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Great Bear Island- Hell Frozen Over

Summary:

The week started so nicely. Well, as nicely as a week can start for someone stuck on a frozen island in the north of Canada.

Between the cold and the hostile animals, the last thing the small group needs on their plate are demons from hell.
To be perfectly honest, they would be perfectly okay with themselves, or so they think. Probably.

All pictures seen through the chapters have been taken in-game, to better give an impression of the location to those not as familiar with the setting.
Feel free to listen to these tunes as you read- shorturl.at/GMNUZ
Characters of Fizzarolli and Asmodeus are from another fanfic "House of Asmodeus" by Bramblerose64, which you can find here- https://rb.gy/tonzts (Both URL's are just shortened to look nicer and are safe for use.)

The story's author is informed of this use and allowed it personally. (They are also helluva cool and awesome!)

Chapter 1: 1st

Chapter Text




--I--

-Outskirts of a mountain town-Morning-

 

Guy ventured out early in the morning, while the sky still held the stars of the waning night, with orange-pink tones creeping up from behind the mountain tops. He made his way through the cave system near the trapper's cabin close to Mystery Lake, coming out to a mountain trail with several rope climbs that led him to a plateau from which a view of several frozen lakes presented itself. Despite the constant biting cold and the distant howling of the wolves, it was still a pretty amazing view.

 

 

Walking away from the cliffside, he searched through a small office building, finding that someone has made camp there, but not recently, as the cloth of the makeshift bed was in a half-frozen pile, and the doors were slight ajar before he even touched them, with some snow piled up between them and the doorframe. Searching through the desk, he found a can of beef tucked away inside one of the drawers, along with a small note. 

 

"To whoever finds this- Don't go into the town! 

 

Wolves overran the streets, and any time those blasted lights go up at night they go feral, scratching and throwing themselves at the doors if anyone is in the building. 

Go across the river towards Martin's farm and around, there's less of them that way. When you reach the church, you'll be out of the wolf territory, but beware the bear at the bridge."  

 

The warning was written in a great hurry, with few of the words scribbled out. Guy read over it three times before he put it back onto the table, half covering it with a small plastic case so the wind doesn't blow it off. 

 

Heeding the warning, he didn't follow the road past the Orca Gas Station, though once he got inside the station he did give a thought, if even for a minute if there was any point to going further anyway. 

 

 

Needing to break into the building, he cracked a smile (And the lock) when he finally managed to come inside, finding the place has been left almost untouched, at least in terms of loot. While there was a mess of papers and other bits and pieces strewn about, littering the floor and the corners, the shelves still held cans and packages, and a few soda cans were inside the refrigerators, one of which had its glass doors shattered. Some of the ceiling panels hung loose, revealing the pipes and wires running across the inside of the building. Walking deeper in, he found the small office room, which proved to be a full-on gold mine, with revolver ammunition, a pair of climbing socks, and a decent-looking pair of insulated boots among other things. The boots even fit the Guy perfectly after he tried them on!  

 

It seemed that someone camped here too, as was evident by another makeshift bed, this one being much tidier than the one back at the park. There was also a fire barrel with a grill placed across it, perfect for indoor cooking. 

 

Overall, a rather good location to settle down, albeit a bit lacking in comfort. 

 

He spent the better part of the morning sorting out the supplies he found inside, and writing a list to detail how much he collected. 

 

-XX.XX.20XX-

Gas Station Loot

-Orange soda x2

-Peanut butter x1

-Chips x3

-Chocolate bar x4

-Canned peaches x2

-Pork and beans x3

-Tomato soup x2

-Herbal tea package, unopened, 10 packages

-Energy bar x2

-Water 2.4l

-Summit soda x5

-Crackers x2

-Beef jerky x2

-Sleeping pills unopened, 15 pills

-Pickle jar, unopened

-Loaf of bread (Found in the freezer, looks good enough)

-Revolver bullets x16

-Climbing socks, one pair

-Insulated boots, one pair

-Thermal underwear x1

-Plaid shirt x2

-Military coat x1

 

Taking a look outside, noting that the sun was rather high, hidden behind a thin layer of gray clouds, Guy decided to head over to the farm mentioned in the note before he ate. Packing only a small portion of the supplies from the list inside his backpack, he stepped outside, shrill wind draining all the warmth from his cheeks as he pulled his scarf up, trying to cover as much skin as possible. Frostbite was an ugly and dangerous threat, and alone he would be in deep trouble if it ever came to it. Slogging through the snow, he wondered about the others, hoping they were all right on their own.

 

Five in total, the group was stranded on the island for two weeks now, ever since those lights started dancing across the sky. Aurora Borealis at first glance, but strange and different. It didn't just dance across the sky, but it...changed things. 

 

---

 

Guy remembered that night as if it was yesterday. They were sitting on the wooden deck, drinking beer and staring at the crystal clear night sky while listening to some music. It was a stunning view of thousands of stars, with a full moon making it seem bright as day. 

 

Then, the wind picked up the pace, sending shivers through them. The sky began to fill with colorful trails of greenish hue that spilled into different tones, becoming purple and whiteish, twisting and turning in the sky as great waves. The movements were at the same time rhythmic yet individual, every strand and wave for itself, but also as if in unison. In the back of their heads, they could feel the pressure building up as if they were underwater, a strange buzzing sound building up all around them, like static. The lights flickered for only a moment when a flash passed across the sky, near blinding them. In the next moment, all was dark. The lights were off, the music played no more, and the wind blew harder and harder. The Aurora above continued to dance, while the group scampered inside, panicked.

 

All night they spent trying to figure out what was going on, why the power went out, but to no avail. No signal, no electricity, not even in the car batteries or the flashlights. All electronics were dead.

 

---

 

*That was quite a scary week...*  Guy thought as he crossed over a frozen river, the ice groaning under his boots. 

 

 It was probably just a very rare natural thing that surely happened before, they thought to themselves. But with every passing day, no one came by, not by land nor by air. Finally, with the start of the fourth day, they decided to head to the small fishing town a few kilometers from their cabin. Following the train tracks, they were blessed with good weather, the sun following their trek across the rail bridges passing deep ravines and hills that formed a crescent around the bay.

 

His thoughts were cut short by the faint sound of footsteps in the deep snow. Stopping in his tracks, he held his breath as he listened to the sounds. In front of him was a small hill, and the noise was coming from behind it. Pulling the revolver from its holster, he crept up the small incline, pulling the hammer back, the sound of the click loud in his ears.

 

Hiding behind one of the trees, he peeked out. In front of him was a large, wide clearing, with a house and a barn on the left side. Some deer were walking around the snow-covered field, scratching at the ground to see if they can find something to eat. A sigh of relief escaped him. Putting his gun back, he walked down and towards the farmhouse, paying little to no mind to the deer, who quickly took note of him and began to move away, sending clouds of steam from their nostrils into the frigid air. 




Getting into the house itself was harder than he thought it would be. Mostly because the front doors were locked, and a prybar wasn't gonna do it. But after searching around the house and inside the nearby pickup truck, he managed to find the key on the dashboard, a yellow gold against the black gray making it quite visible.

 

Stepping inside the house, he found it in disarray. Chairs turned over, books on the ground, papers and boxes lying haphazardly across the rooms. It was a proper mess and a half. Guy wandered around the place, looking for supplies, and finding plenty among the mess. Rifle cartridges, frozen rabbit meat, medical supplies, as well as a map of the area. 

 

Clearing one of the tables, he set the map down, thoroughly looking over it, tracing the road with his finger and making mental notes as to where exactly he should be. After a few more moments, he closed the map up and put it into the backpack with other things. As the box of rifle bullets clinked, he frowned at his decision not to take one of the rifles with him. He could most definitely use it against any wolf pack that might cross paths with him. 

 

Before he could think more about the dangers that apparently swarmed the town, his stomach grumbled in protest of such poor care. He had not eaten since morning, and a meal was well overdue. 

 

Lighting up an old cast-iron stove, Guy went about preparing the frozen rabbit meat he found in the freezer, cutting it up into smaller pieces and placing them inside a cooking pot, along with some water and salt. Rummaging through the kitchen shelves, he found one potato, which did not have any sprouts on itself, nor did it look spoiled. Peeling it and cutting it up, he tossed it into his improvised stew. Searching around, he found no other vegetables to add, so instead he pulled out the frozen loaf of bread from the backpack, cutting up slices and placing them onto one of the empty burners for a few moments before picking them back up. 

 

While tasting of nothing in particular, the warm crumb helped silence the stomach, and the crust made for a good enough substitute for chewing gum. Stirring the pot a few times, he sighed that there was no music he could play while he cooked, instead having to hum some of his better-remembered songs. It would shift from humming the tone to quietly singing out parts of lyrics, accompanied by the crackling of fire and bubbling of water, with the wind outside sometimes making itself known with whistles against the house.

 

The stew cooked for a good hour or so, the ingredients letting off some of their texture, giving the water a much better taste of well...not warm salted water. Still, there wasn't much in the stew to begin with, so the meal itself was not as tasty or filling as something made with full ingredients, but Guy didn't complain, as his hunger made the meal appetizing well enough. Scraping at the bottom of the pot with a spoon, he made sure to not leave a single speck of meal. Wasting food, or anything for that matter, was not something he or others could afford. 

 

With the meal done, he looked outside, the weather looking as stable as it can be. The wind whipped across the frozen field, and those deer from before moved some ways towards a small wooden barn on the other side of it. Much to his relief, he couldn't see any wolves or bears. 

 

--II--

-Inside a cabin in the middle of the woods-Morning-

 

With Guy gone off to search through the caves, the other two left in the trapper's cabin, Oliver and Frederick, finished their breakfast and went back to trying to crack the code of the safe that was tucked away in the corner of the small room. 

 

"How long he has till he has to come back?" Oliver asked, cleaning his fingernails with the tip of the knife. 

 

"Three days, give or take. After that, we have to follow. I just hope he marks his way." Frederick responded, turning the small dial in one direction, listening to the series of clicks that followed each minute turn. 

 

"He will, that can of spray paint is full and he's not a fool." 

 

Oliver, or Oli for short, satisfied with how clean his nails were, stood up from the old armchair that sat close to the wood stove, inside of which a small fire burned, the sweet yet woodsy smell of cedar filling the room. A cooking pot full of melting snow was on one of the burners. 

 

As he walked over to the doors of the cabin, he put on his jacket and a wool toque before grabbing a hatchet that was leaning against the metal cabinet. 

 

"I'll go get more firewood while you sort that out. Don't forget about the water." He said before opening the doors, letting in a gust of cold wind. 

 

Fred gave him a confirming hum and a nod as a response, focusing more on the safe.

 

Oli felt refreshed as he stepped outside, drawing in the cold air into his lungs, a stark contrast to the warmth that built up inside the cabin. Walking down from the small incline on top of which the cabin was, he headed for the edge of the forest on the other side of the clearing below the cabin. The air was soon filled with the sounds of an axe hitting the fir limbs that lay broken from high winds. Oli felt sweat drip down his sideburns as he tore off one of the smaller branches and tossed it onto the pile with the others. His face felt tough and numb, and his lungs had enough of the biting cold air. Yet he continued until he was satisfied, sometimes stopping in the middle of his job, holding his breath as he listened for the sounds of animals. Luck was on his side, and it didn't take him long to stack up a pile that went almost to his waist., without being disturbed.

 

"Heh, there we go, that should keep at least till evening."

 

Carrying a part of it in his hands back to the cabin, he made one more trip back before all was placed outside of the front doors. Stepping inside, he let out a satisfied sigh of relief as he took off his toque and jacket, before stepping to the stove to warm his numbing fingers and the nose that felt like it was going to fall off. 



Meanwhile, Frederick toyed with the last digit of the safe combination, turning the tumbler digit by digit. The man held his breath, and despite wanting to, Ollie held back his teasing, instead checking to see that the water was boiling and safe. Grabbing two tea packages, he put them into their mugs, pouring water into each. Looking outside, he wondered how the others were doing right now. Guy headed for the cave, and the other two were in Quonset several kilometers away. The handcar was on their side of the rail, and until they are back, the rest are supposed to simply stay around Mystery lake, preferably searching for supplies, food, and firewood. After they cracked the safe, the two figured they'll go fishing at one of the few fishing huts that were placed on the frozen surface of Mystery lake itself. If they were lucky, there would be no wolves pestering them, and the bear would be fucking off somewhere else. 

 

*Preferably on the bottom of a ravine...*  Oli thought to himself, recalling their first brush with the grizzly. The damn beast almost killed Fred and tore up most of the clothing Guy wore while giving him a few nasty scars. Since then, they were careful when moving anywhere past the railway line, as it seemed to be some sort of border of the bears territory. And while right now they were technically inside that territory, they were safe inside the cabin. 

 

"Aha! There we go!" A shout woke Ollie from his thoughts. Frederick had finally managed to crack the safe, and with a small thud, he opened it.

 

The two men leaned down to see what was so special that it needed to be kept inside a safe.

 

--III--

-Somewhere inside an abandoned coastal town-Late Morning-




Morten pulled a dead deer behind him, gripping the rope in his hands. The animal carcass left a faint trail of blood in the snow as it was dragged. Rarely, though with much cursing, the last few remaining nerves would twitch, sending spasms across the body. Those spasms, mostly affecting the hind legs, would in turn push both the deer and Morten forward, more than once making the man fall on his knees from the sudden weight shift. After falling forward for the umpteenth time, the man let out an angry scream. 

 

 He let out a litany of curses in his native language, throwing his cap at the now motionless body. 

 

"What's going on?" Rudy asked as he rushed towards him, hatchet in hand. 

 

"This...STUPID," Morten started, kicking at the body, "fucker won't stay dead! Argh!" 

 

Rudy let out a sigh of relief, placing his hands on his knees, resting from the sprint. 

 

"Ha, and here I thought the living were giving you trouble." He said, reaching out to the man still kneeling on the ground. With a grunt, Morten took his hand and pulled himself up, brushing away the snow from his pants, which had dark wet spots in several places from previous falls. 

 

"Here, let me give you a hand with this." 

 

The two took the ropes together, sharing the load as they pulled the deer behind them. 

 

Morten and Rudy had come back here a few days ago. The small town stood inside of a natural bay, which was frozen solid far enough that two small islands that sat inside it could be reached on foot without any issue. The days were spent mostly furnishing out the largest and sturdiest building in town, the Quonset garage, as well as gathering supplies and hunting for food. 

 

The pair had become adept at setting up traps for small game, and fishing for Coho salmon in one of many ice fishing huts that were placed here and there over the thick ice covering the bay. The fish was plentiful, undisturbed by boats or birds. 

 

Dragging the deer into the garage, Rudy closed the roll-up gates behind them, blocking the wind that continued to whisper against the outside of the building. Taking off their caps and jackets, they went to work on the body from which pieces of snow melted and formed into small puddles. While not too experienced, they managed to find a manual that described the basics of skinning wild game, which in turn allowed them to skin the deer without ruining the coat, or cutting into the meat too much. As the now-skinned deer was hanging from the hooks that were attached to the metal beams above, Rudy went over to the small potbelly stove that was burning in the other room, tossing a piece of wood inside. Stretching out, cracking his neck and knuckles, he looked around the room behind him. 

 

 

They had furnished the place quite nicely, bringing in plenty of blankets and pillows from the surrounding houses, all abandoned. What few people they had met after that night were frozen bodies, lying half-buried in the snow at random places. Anywhere they went it was abandoned. Only the animals still roamed about. 

 

While there was an argument about it, they haven't had the proper tools or time to bury all of the dead they came across. Most they left untouched, while they moved some that were inside houses or somewhere they more frequently traveled. It was disrespectful, but as Frederick put it- "If the places were reversed, I wouldn't mind if some fucker still breathing didn't have the will or dedication to bury my dead ass." 

 

Rudy wondered if that would ever become reality. While death was all around them, in the forms of ruthless cold winter and of the wildlife that attacked on sight, they were surprisingly lucky. Sure, Guy suffered some wounds, but they didn't run deep, and he was still a young guy. He could bounce right back from that stuff. Considering how many things could have gone wrong, Guy getting hurt was better than him being killed. 

 

*Funny, how we continue on, without even knowing if there is something to return to...*  He thought, grabbing his cup from the stove, grasping it with both hands, feeling the heat enter into his arms, and moving up to his elbows. 

 

There had been no contact with anyone. Cellphones were dead, their batteries were completely drained, and there was no electricity anywhere on the island. Cars, buildings, everything. The question always lingered if this was only an island-wide occurrence, or did it go beyond that?

 

Despite the warmth, Rudy shuddered at the thought.

 

- - - -

The tall trees creaked as the winds passed through their branches, the sound akin to the whispering of spirits deprived of the afterlife. Two sets of footprints stretched along the snow-covered path. One looked like it belonged to a large bird, the shapes of talons spread far apart. The other appeared to be a pair of heeled boots, and this one seemed to deviate much more, the footprints sometimes close to each other, and sometimes far apart. 

A single gray feather lay on the snow. The wind picked it up and tossed it into the air, removing the footprints little by little as if using a small broom. 




 

 

Chapter 2: 2nd

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

--I--

-Farmstead outside of a mountain town- Around noon-

 

With his protesting stomach satisfied, at least a little, Guy headed out again, leaving the farmhouse. Inside a nearby barn, he found the body of who he assumed to be the Martin from the note. Lying face down in a frozen pool of dark blood, it was obvious his death was not gentle. His body was full of deep bite marks, his clothes torn apart by tooth and claw. Guy didn't dare turn him around, knowing full well that seeing his face wouldn't sit well with his stomach. 

 

He instead turned to the small workbench that seemed to hold a few tools and some other interesting things. 

 

A small red toolbox was opened, revealing the contents within. All sorts of tools were neatly sorted within, and after rummaging through it, he even found a small rifle cleaning kit.

 

"Neat." He said to himself, examining the bundle of special tools in his hand.

 

Placing a few more loose tools, nuts, bolts, and pieces of metal that were sprawled around the table into the toolbox, he packaged it inside of his large backpack, grunting at the added weight once he put it back on.

 

Leaving the protection of the barn walls, he was met with the freezing wind that passed over his face, making him raise the red scarf as far as it would go over his mouth and nose. Passing over the barren orchard, the small trees void of any leaves, he made his way towards an incline between the two rock formations. 

 

Climbing along the incline was slow and tiring. With every exhale he let out a cloud of steam that clung to his scarf before trailing off behind him. Almost panting like a dog, he was relieved when he finally reached the top, looking down to see that he had indeed made it. If things were different, this would be a perfect spot for sledding. Unfortunately, the only sled they had was back at the cabin. And he had more important matters to attend to. 

 

This little expedition of his was done out of hope, hope that maybe he would find someone else that was on the island. So far, the only other person he saw was not exactly in a position to speak, mostly because he was dead. 

 

Passing a small frozen pond, on the edges of which cat tails stood tall and proud, he looked around him, recalling the warning he had read earlier today. " When you reach the church, you'll be out of the wolf territory, but beware the bear at the bridge."   

 

Well, he saw no bridge, and while he wasn't sure if he would stumble upon the church in question, there was no reason to turn back yet.

 

Leaving the pond behind, he came across a snow-covered bend of the road, with a few small uncovered holes revealing the aged asphalt. Looking left, he traced the road going between small hills, climbing towards an unknown destination. Looking right, he spotted the church. 

 

The place had seen better days. The outer walls looked like they could use a good scrubbing, and there were multiple holes in the roof. The small graveyard next to it had its tombstone crooked and slanted from the passing of time, with chips and missing pieces. On some, the writing was too weathered out to even read. 

 

Guy stood for a moment, looking at the sight in front of him. It was quite a long time since he last entered the house of God. He absent-mindedly reached down into one of his many pockets, pulling out a rosary and rolling the beads under his fingers. As if led by someone else, he walked forward, opening the creaky doors, stepping onto the holy ground. 

 

The inside of the church was not much better than the outside. Few beams of light shone through the holes in the roof, some of the pews were turned over while others were seemingly pushed away. As he walked between them toward the front, he could see the reason why. Someone had made a campfire and a small bed in here. But the fire was long burnt out, and the bed looked like it hadn't been touched in a while. 

 

Sitting down on one of the front pews, taking off his backpack, Guy sighed. It was quiet in here, just as it always was in a holy place. He remembered when he would go alone into the cathedral of his city, staring into the high ceilings until his neck hurt, enjoying the calm and quiet that was the stark opposite of the everyday bustle outside. Even now, when the outside only held the voice of freezing winds and the creaking of leafless canopies of the ageless trees, it was nice to get away from.

 

"Pax et quiete..." he whispered out, closing his eyes, enjoying the calm. The faint smell of rosewood grasped at his nostrils as he rolled the rosary beads. 

 

---

 

"GET AWAY! WATCH IT!" Morten shouted somewhere out of his field of view. He could hear the others screaming violently as hard as they could, screams of men trying to overcome primal fear with courage and anger. 

 

The large bear in front of him only roared in response, getting up on its hind legs, towering over them like a monster from old tales, spit oozing out of its massive jaws, its pointed canines glistening against the fire that glowed behind Guy. 

 

In a moment, the beast was on top of him. He tried to get away, but without success. 

 

The air was pushed out of his lungs as the bear pressed its massive clawed paws on top of him, his ribcage feeling like it could snap at any moment. A loud roar covered him in spit and foam as the claws moved across his chest, ripping apart the clothes, sinking into meat like a butcher's knife. He couldn't move his arms, he couldn't trash his legs. He was helpless, staring into the awaiting eyes of certain death. 

 

Right as the bear dived in to tear out his throat, it was pushed back, struck by a hatchet. It was Rudy, his face contorted into a bloodthirsty mask of savagery. The hatchet hit the bear's left foreleg, right between the limb and the body. The blade sank deep into the rough fur as others piled on. 

 

Ollie smacked it into the snout with a piece of wood, its burning tip sending sparks everywhere as it connected with the black nose. 

 

Morten stabbed it with a knife close to the back of the neck, putting onto it all of his weight. 

 

Only Fred wasn't there. That's when he felt himself being pulled away from the horrid scene. 

 

"I got you, I got you." Fred huffed somewhere behind his head, out of sight. 

 

His vision lost focus as he suddenly felt extremely tired. 

Darkness filled his vision, and the sounds died down. 

 

---

 

He jumped in shock from the vivid dream, nearly slipping down from the pew. He drew shallow, panicked breaths as his eyes darted left to right, looking for danger that was not there. 

 

Gradually, he calmed down. His breathing eased up into slower, deeper takes as he slumped against the back of the pew.

 

One of his hands went to his chest, feeling across the layers of fabric. There was no blood, only the scars. 

 

"Oh fucking hell..." He let out in relief, rubbing his forehead. His other hand still tightly clutched the rosary. 

 

---

 

Leaving the church, closing the creaking doors behind him, he let out a sigh as the wind welcomed him back with another freezing chill sending small spirals of snow around him. Zipping his jacket up and pulling his scarf almost above his eyes, Guy grumbled as he started walking away, down the road under the now clear sky that showed a bright, almost white sun high in the sky.

 

As he walked, his boots dropping through the snow to the hard asphalt below, he passed by a few cars that sat just on the road edges. Peeking in, he found nothing within, and so he carried on, concluding that he had no time for it. 

 

His mind was still rolling the metaphorical film of his dream on loop. Even as the details got fuzzy, it kept going on and on. The bear, the others, his death... But he didn't die. Not then, not the day after, or the one after it. He pulled through, despite their situation and his condition. A reminder of that stayed with him in form of his tattered skin and bruised ribs. But that didn't stop him from going off alone. 

 

Stuck in thought like that, he almost passed a bleached-out board to his left, barely catching a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. 

 

 

                                                                                             Town of Milton

                                                                                                 Est. 1911

 

*So that was the town overrun with wolves?*  Guy thought, looking past the board to see the road crossed a wide truss bridge. Its metal beams were covered in snow, and small yet noticeable patches of rust were forming around some of the joins. 

 

Wait a minute. 

 

"When you reach the church, you'll be out of the wolf territory, but beware the bear at the bridge."

 

"...bear at the bridge."

 

Alarms went off inside Guys' head as he first stuttered out, and then started to look around, pulling out his revolver and cocking it.

 

He was alone, out in the open, at a disadvantage. Looking back at the way he came from, he calculated in his head. 

 

Before he made a decision, shots rang out, their echo stretching far and wide. They came from beyond the bridge, somewhere from further away. 

 

Staring, he stood still for but a moment. In the next one, he was running across the bridge, cursing under his breath as another shot echoed across the sky.

 

--II--

-Inside a cabin in the middle of the woods-Around noon-

 

"Hmm..." Ollie hummed out, twirling one of the marine flares between his fingers. The safe had been full of them, along with some other things. Several packaged MREs, a box full of rifle cartridges, a bandage with a weird lichen, and a flare gun with the shells to boot.

 

 

"What are you still searching for in there man?" He asked Fred, who had still knelt in front of the safe, moving his hand along the interior, as if feeling for something. 

 

The man continued to search for a moment longer, before leaning away, sitting down on the wooden floor, sighing. 

 

"I thought... *huff* ...I thought there might be some hidden compartment or sumthin'." Frederick answered, scratching at his bushy beard.

 

"A hidden compartment? Dude, we're in a trappers cabin, not some spy flick." Ollie laughed, tossing the flare to the desk among the rest, sprawling fully onto the bed. 

 

The older man glanced at him, huffing in response. 

"Everyone hides something. Not to mention there's this key..." He said, raising a small silver key in the air. 

 

Oliver hadn't answered. Eyeing the key, he let out another hum before coming back up, now sitting on the bed with his legs on the floor.

 

In the next moment, he pulled the blanket that went almost to the floor up, leaning down and looking under the bed. Apparently not founding what he was looking for, he stood up, now moving the old armchair to the side and looking under it. 

 

Frederick was too stunned to ask just what in tarnation the other was doing, so he continued sitting on the floor, taking a moment to check on his prosthesis. Pulling up the bottom hem of his pants, he revealed the dark metal that was the lower part of his foot, starting just below his ankle down to his trail boot. He checked if all the screws were tightly screwed and if anything might have gone loose.

 

"Hey, gimme a hand with this," Ollie said through a grunt, attempting to move the safe itself. 

 

"What's gotten into you?" Fred asked, scampering to his feet. 

 

"Just help me move it, come on." Ollie continued, giving the safe another push with little effect. 

 

Looking at him for a moment longer, Fred shrugged his shoulders. Stepping next to him, the two men grabbed the safe. On the count of three, they pushed it aside with the heavy noise of grinding, into the corner of the room.

 

"Haa...there we go," Frederick exhaled, stepping away. But he tripped when his foot got caught on something. Stumbling back, his back stopped against the small cupboard, his arms stretched out, holding for dear life to the wall and the cupboard itself. 

 

"Careful. Don't go falling over a flat floor." Ollie teased as he knelt down, looking at the thing the other man tripped over. A small metal padlock was held in place by a hasp staple. It seemed to be attached to an opening that at first glance looked like all the other wooden floorboards in the room, and which would remain unnoticed without it there. 

 

Taking the key Fred had placed on the nearby table, Ollie tried it on the padlock, nodding as it clicked and released the shackle.

 

"Now, let's see what's behind door number two!" He said with a grin, pulling the door up. 

 

Fred leaned forward, recovered from his oh-so-close brush with death, and whistled. 

 

"Whoa." 

 

Two large, very large hunting spears were neatly placed onto a cotton blanket. 

 

 

--III--

-Quincy's Quonset, abandoned coastal town-Late noon-

 

"So, what's next for today?" Rudy asked, wiping clean the small knife after cutting up the last bits of the deer. 

 

Morten kept quiet as he spaced out the guts and the skin on another table, making sure no part touched the other so that it could all cure equally. After a few more moments, seemingly satisfied with the work, he clapped his hands, and turned around, a smile on his face. 

 

"Well, now that we took care of this...bastard, I say some explorin' is in order. That mineshaft to be precise."

 

"What mineshaft?"

 

"The one up in the hills. There's bound to be plenty a good stuff in there." 

 

Morten washed his hands in a small basin that was on the desk as he continued to speak. 

 

"There's still plenty of sunlight, and as we all agreed, exploring as much as we can is the best course of action. We have plenty of food, we're going back to the others in two days, and searching always proved a good idea." He explained, trying to plug any gap the other might use for a 
counterargument. 

 

Rudy only stared, not even trying to cut into his explanation. He half-expected him to bring it up, and he didn't really care enough to fight him on it.

 

"Wait, what's so interesting about a mine when we literally have the highway along the coast we could follow?" He interrupted, a thought popping up in his head.

 

Morten's brow furrowed at the question. 

 

"That...is a good point. Hmm..." He tapped his fingers against the desk.

 

"I guess I just...have a feeling." He answered.

 

"You have a feeling?" Rudy asked, his voice filled with mirth.

 

"Yes, I have a feeling." 

 

"He has a feeling!" Rudy continued jokingly as he walked away into the side room. 

 

"I'm serious. Gut instinct ain't no fairy tale and you know it."

 

Rudy came back, holding two large backpacks in his hands. His face was serious, no smile or grin adorning it. 

 

"Yes, I know," He said, tossing one of the backpacks to the other man before continuing ", it wouldn't be the first time that instinct was right."

 

Morten only nodded in response. 

---

"How much further?!" Rudy cried out, his voice carried by the wind as if it was trying to steal it all for himself. 

 

"We've passed the lookout! Not too far now!" Morten answered, his storm lantern swaying with every move and gust of wind. 

 

They had trekked from the garage up the mining trails that led up the hills, and while the weather seemed to service them for the most part, it started to lightly snow right about mid-way. The light snow quickly turned into a thick wall of constantly shifting snowflakes that made it hard to see too far, and the wind didn't help either. Their progress slowed as the daylight shone weaker and weaker.

 

Brushing more of the snow from his shoulders, Rudy kept his ears open, ready to alert his friend at the first sound of trouble. Though he doubted the wolves would come out at a time like this, he didn't want to leave it to chance.

 

"There! I see it!" Morten shouted, his voice full of relief. 

 

Rudy could discern a large dark shape taking form as they neared it, appearing to be bare black stone. Looking down, he could barely make out a sort of structure, looking like a small entrance. 

 

As they neared it, the natural cover and shape of the surrounding hills limited the snowfall. Finally, they were there.

 

 

"Looks inviting! After you!" Rudy said, standing close to the gated entrance. 


---

 

"Why the fuck is it so dark in here?" Rudy asked.

 

"It's a mine underground, what do you expect?" 

 

"I know it's a mine, it's just...it don't feel right. This darkness...feels like it's closing in on us."

 

"Rudy, calm down. Nothing is closing in, it's just your fear talking. Stay with me."

 

The dark tunnels were void of all light and life, except for the two men that walked with a storm lantern in hand. Occasionally, a rock would slip from somewhere deep down below, sending a spine-chilling echo through the passages. 

 

Rudy didn't like this. His mind was too full of imagination to leave him alone without thinking up a myriad of monsters and creatures that were just out of the meager reach of their lanterns. The dark scared him. 

 

Every so often, they would hit a fork. Sometimes, the one they would pick would turn out to have collapsed. Other times it was simply gated off by iron bars. Every time they had to turn back and try the other one, hoping that it would lead forward. 

 

The expedition, as scary as it was, wasn't without success. Lumps of coal dotted the tunnel floor and an occasional small crate, easy to pick up. 
A jerry can full of lamp oil, a good length of mountaineering rope, packets of beef jerky, and even a few matches, and candles (unscented sadly).

 

Morten suddenly stopped, raising his fist in the air.

 

"Shh shh, do you hear that?" 

 

"Hear what?" 

 

"The wind...we're close to an exit."

 

Rudy listened. Indeed, he could hear a faint whisper of the wind coming from somewhere in front of them. 

 

"Oh thank God, I had enough of this place." He exhaled, pushing the man in front of him forward. 

 

Morten continued to walk, the lantern swaying in his hand. 

 

"I don't think it's the same place we entered. Shouldn't be at least, if I traced right."

 

Indeed, it wasn't. Stepping out on a ledge that overlooked a forest below, the pair looked down into a white valley. The snow still trickled down from the sky, but it wasn't as heavy as back from where they entered the mine. 

 

Their eyes were tired looking among the many tones of black and white, but as luck (or maybe carrots) would have it, Morten spotted something that made him squint, then rub his eyes, then squint again. 

 

"What the...?" He mumbled but didn't end his question.

 

"Lights! Those are goddamn light!" He shouted, pointing in the distance. 

 

Indeed, hidden deep behind the ever-changing curtains of falling snow, a single, shining light could be discerned, like a bright beacon of hope. 

 

Rudy stared into the distance as well, mouth agape. 


"That means..." He started.

 

"We're not the only ones here! Rudy! Ha ha!" Morten shouted in excitement, grabbing his companion by the shoulders.

 

"We're not alone?!" Rudy said, not believing his own words.

 

The two men broke into laughter, filled with joy at their finding. Like little kids, they jumped in the air, then looked again at the light, confirming it was still there, before continuing their childish celebration.

 

After they thoroughly exhausted every ounce of built-up excitement, they headed down the winding path, eager to reach the light as soon as possible.

-- -- --
-Elsewhere on the Great Bear-Around noon-


A pack of timberwolves passed two sets of small footprints, seemingly following them. Each looked like cloven hooves, albeit in a different pattern than that of a deer or a moose. They walked next to each other, almost in unison. 

The lead wolf growled, giving a low bark to the others. The pack had caught a scent. It wasn't deer or rabbit. It was something else entirely. And it smelt good. As one they broke into a slow run, now following the footprints much more eagerly.

 

-Elsewhere on the Great Bear-Evening-


A fire crackled warmly inside the kitchen of a large farmhouse. Silent snoring could be heard from somewhere close, resembling a hooting of an owl. 

Outside, in a nearby barn, a horse neighed as a hand caressed the side of its muzzle, leaning into the touch. It never saw anything like the creature before it, but after spending so much time inside, almost starving from the lack of food, the mare cared not who,or what, fed her.

 

 

 

Notes:

Now, I know we're two chapters in already, and we are still with our little motley group of friends, and you're probably wondering "Hey, is this guy pulling our leg with these tags? What gives?"
To that, I can only say that "Good things come to those who wait" (Don't worry, you won't have to wait for long), and that I wish you all a pleasant start to the week. Also, comments and questions, as well as critiques are highly encouraged and welcomed!

Chapter 3: 3rd

Notes:

The first floor is above the ground floor for those from the USA.
The story takes place after Ep 1 of Season 2 if you need a reference of what did or didn't happen. (If any new episodes come out they of course won't be incorporated, sowwy)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

--I--
-Somewhere inside Milton- Mid-afternoon-

Guy ran into the abandoned town, revolver in hand. Another shot boomed through the air, and he could hear the wailing of the wolves carried on the wind. 

Snow covered the street and the wooden buildings that stood along it were boarded up tight. What few cars were parked in front of them were covered in snow, with no sign of recent movement. 

Stopping just before he hit the crossing, he looked forward. Two large, sturdy-looking buildings were at the corners of the crossing, one looking like a bank if the writing was correct. Neither of them were just regular houses, that was certain. On a ledge in the distance, a radio tower stood tall, its bleached red colors still standing out amidst the black stone and the snow drifts.

 

 

*Where to, where to?*  His mind asked, unsure of where to continue running. But before he could choose, the decision was made for him. 

 

Out from behind the bank, a large timberwolf came into view. Its fur silver gray, its statue larger than an average black wolf. But the scary thing was that they always came in packs. 

 

Not soon after, two more could be seen walking behind the leader, seemingly still unaware of the man standing in the middle of the road. 

 

Guy was frozen in surprise as the small pack neared the middle of the road. But then, the lead wolf stopped, craning his head up into the air, and then to him. 

 

His insides turned to ice as the two other wolves turned their heads, barring their yellowed fangs, growling while strands of saliva oozed from their jaws, their claws digging into the snow as every muscle in their bodies prepared for an attack. 

 

The pack charged forward, moving as one, kicking up snow as their ran towards him. 

 

*CLICK*

 

The mind and the body sprang into action. He let off a shot, the bullet striking the snow, kicking it up into the charging trio. They winced from the noise and the snow but continued charging. 

 

His legs, at first feeling like lead weights, moved left, towards the closest shelter he saw. 

 

 

Sprinting up the incline towards the large house, he failed to notice two pairs of tracks going from it. Two small sets of cloven hooves.

 

The wolves were right behind him, snapping their jaws as they lunged, barely missing their mark. Just a few more meters. 

As he rushed up the small staircase, the sudden pressure was too much for one of the planks, causing it to break with a loud snap. He plunged forward, managing to land on his hands instead of his face. Turning around just in time, a wolf pounced onto him rather than on his back. 

The beast scratched at his jacket, the sound of ripping cloth barely audible over the rabid growling. Its jaw was wide open, aiming at his throat.

Guy barely managed to catch the wolf by the throat with one of his hands, while smacking at the side of its head with the revolver still gripped tightly in his hand. 

Sudden sharp, searing pain made him yell out. One of the bastards had gotten hold of his ankle! He could feel it trashing around, trying to break the joint. 

 

As if the floodgates opened, the pain was pushed down as adrenaline started to course through him, his brain pulling out all the stops and pushing the body into overdrive. This was it. Either he fought, or he died. 

 

Newfound strength in his aching muscles pushed him on as he slammed the wolf again, managing to bring the beast off of him. He kicked with his free foot as hard as he could into the other, and as the boot met the skull, a loud sound of cracking bone and marrow could be heard, the pressure on his ankle releasing. 

Still on his back, he let out a series of shots, most missing, but a few grazing the stunned wolves, which backed away at the sudden outburst. Before they could recuperate, he pushed himself up, slamming against the front doors of the house. The wood creaked as the doors slammed against the wall, Guy pulling himself inside half-standing. With the last bit of strength, he pulled them back, right as the third one leaped at him. 

With effort, he pushed back the doors as the beasts clawed and barked, their claws scratching at the tight opening. 

Forcing himself onto his feet, he slammed against the door, leaning into them with all of his weight. The pained yelps cried out as the appendages cracked between the doorframe, before being pulled back. He kept at the doors, holding onto them for dear life as the wolves smashed against the wood, trying to force them open. 

 

Finding the lock, he pushed it once, twice, and then another one lower down. 

 

Slumping down, his back against the nearby wall, he breathed out, greedily catching as much air as he could, almost choking from the dust that seemed to linger inside. The barking and the growling continued, the wolves still scratching and slamming against the doors, but it slowed down bit by bit. Guy sighed in relief as he tried to get himself back up. 

As he did, he felt for his jacket. One of the pockets was slashed open, his rosary hanging out, barely holding on. He grabbed it and hung it around his neck, silently saying his thanks. 

Trying to move forward, the sharp pain stopped him in his tracks. The ankle felt like it was burning if even an ounce of pressure was on it. Propping himself against the wall, he looked down at the injury. 

The boot was chewed right through. No blood trickled out, but he knew it was because of the socks, not because the teeth didn't pierce the flesh. 

His head suddenly filled with sharp pain, as if it was splitting open. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes from the pressure as he pressed his hand against his forehead. 

After such a demanding ordeal, the body was more than exhausted. So much adrenaline would give anyone headaches, but his overall state only worsened the effects. Guy heard ringing in his ears as he tried his best to remain still, breathing in through his teeth, every breath a challenge. 

In his state, he was oblivious to the fact he was not alone inside.

 

-I-I-I-I-

-Inside the old house, upstairs-Few minutes earlier-

 

Octavia hadn't expected her day to go like this. Or her week for that matter. Her mom goes away for some family meeting, her dad vanishes without a trace after meeting with his... lover.  She is stuck home alone and when she goes to call him, he doesn't pick up, not once. Not even a message! Like his phone was turned off.

 

And now that she was in the mortal world looking for him, her phone just...died.

 

"I just charged it in the car, this makes no sense!" She yelled out, annoyed. She tried to turn it on a few times now, taking out the battery and putting it back in. But no matter what she did, the screen remained black.

 

Tossing it to the side of the bed in frustration, she rubbed her temples as she stared at the wooden ceiling, going back a few hours in her mind.

 

---

 

When she finally had enough, she demanded to be driven to the office of that loud-mouthed imp her father was with. Entering the office, she was met with the two other imps that were with them in Loo Loo Land, both sitting around a table and talking about something, turning their heads once they saw her. 

 

"M-Miss Octavia! Suprise to see you here!" Moxxie stuttered out, hopping to his feet.

 

"How can we help ya miss?" Millie asked, joining her husband as they walked towards her. 

 

"I'm...I'm looking for my da...I mean prince Stolas. He hadn't been answering any of my calls, and last time I saw him he was with your... boss ." She said, coating the last word in a thick layer of resentment.

 

The two imps looked at eachother, and then back at her, worry written across their faces. 

 

"Well...we haven't seen Blitzø for a few days either. Ever since that night at Ozzie's..." Moxxie said, saying the few last words with pointed anger. 

 

"We tried ta call him on his phone, but it was just like with yer dad. No answers, like his phone was turned off!" Millie continued, throwing her arms in the air to punctuate the point.

 

The two had last seen their boss leaving the club in the Lust Ring, after which they too were thrown out by Asmodeus himself. Despite that, Millie considered it a great night, even though Moxxie was not so sure. 

 

But coming to work the next day, it was weird to find his office empty. Only Loona was there, manning the phones. (Or well, her phone more than anything.)

 

Since the contract list was with their boss, they couldn't do anything but wait. And they did so for a week. True, they didn't just idle all that time, swapping between trying to make the office a bit less...dirty, and trying to get in touch with their boss. Their resident hellhound only scoffed at their tries, saying how Blitzø is "probably off alone with his bird boyfriend somewhere." Though the few times Millie sneaked a glance over to her, Loona seemed worried, biting her lip as she sent yet another text to her dad. 

 

As if thinking about her caught her attention, Loona glanced up, moving her legs down from the table. 

 

"If neither of them are answering their phones...that doesn't seem right."

She said, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Or they're both probably too busy filling each other's holes...." She added at the end, slumping back into her seat, absent-mindedly flipping another page of the Grimoire.

 

"EW! Gross!" Octavia exclaimed, tugging her beanie across her eyes as she felt her cheeks blush. 

 

So that was it? Both of them vanished without a trace or a message, and they haven't been answering their phones. 

 

A dark thought popped into her mind, one she thought was closed back in that horrible rip-off of Lu Lu World.

//

*Are you gonna run off with him? And leave me behind? Go away where I can't find you?*

 

*What? No, no, no never, I'd never do that. Never.*

//

As soon as it popped in, she kicked it out, gulping down the fear and doubt that threatened to spill out. 

 

Moxxie yelled at Loona in the background as Millie seemed to be deep in thought. Then, as if a metaphorical lightbulb had lit up, she sprang up, walking to the desk Loona was sitting at, grabbing the large book, and bringing it up to Octavia.

 

"Your highness, if I thought this out correctly, this here book, which is full of interesting thangs, could maybe help us find 'em?"

 

She was right. That did make sense. Yeah, the Grimoire had a spell for finding people. 

 

Taking the book from her hands, Octavia placed it onto the table, flipping through the pages, looking for the one in question. She had to make sure where her father is.

 

"There!" She exclaimed as she pointed to the correct page.

Going over the instructions, the symbols, and the glyphs on the page, she recalled the instructions her father gave her when she was younger.  *Alright, this shouldn't be too hard, just have to focus.*

 

As she read out the magic words and drew out magic symbols in front of her, the air filled with static. The air felt thick and it was hard to breathe, the imps moving back away from her. 

 

With the last words leaving her lips, a crack of energy pulsated out from the book, splitting the wall in front of it into a portal, its borders shifting and moving as it tried to stay open. 

 

---

 

Passing through the portal, they found themselves inside an abandoned house. A thin layer of dust covered every surface. The windows were stained so much you couldn't see outside, from where weak white light barely pierced inside through the grime. A few old books were scattered around the floor, and a rocking chair was on its side next to a burnt-out fireplace. Every so often a creak of the wooden structure would sound out as if the old house was complaining about its state. Meanwhile, the silent whispering of the wind passing over the outside could be constantly heard. 

 

They hadn't found them inside the house, nor did they find any of their stuff. 

 

Moxxie and Millie decided to take a look around, walking out of the house and closing the doors behind them. Now she was stuck here with Loona, trying to pass the time till they got back. 

 

"Soo... you're his daughter?" Loona asked as she looked over a bookshelf on the wall. Her phone was dead too, and she was too bored to just sit around idly.  

 

"Y-yeah...and I'm guessing you're..."

 

"Adopted. Adopted daughter." The hellhound cut her off before she could finish. 

 

Octavia propped herself up on the bed, now staring at her back. The large tail flicked from side to side as the other girl reached further up the bookshelf, grabbing another dusty tome and reading over the cover before scoffing and tossing it behind her on a sizeable pile forming between the bed and the doors. It wasn't too interesting, but it was better than staring at a wooden ceiling. 

 

Just as she was about to ask something, Octavia was cut off by a loud gunshot, sounding to be rather close to the house. 

 

"Uh, what was that?" She asked, straightening up as her feet moved to the side of the bed. 

 

"What was what?" Loona asked. Despite her keen hearing, the sound of gunfire was too common in Imp City for her to really notice it or give it any concern.

 

"You didn't hear? Someone is shooting outside!"

 

"Oh? Yeah, they tend to do that here." The hellhound answered, seemingly forgetting they were not in the Imp City for a moment. 

 

The sound of cracking wood and wild growls broke out, even closer to the house. Now even the hellhound noticed, turning away from the bookshelf, her red eyes showing unvoiced concern and curiosity as to what was going on. 

 

Another series of shots rang out, this time practically right outside the front doors. Octavia hurried to the window, but Loona caught her hand, pulling her back. 

 

"You don't poke your head out when someone is shooting stupid!" The bigger girl yelled out, still tightly gripping her hand. 

 

Stunned that someone was being like that to her, Octavia only stared without letting out a sound. 

 

As if realizing what she had done, Loona let go of her hand. The hellhound forgot that despite being older, the younger girl in front of her was a member of the Ars Goetia, so much higher than her in terms of class. 

 

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to..." She began apologizing, fear in her voice. 

 

"No, it's..it's alright." Octavia cut her off, rubbing at her wrist where the hellhound gripped her earlier. No one was ever rough like that. But she wasn't angry. She understood that it was stupid of her to try and look outside. Throwing a glance behind her without nearing the window, she couldn't see much outside. It didn't seem anything was moving either. 

 

The slamming of the wood got their attention again. Loona tensed up, looking down the hall. They were on the first floor, and the only way up was a narrow staircase. 

 

"You stay here," The hellhound said before jumping across the book pile out of the room, disappearing out of sight. 

 

"Wha? Hey, wait, you don't get to order me arou..." Octavia started, but her words fell silent as she tripped over the same book pile, clumsily falling forward. 

 

*Oh Lucifer, how embarrassing.*  She thought to herself as she got up, shrugging off the dust that stuck to her clothes. Good thing no one saw her.

 

Hurrying up after the other girl, she saw her half-crouching on the staircase. Just as she was about to ask her what was going on, the other one pressed a finger against her lips, signaling to her to keep quiet. Gulping down, Octavia nodded, silently joining her on the staircase.

 

Crouching next to her, she tapped her shoulder. The hellhound at first winced, baring her teeth for just a moment, but seemed to have caught herself. Glaring, she nodded with her head to the front doors. 

 

Turning her head, Octavia saw what Loona was staring at. 

 

A human was sprawled against the wall next to the front doors, panting heavily as he lowered his scarf, revealing a short, scraggly beard. His eyes seemed unfocused, and his movements were shaky. Behind him, she could hear blunt slamming against the doors, with barking and growling following it. 

 

The man let out a sigh of relief that turned into a coughing fit. She watched him standing up to his full height. He wore a dark, olive-green jacket that seemed to have been torn apart on the front. On his back, a large backpack, so large one of those two small imps could easily fit into it.

 

A small thing dangled from one of the pockets of his jacket. Narrowing her eyes, she made out a small rosary. But for some reason, the thing... glowed ?

 

What in all seven rings of Hell was happening?

 

The two girls watched him put the rosary around his neck, silently praying as he did so. He then tried to move forward but faltered. It was then that they noticed one of his legs was wounded. But it looked fine?

In the next moment, he gripped his head, breathing heavily. 

 

Both Loona and Octavia had no idea what was going on as they continued to stare at the human.

 

--III--

-Somewhere in Pleasant Valley-Early Night-

 

Both Rudy and Morten were cold and soaking through and through, their clothes full of snow that continued to fall as they made their way towards the light in the distance. 

 

Once they made it down from the ledge, their vision was blocked by both snow and terrain, but they held their course more or less towards where Morten thought the light was. Rudy put great trust into his sense of direction, as it was something that they depended on right now. 

 

Why they didn't just wait till the morning in the mines? Why did they have to go there now? Neither of them asked nor cared for those questions. All they were focused on was getting to that light, driven to it like moths to the flame. 

 

They stepped across a road onto which their way connected, spotting an aged sign saying "Mine Road" pointing in the way they came from. 

 

Morten cut across the road and continued into the deep snow, b-lining it for the light. Rudy followed, hatchet in hand, following his friends ever swinging storm lantern. 

 

They crossed a frozen river and walked over the low, exposed hills. The constantly shifting snowfall seemed endless, the movement making it hard to focus forward. It was so easy to just look down and blindly move forward. But neither could do that. They could easily keep walking in circles like that. Rudy didn't feel what little exposed skin he had around his eyes, his nose runny and freezing. It hurt to hold the hatchet in his hand, the gloves not enough for the constant wind. 

 

As the pair stepped onto a small, wooden bridge, it was as if a switch was pressed. 

 

The snow momentarily died down around them, giving them a clear view in front. 

 

For just a moment, the moon peeked out behind the thick clouds, revealing salvation just a hundred meters ahead. A large barn, its outer walls glistening crimson red in the moonlit darkness. 

 

As Morten looked in silence, Rudy looked beyond. 

 

The sight made his eyes widen in shock and his jaw drop. 

 

A massive blizzard was rolling in from the mountains! It caught all in its way into a roiling white blanket, as if the Old Man Winter himself was laying all life under it to a final rest. 

 

"Morten! Look!" He shouted, pointing a finger for his friend to follow. 

 

Morten stared, still silent. In the next moment, he pulled his friend forward, his pace fast, almost running. 

 

Rudy followed, despite his limbs protesting such a painful change of pace. 

 

The two rushed towards the barn, their limbs aching, their lungs feeling as if searing cold knives were stabbed into them with each breath. 

 

---

 

Finally, they were inside, freezing and tired, but safe. Rudy started a fire in a nearby barrel someone already used for the same purpose. The air was quickly filled with the constant crackling of wood as it burned, a warming glow painting everything around in dim light.

 

 

Morten turned off the lantern (To save the lamp oil) and instead fashioned a crude torch, dipping up some cloth in kerosene and wrapping it up around a thick stick. 
Lighting it up above the barrel, he held it far in front of him as the flaming tongues spat out. 

"Hey Rudy, come check this out." He said as he walked over to a workbench. 

A few thin arrows were placed next to each other, one of them broken in the middle, a few of its feathers missing too. A magazine "Stay on Target" lay at the far end, while a small pile of cloth was on the other. There was even a box of revolver bullets under the desk.

 

 

"This looks far too..." Morten said, letting the statement hang. 

 

"Sorted out?" Rudy asked.

 

"Yeah...like someone did this recently."

 

Rudy took one of the arrows in his hand, checking it out. 

 

"Looks homemade but... not shit. I think this would be deadly, albeit looking a bit fragile." He said, placing the arrow back down. 

 

"You think whoever made these is close around?" Morten asked, concern in his voice. 

 

"To be honest, I'd rather not find out with a slit throat."

 

"I'll take first watch. You get some sleep."

 

"Yeah. Good night Mort." 

 

"Good night Rudy."

 

As Rudy settled into his sleeping bag placed close to the barrel, Morten looked around a bit more. Upstairs, he found a small badge stitched to a backpack, its design looking creepy and ominous. 

 

 

Despite their desperate wish to find other people, they still held within themselves a note of caution. And seeing stuff like this only encouraged that note. Inside the backpack, he found a few packs of beef jerky, as well as two notes. One looked considerably newer. 

 

"People aren't ready for this kind of change. They live among nature but not with it. Inviting the machine in, well, they'll see how that goes for them down on the road. It's on the road where we'll make our stand. "

 

"The island is free now. Free of the burdens of encroaching technology. But it is not enough. Nature made it clear we are not a part of her plan. We are a thorn in her side unless we prove her our devotion with fire and zeal.

Those that are not with us...must not burden Mother Nature any longer."

 

Reading the mad writings was chilling, despite there being no wind inside. 

Whoever wrote this was a threat to anyone who didn't adhere to their...belief? Ideology? Whatever it was, Morten knew one thing. 

 

He and his friends were not a part of it, and that was a problem. 

 

Gripping the old revolver that stuck out of his jacket, he made a vow that he won't let his guard down. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not until he made sure all of those bastards were dealt with. 

 

-- -- --

-Elsewhere on the Great Bear- Early night-

 

The fire burned within the stove, throwing crimson lines against the floor. A pair of shaky, red fingers warmed close to it. A pot quietly bubbled above on one of the burners. 
Sudden shifting caused the figure to turn around. It was only his companion, splayed on a wooden bench much too small for his size, moving in his sleep. It was a hard week for them. For him. But at least no one else had to suffer here. Not his daughter or his friends. At least he liked to pretend they saw him as their friend. 

His eyes darted away, to the small cupboard next to the stove. A dark-green sewing kit sat on the lowest shelf. He could sure use a few holes on his jacket patched up. Shame he was never as good at mending as Fi....that sellout jester. Then again, he never was good at anything other than killing people or disappointing them. A heavy sigh escaped him as he curled onto two small pillows he grabbed from under the table. Perhaps he deserved this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Well fellas, there you have it, can't say I'm pulling your leg no more!
As always, comments, questions, criticism, and opinions are welcome below in the comments!

Chapter 4: 4th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

--I--

-Inside the old house-Mid afternoon-

 

Standing still, leaning against the wall, Guy endured. The pain, as sharp and as heavy as it was, would pass. He knew it, yet it did little to help alleviate it. 

 

Finally, after another moment, he pushed himself away from the wall, limping into a side room that turned out to be a kitchen. The room didn't appear touched for a long time, as was obvious from a number of cans and containers peeking from the half-open cabinets and shelves. A faint sound of dripping water could be heard coming from the sink. 

 

Sitting down and leaning back onto a wooden chair, Guy tossed his backpack to the side of the table. The sudden feeling of unburdened shoulders gave way to a relaxing sigh as he cracked his neck and loosened his shoulders. 

 

Taking off his jacket, it's front in tatters, he looked down again, towards his injured foot. Now that he was sitting, the pain wasn't as strong, but it was still there. 

 

With a wince and a fair bit of grunting, he pulled off his boot, inspecting the holes left by the canines of the timberwolves. The holes weren't perfect circles, but rather circular tears, the outer side of the footwear torn apart under the gnawing teeth. If the wolf had instead gone just a few centimeters up, for his shin, he would've had nasty open wounds that would irritate and pain even worse than this one. 

 

The sock had to be peeled off, as the blood quickly clotted, making it easier to stem the bleeding, but harder to get to the injury as well. Guy had to grit his teeth hard as he pulled the sock down, revealing his bloodied foot. It was a grisly sight, the ankle sporting a few open wounds that thankfully didn't seem to bleed as much now that some time had passed. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Guy steadied himself. Collected, he opened one of the myriads of zippers on his backpacks, pulling out a miniature, banged-up first-aid medical kit. Clicking open the metal cover, he grabbed a small, clean piece of cloth. Pouring some water onto it from his cantine, he got down to washing away the blood from around the injury, taking great care not to touch the wounds themselves and to not press too much down. The position wasn't the most comfortable, and he quickly found himself sweating, feeling a bead trickle down his brow. 

 

With the area around the wound now clean, he put away the cloth, now pulling out a roll of bandage and the half-empty bottle of antiseptic. He poured some onto the rolled-out bandage, the liquid quickly soaking into large dark spots. A little more he poured onto his cupped hand. Placing the bottle aside, he shoved a good portion of his scarf inside his mouth as he braced for the next part. 

 

Closing his eyes, he placed the cupped hand onto his waiting ankle, the antiseptic meeting the open wound. 

 

A muffled shriek pierced out of him as he bit down on the scarf. Few things felt as painful as rubbing hydrogen peroxide into your open fucking flesh, but Guy wasn't about to give up. Soldiering through the pain, he rubbed the liquid across his whole ankle, making sure to coat every single wound no matter how much his brain screamed to let go. To try and distract his mind from the pain, he tried to pray, but only bits and pieces managed to come out, and he quickly gave up.

 

Wrapping the bandage tightly around the now disinfected wound, he spat out the scarf, a small strand of saliva sticking to it as it hung from his neck. 

 

Finally done with tending to the wound, Guy pressed his hands against his forehead, letting out a silent exhale of relief. Now that he could even remotely relax, a wide gallery of emotions all gathered up in his head. 

 

He was hurting, both from the wound and from exertion. He could feel aches spreading through his body like an annoying rash. 

 

He was angry that things have done this way. Both at himself and at everything around him. Damn the wolves! 

 

He was disappointed. This hadn't gone the way he planned. Instead of exploring far out, he barely managed to get anywhere far before getting injured so harshly that he'll be bedridden for at least two or three days, which was time he could not afford. The others would come looking for him, and he had no way of warning them about the wolves in the town and where he was. The thought of a warning note did slip into his mind, but he felt iffy as to the possibility of them finding it. Sometimes things were just overlooked, and in this case, it could spell a disaster!

 

Just as he was about to lean forward to grab something from the backpack, a blunt thud of a book falling down in another room made him freeze. 

 

He stared out through the half-open doorway, not daring to breathe. 

 

-I-I-I-I-

-Inside the old house, on the stairs-Just now-

 

Loona shot daggers, rockets, and lightning out of her eyes back at the clumsy owl that followed her, all the while not uttering a word, her eyes doing all of the talking.

 

After the man staggered away from the front doors and into a room they hadn't checked, the two girls remained still and silent at the staircase, listening out as to what was going on. For Loona it was much easier, being a hellhound and all. She picked out the smell of blood and could hear the disgruntled noises coming from the human. The sounds of cloth rubbing against the skin. 

 

Then suddenly a sharp, stinging smell of acid, kinda like vinegar, hit her nose. She had to cover it and rely only on her ears, which gave more than enough information. From what she could hear (And she could hear plenty), the guy was disinfecting a wound.

 

Despite all reasons that told her to simply return back up, close the doors silently, and wait for Moxxie and Millie to come back, Loona decided she wanted to take a closer look. After all, curiosity killed the cat, not the hellhound, she doesn't have to worry about that. Until her companion managed to somehow snag a book with her tail feathers, causing it to thud loudly to the ground, kicking up a small dust cloud in the process. 

 

The younger owl just stood silently in embarrassment, her usually white cheeks now crimson red, almost matching her eyes. They were both standing in place, not daring to move any further. 

 

"Hey! Who's there?" the man asked out, making them both wince in surprise. 

 

What were they supposed to do? Going back up wasn't an option anymore. Staying here didn't sound great either, and going out meant passing by the half-open doors to the room he was in. 

 

The two girls looked at eachother, worry on their faces. 

 

"Listen, whoever you are. I don't mean any harm, but I won't hesitate if you do." The man spoke again, and the sound of shifting, as if he was moving about, could be heard. 

 

*Shit! What the fuck do we do?*

 

Before Loona could act, however, Octavia sounded out. 

 

"We don't mean any harm sir! We're just... scared." 

 

On the other side, the man seemed to have stopped breathing. 

Then, a choked laugh came out, as if the man himself was surprised by it.

 

"Jesus Christ Almighty, there are really other people here!" The man shouted out, his voice filled with unsure yet sincere happiness. 

 

"W-what do you mean by other people?" Octavia asked, still keeping her slightly uncertain and scared tone. Whether it was genuine or acting, Loona couldn't tell. Shit, kid would do good in theater. 

 

"We-we-we've been stuck here on this island for like two weeks now! We haven't seen anyone else that was alive...." The man started talking.

 

He talked as if a barrier broke, sometimes unconnected, sometimes following a certain event. Despite his excitement, he was understandable, and they managed to piece together at least a part of what happened here. 

 

A natural phenomenon known as Aurora Borealis seemed to have caused a...change in the world. As the man talked, the fact their phones didn't work clicked with them, only further reinforcing his story. 

 

It may have also been the reason they couldn't reach either Blitz or Stolas...

 

As the man spoke, he ever so often invoked the name of some saint or God himself. Both girls winced whenever he did, as those were among the worst insults one could say in Hell. Loona in particular didn't like to hear anything related to Heaven, remembering the exterminations that occurred every so often, sparing no one caught in their wake. She hadn't said a word through the exchange, letting Octavia speak, but to what goal? 

 

Meanwhile, Octavia herself noticed that that same low glow she saw of the rosary the man put around his neck had been glowing through the wall. It also seemed to spike in intensity, just a little, every time he spoke out the name of someone related to Heaven. She didn't know to make heads or tails of that, and it didn't help her gnawing nervosis.

 

 

"Hey, can you come in here? I haven't seen another living person that wasn't one of my friends in ages!" 

 

The two tensed up at the words, panic now clearly showing in their eyes.

At the lack of the answer, the man let out a short "eh?", before more shuffling could be heard. 

 

"What's wrong? Come on, I don't bite, honest. I won't hurt ya." The man said, not removing even a speck of their fear. Sure he said that now, but if he saw either of them, who knew how things could get? 

 

Wait...if he saw either of them...But he could see them if they used their magic! 

 

 

"Hey, you think you could disguise yourself?"  Loona whispered to Octavia, waving her hands around her body, trying to paint the picture. 

 

Octavia only stared at her for a moment, before her pink eyes lit up with the same realization. 

 

"Can't hurt to try I guess?"  She answered, lifting her hands, palms up. Two small orbs of flowing energy formed around them, constantly moving. 

 

She focused on her appearance, bright purple flames appearing around her legs, engulfing her form but not giving off a lick of warmth as she felt her body changing. Feathers were displaced, replaced by rather pale skin, her beanie slipping down on her eyes as the change completed. 

 

Lifting it up, she saw Loona just finishing her own transformation, light blue flames withering away as she waved her hair around. 

 

 

Just in time, the human decided to wait no longer, and instead see for himself what was going on. Talk about dodging a bullet, heh.

 

--II--
-Somewhere in Mystery Lake- Afternoon-

Ollie and Frederick waddled through the ankle-deep snow, sticking to the already-passed paths to avoid sinking to their knees. As much as the spears in their hands were a morale booster, they were a hamper on their maneuverability. Neither of them had much experience with such weapons. 

 

 

With the sled tied to his backpack, Ollie grunted with each step, before finally groaning in frustration. 

"Argh, what happened to both of us pulling this stuff?" He asked the older man, pointing with his arm to the sled that was trailing a meter behind him. 

"You wanting to take these with us happened," Fred answered, holding up the large spear in his hands. 

After they had found them, Ollie insisted they have to take 'em with them, saying how "That stupid bear won't bother us now that we got these!".
Fred, not one to deny additional protection, agreed. Though now he kinda regretted the decision, as the spear proved to be much heavier on his arms than he imagined. 

Breaking out from beneath the cover of the sparse trees, they reached an old railroad track, its rails barely even visible from the snow that covered everything. Now it was just a short walk to the camp office and after that, it was time for fishing. 

Walking between the two thin metal snakes that were the aged rails, Ollie pulled his scarf down, spitting out a loogie to the side.

"Kinda lame that we're stuck with the boring stuff." He exclaimed, placing the spear on his shoulders and hanging his arms from it as he walked. 

"Boring? What's so boring about fishing and making sure you don't get eaten by either wolves or bears?" Frederick asked, eyes forward. He opted to use the spear as a sort of walking stick instead, the large weapon thudding every time he placed it on the ground in front of him, leaving perfect small circles in its wake. 

"We ain't huntin' or explorin', it's just more of the same old same old. I mean, Guy goes off on his own to explore the island, and the other two are down at that garage, hunting game and stripping the houses of all the comfortables!" Ollie said, envy clear in his voice. He imagined them drinking some hidden booze while being wrapped in tons of blankets, while he had to chop wood and spend hours over a fishing hole, bored to death. He itched for action, to prove himself before they get saved from this island. When will they get saved, he couldn't tell, but knowing his luck, it'd be just before he would go off on his first hunt. 

Just as he wanted to voice his personal frustration to Fred, the other one spoke first.

"Hey, take a look at this." The older man said, pointing to some tracks in the snow. Taking off his backpack, he hurried over to him, as he was now leaning down in front of them. 

"Bear?" Ollie asked in a single breath, gripping the spear harder through his gloves.

"No...these don't look nothin' like a bear. And they look bigger too."

The tracks in question looked like a weird...spike heel hybrid of whatever the fuck size these tracks were? The distance between each was two regular steps either Fred or Ollie had to take, and they seemed to go away from the rail...

 

 

And straight to the camp office!

"Ollie, get the rifle." Frederick said as he pulled out his revolver, cocking the hammer back. Whatever this thing was, he wasn't about to take any chances.

 

Notes:

Apologies for the shorter chapter, there's been a malfunction, some call it "real life". Sounds boring, bleak, and dystopian.

As always I wish you a great weekend and a great start to the next week! Feel free to post questions and comment!

Chapter 5: 5th

Notes:

Feel free to play this whenever you read the chapters if you want to :)
I wish you a good read!

https://youtu.be/c-emIGiKpJU

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text




-/-I-/-

-Inside the old house- Mid-to-late afternoon-

 

As Guy stepped out from the kitchen, the sight he was met with took him by surprise. 

 

A girl, seemingly in her twenties, give or take, stared back at him.

 

A wild mane of white hair hung from the left side of her head, while the right side was neatly shaved. She wore a tattered, grey off-the-shoulder crop top that was held up by a series of strings that, by design or by coincidence, formed an inverted pentagram. The pair of her shorts had a few tatters at the hems, with a large crescent-moon shape on one side. Fingerless gloves, black knee-high socks, and high-top sneakers.

 

Looking back up at her eyes, noting the peculiar shade of red irises, Guy couldn't do much but give out a surprised scoff. 

 

"W-wha-what are you wearing?" He stammered out, unable to wrap his mind around how...scantily clad she was in the middle of winter.

 

"Excuse me?" The girl cut back, a barely noticeable growl heard at the back of her voice. 

 

"I mean...you're wearing  that ," he said, circling with his hand around her outfit ", and you haven't died of hypothermia yet?"

 

At that, the seemingly aggressive attitude seemed to dissipate, replaced by a somewhat embarrassed yet also fearful look on her face.

 

"Oh, that, well I uhh...." She began, drumming the tips of her fingers against each other. 

 

"Her clothes got torn by the wolves and this was all we could muster!" Another girl cut, leaning behind her, partially covered by the long white hair. 

 

Her outfit looked a bit more normal, Guy thought, with a black feathery shawl around her shoulders worn over a glittery pink dress with light yellow stars on it, a black beanie hat with a pale yellow tiara design on it on her head, black leggings, and boots. Her irises were soft pink in color, her face rather pale in comparison to that of her friend. At least he assumed they were friends.

 

"Y-yeah, what she said." The first girl said, nodding enthusiastically while stretching a wide, toothy grin over her face.

 

"Oh, yeah that's...that's understandable," Guy said, looking and pointing down at himself. "In that case, we share an experience I guess. 'Cept I wasn't as lucky as you, ankle and all." 

 

"Does it hurt?" The other girl asked, making Guy chuckle.

 

"Yes, but if it means finding other people, I'd maybe risk the other ankle too in that case."

 

The joke earned a small chuckle out of the two, though it felt more acted than genuine. He didn't mind too much, jokes weren't his forte. 

 

"So, uh...I'm guessin' this ain't your house?" Guy asked, looking around. 

 

"No no, we're just uhh...we're waiting here for the rest of our group." The other girl said, now standing next to the first one. Guy noted she was just a tiny bit higher, but maybe it was the posture, compared to the first girl. 

 

"Oh, I see, I see...Ah right, I'm Guy." He said, extending his arm for a greeting. 

 

"A guy?" The first girl asked.

 

"Yea, like Guy Fawkes. Or Guy Fieri. Both work I think?" 

 

"Ahh, like a name." She said, extending her arm into a handshake. 

 

"Loona."

 

"Ah, like the moon."

 

---




The three of them were settled around the fireplace, the fire burning bright and giving the whole room a pleasant, orange glow, as well as always desired warmth. Guy sat a bit to himself on a chair, propping his injured foot on a small wooden stool while the girls moved a small sofa closer to the fireplace.

 

While Guy tended to his jacket, the girls tried on a few apparels of clothing they took from upstairs. Octavia put on a pair of baggy jeans along with a warm Cowichan sweater, liking the knitting patterns, while Loona put on a white fisherman sweater, a pair of cargo pants, and a pair of mountaineering boots Guy said were "perfect for this place".

 

"So, how long have you been waiting for your friends?" Guy asked, looking up from his jacket (which he began to question the worth of sewing back). 

 

"It's been uh...a few hours now?" Octavia said, unsure of how long it has been exactly. 

 

"Are they armed? With guns and such." 

 

"Yup, fatty always has a gun on him. And Mills has that knife of hers." Loona pitched in, her gaze occupied with adjusting the sweater. 

 

"Fatty?" Guy asked, leaning his head to the side, putting down the needle. 

 

"Why do you call him like that?" Octavia asked, to which Loona scoffed. 

 

"Come on, you know why." As if it was obvious. 

 

"So uh...he got a name?" Guy, deciding he doesn't want to open that can of worms, instead tried to focus on the more important matters. 

 

"He's called Moxxie. Or Mox."

 

"Uh-huh," Guy said, nodding. "Gotta say, y'all got some funny names."

 

"Says the guy with a noun for a name," Octavia said, giving him a joke-serious look. 

 

"Ha, you got me there. But they ain't bad. They're quite nice."

 

"Mmh," Octavia responded, turning back to the small pile of clothing items that sat between the two girls. 

 

It felt weird being in a human form. She hadn't exactly practiced it, but the pressure of the moment seemed to have done the job rather well. She wondered what dad would say if he saw it. 

 

Dad. Where was he? Despite Guy's talks, there was still little information to piece to where she could begin looking. For now, the best she could do was to wait for the imps to come back. At least she hoped they would come back.

 

-//-//-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- Mid-morning- 2nd Day-




Blitz snored loudly in his makeshift bed in front of the iron stove, inside of which the last little fire embers still tingled among the ashes.

 

Stolas stretched out again on the wooden bench much too small for his size, this time overdoing it and slipping down to the ground with a thud. 

 

Jolting from his sleep, he opened his two pairs of eyes, looking in shock as to where and what was happening. It took him a moment to calm down and think back to everything that happened. Running a hand through his hair, he stood up, his head coming close to the ceiling. Walking over to the sleeping imp, he looked down at him, reaching out to caress his face, but he stopped halfway. He wanted but decided not to. Instead, he reached for a piece of wood. Opening the hatch on the iron stove, he hastily plopped it inside, afraid of getting burned, giving the lingering flames much-needed fuel. He wasn't used to doing such tasks, and they were rather foreign, but he was smart enough to piece two and two from time to time. 

 

Just as he was about to step away, some loud sounds from outside startled him. 

 

*What could that be?*  The owl prince thought to himself, nearing a window that looked out into the snow-covered yard. 

 

Stepping close, almost touching the glass with his beak, he looked both ways, trying to see anything that could have made that noise. He could swear he heard a similar kind of it before. 

 

Another one broke, this time sounding much more familiar. Gunfire. 

Before he could do anything, a hand pulled him away with such force he didn't have the time to react. 

 

"You don't poke your head out when someone is shooting stupid!" Blitz yelled at him as the owl demon collapsed down next to him. 

 

"Well, good morning to you too," Stolas said in a low voice, liking the closeness of his partner. Before he could stop himself, he snaked his hands around him, pulling him in for a hug. 

 

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, to which the imp only grunted, trying to pry himself away. 

 

Loud, hasty footsteps against the wooden floor rather close stopped their little cuddling/getting away session.

 

 

--III--

-Somewhere near Pleasant Valley homestead- Mid-morning- 2nd Day-

 

Morten woke up to the smell of meat sizzling in a pan and fresh coffee.

Since Rudy took up guard duty somewhere in the early hours (At least they estimated it was early hours), he also made breakfast as the daylight broke and started to peek from behind the mountains. 

 

It was always nice to eat, even if the meal sometimes wasn't a gourmet wonder. Anything to stave off starvation was good enough, especially when it was still warm from the pot, kettle, or open fire. As Morten chewed on the deer meat (which he salted vigorously beforehand), he and Rudy exchanged what little things transpired over the night, from the backpack with its symbol, to the plan as to what to do next. The obvious was to, of course, head forward towards the light they have seen yesterday, and if the good weather kept up, it shouldn't be an issue. 

 

And so they walked out, having to push the doors with plenty of force, as the snow from the blizzard piled onto it overnight. The outside world looked...well, not too changed. It was still full of snow, with the frozen trees swaying with the wind. But now that they were outside during the day, they could see the vast ring of mountains that circled around them on all sides. The sight was...nice, for the lack of a better word. If things were different, it would be pleasant to spend a day out here.

 

---

 

Oh how Rudy missed music. The world was so boringly quiet without it, the constant blowing of the wind a blunt background noise that constantly thumped at one's mind. As he trudged forward through the shin-deep snow, he thought of how the strumming of a guitar sounded, remembering the sounds of random instruments and songs that all melted and washed over eachother inside his mind, lost in a sea of music.

 

As he walked, suddenly his left foot fell through deeper than normal, causing him to slip forward and to the side. It was at that same moment that a loud whizzing passed his ears, almost like a fast bee. 

 

Not a second later, he felt a heavy hand push him down into the snow, the sound of Mortens voice close but sounding so far away. 

 

"GET DOWN, SOMEONE'S SHOOTING AT US!" 

 

His voice was drowned out as another shot rang out, hitting the mound of snow a bit in front of them, sending a cloud of white in all directions. 

 

"GET UP, MOVE!" Morten shouted again, pulling him with savage strength from his place on the ground, bits of snow peeling off of his clothes as both stumbled forward, breaking into a strained, clumsy run. 

 

Up the mound, they went, and a saving grace appeared in front of them, some 50 meters or so- A large farmhouse, out of which a thin column of smoke trailed into the air.

 

Both rushed down the small incline, leaving clouds of steam behind them with every breath as another shot rang out, this time whizzing higher above them. 

 

They neared the entrance when the next shot struck. 

 

Rudy looked as Morten was knocked forward like a cloth doll. Before Rudy could even stop in terror, he caught himself before his face met the ground, springing back up, pulling him by the sleeve. 

 

Slamming open the doors of the enclosed glass porch, the two crashed against the doors to the inside, pressing against the handle. One of the glass panels shattered as a bullet shot through it, denting into the wooden wall. 

 

"Fuck, open you piece of..."

 

Pulling back, they both rammed the door at the same time. Wood cracked as the lock gave way, and they both fell forward into the house. Scampering to their feet, they slammed the door shut, leaning against it as if someone is gonna come through. 

 

"M-Mort, you've been shot man..." Rudy said, his voice shaky as he tried to regain his composure.

 

Morten didn't answer, instead taking off his backpack, which dropped loudly to the floor, and proceeded to check himself for any wounds. He took off his jacket, moving his hands under the layers of clothing to his skin, feeling for a wound.

 

"N-no...nothing. Nothing anywhere..." He stammered out, as if he couldn't believe his own words. 

 

Their eyes darted to the backpack lying on the ground. Kneeling in front of it, Morten shuffled through the contents, before pulling out what appeared to be a can of corn, now sporting a rather noticeable hole on one side. 

 

"Not the corn..." Rudy said in a sad voice, earning a look of disbelief from his friend. 

 

"Guess it's lead corn instead of sweet corn now huh?" Another voice added, to which both men looked around, finally noticing they were not alone in what appeared to be a kitchen. 

 

Close to a large iron stove, inside of which fire crackled, two... things  were splayed on the floor, one in the arms of another. The two men froze.

 

The smaller one had crimson skin, with a large white spot around its right eye. Two large, curved horns extended from a long, narrow head, on the forehead of which was a heart-shaped skull symbol. It was dressed in a tattered collared coat that went down below its knees, up to which went a pair of black boots.

 

The larger one, the one the smaller one was on top of, resembled a large yet skinny owl. Its white face resembled a stretched heart in shape, with a small black beak in the middle. It was surrounded by gray-blue feathers that darkened at the ends, with a faint white streak going from between the two red eyes that were above a larger set of red eyes...

 

Both Morten and Rudy took a step back, not uttering a word as their minds struggled to comprehend what they were looking at. Rudy was completely frightened, not taking his eyes off the weird pair, but Morten managed to hold to a small piece of composure, pulling his friend back steadily, fearing that if they move too quickly that things won't end well. 

 

The larger figure leaned its head to the side, staring back with its two pairs of red eyes, before opening its beak to speak. 

 

"Well good day to you gentlemen, quite the weather out there isn't it?" It spoke in a regal yet soft voice that screamed royalty, at least to one of the two men. Royalty or not, it speaking shocked both, Rudy letting out a strained gasp as their backs hit the wooden wall behind them. The contact seemed to have flipped a switch. 

 

"W-what the fuck?" Rudy stammered out, his eyes never leaving the two figures. 

 

The smaller figure eyed them both, its eyes showing a mix of both amusement and caution. After a moment it grinned, revealing a row of yellow, sharp teeth. 

 

"What, you two never seen two demons of hell in your home?" It asked in a nonchalant, comedic voice, while also moving to stand up. 

 

At first, they hadn't answered, but as the meaning of the words sank in, Morten let out a dry chuckle, not believing what he was seeing and hearing. 

 

Surely, he must still be sleeping in that barn. To test it, he gave himself a hard slap, the skin feeling like it was set ablaze. 

 

"What are you doing?" Rudy asked, his fright gone, yet his voice shaky.

 

"Just wanted to see if I was dreaming this shit," Morten admitted, voice full of disappointment and defeat.

 

"Ha, wish that I was dreaming being stuck here too." The... demon  added on, now leaning against a small open wooden shelf that stood between them and the men.

 

Taking a deep breath, Morten eyed the demon, trying to get over the fact that this was, in fact,  real

 

"So..." He started, unsure of what to ask first. 

 

"So?" The demon replied back, seemingly amused by their surprise. 

 

"Uh...this ain't our house." Rudy suddenly spoke up, causing all heads to turn to him. 

 

"Y-ya said that this was our home. I-it ain't. Just wanted to, y'know, say that." He explained, seeming embarrassed, his voice lowering as he neared the end of his explanation. 

 

"So you just barged into someone else's home?" 

 

"Hey, we were being shot at! What would you do?" 

 

"I'd kill the fucker that thought he could shoot at me and get away with it,  obviously ." 

 

"Yeah well, good luck when you're out in the open with no cover or idea from where you're getting shot at." Morten retorted, now kneeling down and grabbing his backpack. He set down the can of corn that he held in his hand this whole time and proceeded to check the outer part of the backpack. 

 

"Well fuck, that will need patching up." He said as he pushed his finger through a sizeable hole left in the fabric. 

 

"Are you kidding me right now?" Rudy asked, looking down at his friend, disbelief written over his face. 

 

"What? I like my backpack without holes in it."

 

"You're checking out your backpack while there are literal DEMONS in the same room with you! What the fuck!" Rudy shouted, pointing at the two demons, the larger one now standing at its full height, making Rudy put his hand down and look away. 

 

Morten looked at him, then at the other two before speaking. 

 

"Rudy, as much as this situation is stupidly unbelievable, and as much as I'd like to, freaking out won't do me no good."

 

He let the words hang a bit as he looked for something inside his backpack. 

 

"Besides, if these two wanted to hurt us, I'm pretty sure they could have done that the moment we entered." He continued, now shifting his look to the two. 

 

"You fellas...cool?" He asked, carefully laying out the last word. 

 

In return, the two first looked at eachother, then back at him. The smaller demon chuckled. 

 

"Hah, that was a shitty pun." He said, making Morten realize that the choice of words could've been better. 

 

"But yeah, we're cool." 

 

Nodding at the answer, Morten looked down and pulled out a can.

"In that case, would you like a cup of coffee?" 

 

---

 

Blitz and Rudy, despite his uncertainty and discomfort, went off into a nearby barn to feed a horse Blitz said he "took under his care". Meanwhile, the other two remained in the house.

 

"You seem pretty calm about this uh...Morten was it?" The larger demon asked the man as he tended to the hole in his backpack, the demon sitting close to him at the small table. 

 

To that, Morten simply sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 

 

"It's been a rough two weeks, and anyone and anything else we met on this island until now was either dead or trying to make us dead. At this point, I think talking with demons from Hell isn't that bad. Especially considering the alternatives." He ended, shuddering at the thoughts. 

 

After the initial one-sided shock, the four managed to...well, manage out between themselves. Morten offering a cup of coffee seemed to have put him in a good spot with the smaller demon, who introduced himself as Blitz with a silent "o" (To which Morten wondered where the fuck an "o" was in "Blitz"). The taller demon introduced himself as prince Stolas, which put an interesting question at the back of Morten's mind. 

 

"Soo, what's a prince doing in a frozen hell of an island?" He asked, pulling the needle through the hole again, making it just a little bit smaller again. 

 

Now it was Stolas' turn to let out a sigh, grasping at his mug. 

 

"It's a story and a half at this point."

 

"Your highness, we have literally nothing else to do," Morten stated bluntly in a mock posh voice, earning a look, and then a chuckle. 

 

"Well, I suppose you're right."

 

 

-?-?-?-

-Inside an angler's cabin in an unnamed canyon-

 

A hooded man sat at the wooden table, leaning over several pieces of paper, seemingly reading over the scribbled texts. As he would pass a certain line or word, he would groan or scoff, rarely also giving an amused chuckle. 

 

Rather little of what was written made any sense. The letters, sent by other members of their group, talked about the animals attacking them on sight (That part he was familiar with, he experienced it firsthand), but also talked of two weird figures that were seen leaving Milton through the tunnel and into Pleasant Valley on the other side. Reading the description was like reading something out of a poorly written fantasy novel, so much so that he doubted if maybe they got into some of old Martin's booze stash and made all of this up while wasted.

 

Looking up from what was now clearly a waste of time, he gazed out of the small window, looking at the withered trees outside. Despite the snow and the cold, some disease unknown to him had taken hold of all the trees in the region. They looked fine at first sight, but the wood was dry. Each and every part of every single tree was dry as desert sand. No one in the group could explain what had happened, or what the disease was, and they had little reason to worry in the first place. It wouldn't be the first time trees were struck by some ailment, but Mother Nature would get rid of the weak and the unnecessary. 

 

 There were other, more pressing matters at hand. 

 

Such as that rag-tag group from Mystery Lake. Now that Milton and Thompson's Crossing were dealt with, as well as the cannery and the whaling station, this five-man group was the next in line. 

 

Mother Nature will claim the Great Bear back completely.

 

- - - -

-Close to the Pleasant Valley farmhouse-

 

Two hooded figures laid face-down in the snow, unmoving. Blood stained their backs, and there were specks and splatters all around them. Their backpacks were lying open next to them, some of the contents strewn around, but the important things- Food, ammunition, that sort of thing, were gone. And only a single pair of boot footprints led away from the grisly scene. 

Notes:

There we go, Guy, Morten, and Rudy meet (Some partially) the demons! I hope I managed to authentically write them, and that I continue to do so going forward.
I highly encourage you to comment and question, as well as give other HB fanfics a read if you haven't already, most notably "House of Asmodeus", "Backstage", and "Helluva Broken Day". I wish you all a great rest of the week!

Chapter 6: 6th

Notes:

Feel free to play this whenever you read the chapters if you want to :)
I wish you a good read!

https://youtu.be/c-emIGiKpJU

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text





-/-I-/-

 

The warmth was getting to Guy. His lids became heavier and heavier with each passing moment as he tried to concentrate on a small book in his hands. After dozing off for the umpteenth time, he shook his head, letting out a groan. 

 

"Alright, I'm clockin' out. You two don't forget the fire, and if anything comes up don't be afraid to wake me up, okay?" He talked as he moved from his spot, unbuckling a bedroll from the bottom of his backpack. The two girls, now done with choosing new clothes for themselves, were now playing chess on the sofa, and it seemed Octavia was winning, the pile of taken figures larger than the one on Loonas side.

 

Octavia looked back at him, a confused look on her face. 

 

"And you trust us to do nothing wrong to you?" She asked rather bluntly, earning a half-angry and half-surprised look from Loona. Guy simply shrugged as he rolled out the bedroll a small distance from the fireplace, but not too close to catch fire. 

 

"Having faith in others burned me in the past, but I still persist in believing. It got me through hard times before, it'll get me through this too." He said, taking off one of the two shirts he had on him as he began to prepare for sleep. 

 

"Besides, if you do, in fact, "do wrong to me" as you put it, I'd prefer if it was done while I'm asleep. Best way to go out, especially when you're warm and fed." Guy continued, letting out a yawn, stretching out. 

 

The question she asked did put a small thought of doubt in him, but he smothered it, knowing full well that they could have probably overpowered him if they tried. 

 

As much as one small part of him spoke of caution, he believed. He believed nothing wrong would happen to him, and he was content, at least at this moment, with the possibility of his belief being proved wrong.

 

"Listen, the bottom line is, as much as it's against any survival rules or whatever, I choose to believe in you two, and in your group too. I'm not going to stab you in the back, you have my word, even if it isn't worth much." He took a moment, looking at the two, before he said his last.

 

"We either survive together or die alone."

 

---

 

Both Loona and Octavia kept playing after Guy went to sleep. But in reality, they just moved the pieces without thinking, the game being finished ages ago. They waited for him to fall into deep sleep, so as not to alarm him. 

 

Loona looked behind Octavia and to the man sleeping inside his bedroll, then back to the other girl. Giving her a nod, she started getting up. 

 

Both girls went up the stairs, the aged wood creaking under their steps, making them wince at the loud noise. But Guy was exhausted from the day, and they'd need a canon to wake him up. Not that they wanted to risk it. 

 

Setting down into the same room they first went into, having to step over a pile of books, the girls sat at the bed. Uncomfortable silence loomed over them before Loona spoke.

 

"Good save back there." She said.

 

"Wha-? Oh,yea...no problem," Octavia answered ", though I think we are in a bigger one right now."

 

"We are?" 

 

"Well, yea! We got this human with us that knows nothing about who we are, and we don't know where the others are, I-I-I..." Octavia began to babble before Loona caught her by the shoulders, acting before thinking.

 

"Hey, get it together princess, there's nothing to worry about. If he tries anything, I can just rip his throat out." She said, looking the other girl square in the eye, waiting for her to calm down. After a few moments, she did, to which Loona exhaled and let go. 

 

"Though despite who... what ...he is, I'm certain he won't do anything as long as we are in these forms." She further explained, running her fingers through the wild mane of her hair. 

 

"And...how are you certain of it?" Octavia asked carefully, tugging at her sleeve. 

 

"It's...kind of a hellhound thing. It's subtle, but people give off different smells depending on what they say and how they act. And when he talked down there, he meant every word. Either that or that  stupid  cross necklace is messing with my nose." Loona said, referring to the rosary that Guy kept around his neck. 

 

Octavia only nodded, looking out the dirty window. The sky outside darkened with every moment, night settling down over the land. Despite the grime, she could make out some of the shiniest stars blinking into view. 

 

"I want to believe him, but it's not... easy when you come from a place of royal backstabbing games and petty politics. But if you'll protect us, then I guess..."

 

"Like you can't use your magic to, I don't know, break his bones or strip the meat off of them?" Loona asked, tilting her head to the side. 

 

"I guess..." Octavia answered, unsure of how will her magic act the next time she tries to use it. Despite her father, she wasn't the most natural magic user. Then again, she didn't exactly try hard in terms of practice and study of the same. 

 

She felt a hand grasp her own, looking at Loona as the older girl gave her a trying smile. 

 

"Hey, that doesn't sound like the girl that managed to get us out of two fucked situations." She tried to encourage her, the words worming her way to Octavia, and she had to agree. 

 

"Heh, you're right. Though I got us into trouble in the first place, heh..." 

 

"Well yea, but don't let that get ya down," Loona answered without sugarcoating it, getting up from the bed "You made up for it, heh." 

 

Octavia gave a weak smile, but before she could get up, the sound of doors opening got their attention. Loona perked up, eyes wide in dread. 

 

"Oh fuck, those two don't know about him!" She said, sprinting out of the room, leaving Octavia to wonder what she meant. Instead of following her, this time she decided to stay behind at least for a moment. She could use some time with her thoughts, without anyone else in the room. 

 

---

 

Loona sprinted down the stairs just in time to catch the two imps closing the doors behind them. 

 

Millie and Moxxie, the married couple and employees of her father's company looked like they'd been through hell. Their skin, usually lively red, was pale and dark. Their outfits were covered in melting snow and blood, tattered beyond the usual. Moxxie was missing one of his fingerless gloves, Millie had one of her crop-top straps gone, and both had cuts and bruises all over, black blood barely noticeable. Both shuddered all over, and their movements seemed slowed down as if the limbs couldn't move all the way.

 

"Fucking Lucifer, what happened to you two?" Loona whispered loudly as the couple pulled each other away from the door. 

 

"Wolves, so many wolves..." Moxxie uttered out, his voice shaky as he leaned onto his wife. 

 

"Hang in there honey, we're safe now, and they ain't gonna bother us anymore." Millie encouraged him as they slowly made their way to the fireplace. 

 

"Just be quiet you two. We got someone with us here." Loona pleaded, pointing at the sleeping bag not too far from the crackling fire. 

 

The pair looked at it for just a brief moment before they fell down in front of the fireplace, extending their shaking hands out as if trying to grasp the flames and wrap themselves in their warmth. Relaxed sighs escaped them as they sat there, with Loona staring down at the sorry sigh, a feeling of guilt flickering inside her at their state. If she went with them, maybe things would've been different. Crap. But maybe she could help now. 

 

Walking away, into the kitchen, she shuffled through the shelves, trying to find something that the two could eat. She found several cans and decided on the tomato soup. Grabbing a cooking pot, she went back to the living room to find the pair taking off parts of their clothes and trying to clean some of their wounds. Setting the cooking pot and the can on the side, she stepped over to the large backpack the man kept close to him, pulling it away silently, surprised at how heavy it was. Did he keep stones in there or something?

 

Rummaging through it, she found the miniature, banged-up first-aid medical kit she saw him put away before. Pulling it out, she handed it over to Millie, the imp taking it with a nod. 

 

"So what happened?" Loona asked again, wanting a better explanation of why the couple was soo messed up. Moxxie looked at his wife, who nodded and began to clean his wounds as she spoke. 

 

"When we got out, we figured it'd be best to get to high ground, so we walked up to some old radio tower that looked over the whole town. And at first, everything was nice and dandy, albeit a bit cold and all." Millie started explaining, cleaning one of Moxxies back wounds. 

 

"Then all of a sudden, we heard howlin', and before you knew it, a wolf pack was upon us. Moxxie shot a lot of 'em down, but there were so many of 'em we had to run!" She continued the story, explaining how they had to climb over rocks and run through narrow ravines, essentially making one giant loop around the town outskirts, all the while being chased by the wolves. 

 

"We didn't find anything that could point us to Blitz or the prince. Even if there was anything, we were too busy to notice." Moxxie said, annoyance clear in his voice. 

 

Meanwhile, Millie was tending to his tail, giving him an occasional scratch at its base, while also checking for any injuries. 

 

Loona cursed under her breath. She hoped there would be at least something to drive them forward, to give them a way to go, but it seemed they will have to rely on Guy for that. Speaking of the man, she decided it wouldn't hurt to check what else he had in his backpack. The man wouldn't mind, as he was silently sleeping in his bedroll, the only movement coming from him being the rhythmic moving of his chest. 

 

"Wait, so, what happened with you and the princess? Where is she? And who is this?" Millie asked the hellhound, pointing at Guy. 

 

"I'll tell you everything, just not so loud. And help me open this." Loona said, taking a can opener from the backpack and pointing at the tomato soup can. 

 

-*-*-*-

-Inside the camp office- Afternoon-

 

 

Fizzarolli enjoyed the quiet that Asmodeus took him to. Away from the constant hustle and bustle of the Lust Ring, from the everyday places and people. Just the two of them, as he preferred it.

 

This little winter wonderland was a pristine wilderness full of untouched snow and high trees, with tall mountains on the horizon anywhere you looked. They made snow angels despite the cold and Ozzies dislike of them and even had a little snowball fight. And now they were drying off inside this nice cabin, enjoying hot cocoa his... lover  prepared for them before they came here. 

 

Snuggling deeper into his place on the blanket-covered sofa, Fizz looked at Ozzie as he tried to figure out what was wrong with the TV. He planned for them to watch a movie, but they couldn't turn on the device, so the king of Lust was currently kneeling over the old thing, trying to figure out what was wrong. 

 

He wondered why they came into this seemingly random cabin. Surely Ozzie had a secluded, private place somewhere on the surface, so what gives? Still, he decided not to ask about it, deeming it not as important as enjoying the moment. Or in this case, the seductive view. 

 

"Someone enjoying himself?" Ozzie asked still looking over some hidden part of the TV, his voice snapping Fizz from his dreamy state. Crap, he forgot how he could feel any and all emotions from an individual. But then again, it wasn't always a bad thing. 

 

The jester shrugged at the question. "Ah, what can I say, this view is a nice replacement for that movie you promised. And the cocoa is nice too." He added, taking a sip of the steaming hot drink. 

 

Before Ozzie could respond, he was cut off by a quiet creaking of the opening wooden door somewhere below them. Both looked at each other, wondering if one of them maybe forgotten to close the door right?

 

"You think it's still in here though?" A young male voice asked a question, seemingly to someone else with him. 

 

"Shh shh, quiet." Another, older-sounding voice whispered, to which the voices died down. The creaking of wood under singular steps was now the only noise coming from the base floor. The footsteps split each to their own. At moments they'd stop, then continue again, and neither Fizz nor Asmodeus knew what was going on down there. As Ozzie wanted to lean over a railing to see what was going on, Fizz extended his prosthetics, pulling him back, pressing a finger against his lips, making it clear to "keep quiet". As he did that, the footsteps stopped.

 

Then the young voice sounded again. 

 

"Fred, I don't think there's anyone here." It spoke out, yet a note of it sounded different than before.

 

The name made Fizz flinch, but he kept quiet, snaking his hands around Ozzies. 

 

The other voice didn't sound. The two demons didn't know what to make of the situation. 

 

"Come on man, enough with the suspicion. It was probably just a moose that got close and then wandered away." The young voice persisted, annoyance clear in the voice.

 

There was no response, instead, another creak sounded through the space that began to feel stuffy and uncomfortably hot. Fizz felt hot under the sweater Ozzie gave him, but he didn't want to move, instead gripping around his arm tighter. Ozzie himself didn't show any concern, nor did the ram or the bull in his mane give off anything other than curiosity as to the voice below. 

 

"W-whatever man, I'm leaving. We still gotta fish before the night, and I don't intend to stay in those huts after dark." The younger voice seemed irritated, and loud stomps seemed to head towards the front door. It opened and then slammed shut. The other voice cursed in a low tone before more steps sounded off. 

 

"Goddamit kid, can't let me do anything right." It spoke out louder than before. The doors opened again, and closed back, this time with less force. 

 

Ozzie leaned over the fence, using his large size for balance, and peeked down under. 

 

--II--

-Outside the camp office- Minutes before-

 

Frederick stepped onto the outside porch, seeing the tracks carried the snow over onto the wooden boards, and it led straight towards the front doors. 

 

"Bah, look at this mess. Whatever it is, it's definitely in there." He said, checking again that the round was loaded in the rifle. An old .303 caliber bolt-action hunting rifle, it was powerful enough to take down bears and moose with well-placed shots. Whatever was in there, Fred hoped it would be enough for it too if it came to it. 

 

 

"And why are we coming in after it again?" Oliver asked, holding Fred's revolver at the ready. The spears were left with the sled, along with their backpacks, all placed neatly on top. 

 

"Number one, it's in one of the few places that are warm enough and protected enough from the cold. Number two, there's plenty of stuff we have in there that I and others would prefer to be in our hands and not ravaged by some stupid beast. Number three, I'm sick and tired of having to deal with animals that seemingly forgot who's at the top of the food chain." Fred said, with Ollie smirking. 

 

"Leave it to Fred to be philosophical in at least one of his reasons, heh." 

 

Frederick only rolled his eyes at his remark, opening the doors with an audible creaking of the hinges and the aged wood. It appeared the doors were opened normally, without being busted open. 

 

"You think it's still in here though?" Ollie asked behind him as the two stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind him. 

 

"Shh shh, quiet." Was all Fred told him, focusing more on checking every corner. Rifle forward, he walked slowly over the creaking floor, no matter how lightly he tried to tread. Oliver went to the other side, seemingly accepting the fact Fred was serious about this, and that following his example will make this go by faster. 

 

Then, right in between taking two steps, both Fred and Ollie heard a faint sound of... whirring coils ? Whatever the sound was, it was sudden, it sounded mechanical, and it came from above. Looking at each other without a word, Fred pointed to the ceiling, Ollie nodding in confirmation. They hadn't imagined it.

 

"Fred, I don't think there's anyone here." Ollie spoke out, causing Frederick to snap his head back to him. As he did so, that same mechanical sound sounded out, barely noticeable between the wind that blew outside and the rush Fred felt coursing through his body. 

 

Ollie just pressed a finger against his lips, and then formed a sign of a fishing hook with his index finger. He pulled the hook back, and then made a fist, as if crushing the hook.

 

*Bait it in a trap!*

 

Of course! Whatever that thing was, Fred was sure it was alerted to their presence, and right now going up the stairs was as much of a death sentence as trying to wrestle a bear.

 

Nodding to his friend, Fred aimed his rifle at the stairs. 

 

"Come on man, enough with the suspicion. It was probably just a moose that got close and then wandered away." Ollie spoke out again, moving closer to the door, then stopping again, listening. Another whirl came through, much shorter in length as if the thing was edging closer to the prime moment. Ollie gulped down, his free arm trembling. Fred closed his mind to the fear that wanted to pry inside, slowing his breathing, his vision narrowing, focusing on the thin strip of space. 

 

"W-whatever man, I'm leaving. We still gotta fish before the night, and I don't intend to stay in those huts after dark." Ollie finished, intentionally stomping on the floor as he made his way to the front doors. Opening them, he made a single step in place and then slammed them shut. 

 

Fred let out a low curse as Ollie faked his footsteps, kneeling down next to the door as he took aim. 

 

"Goddamit kid, can't let me do anything right." Frederick said louder than he needed to, signaling. Oliver opened the door again and closed it back, this time with less force.

 

The moment he did so, they both heard something large shifting above them. 

 

The two friends braced against their weapons.

 

-//-III-//-

- Barn close to the Pleasant Valley homestead- Mid-morning- 2nd Day-

 

 

To say that Rudy's psyche was scrambled was putting it mildly. Saying that it was brought up to the peak of optimism with those lights in the distance, then dampened by both the Mortens findings in the barn, and then by the shooting, and in the end turned upside down and shredded at the realization of who was the cause of those lights in the distance, that might be putting it closer to how it was. 

 

Because Rudy was distraught. Every, or at least a large amount of lines of thought he held to through life, seemed to have been lies or half-truths, or something else entirely. 

 

Like the fact, Hell existed. And demons from Hell. That came to Earth, to the "living world" (A name that he wasn't sure would be a good description of it nowadays) seemingly without any issues. And out of any kind of friendly face, they end up with faces of an imp and a Goteian prince (Gotian? Goshian? He couldn't remember correctly, it was a blur).

 

And right now, he was walking with said imp, a creature that by the laws of science should not exist, to a nearby barn to feed a horse. 

 

*So if I was an atheist this whole time, am I going to Hell? Or am I going to Hell because I'm helping a minion of Hell? But what if it's for a good thing? I mean, we are feeding an animal so it doesn't starve to death...* 

 

Rudy continued to suffer in silence as his mind raced, not realizing he was being called by the same imp he thought about. 

 

And while Blitz usually wouldn't give a shit, he needed information, something he's been sorely lacking for the past week (Among other things). Not only that, he needed someone to talk to that wasn't himself or Stolas. The prince has been occupying his mind too much for the past week, making him question his feelings and emotions at every turn, and he needed a break.

 

He tried snapping his fingers, but that only made 'em hurt in the cold. He tried clapping, but he felt stupid doing it. So he resorted to the truest method of getting someone's attention, by punching them in the shoulder. 

 

Rudy was so occupied that he almost fell to the snow-covered ground, but he reacted surprisingly fast, finding his footing and jumping back at the demon to throw a counter. 

 

Blitz dodged it and pushed the man away, the exchange giving him a chuckle. 

 

"Hey now, I only wanted to get your attention, not your appreciation too."

The imp said, not moving his eyes from him, wondering if he'll stop or continue. 

 

The man staggered for a moment, turning around, standing in place. He eyed the shorter imp with anger, but it quickly dissipated, like air out of an unbound balloon. 

 

"You didn't have to hit me jackass." Rudy said, rubbing at the spot that the imp hit him, more out of instinct than of actual pain.

 

"If you weren't so far up your own ass thinking about whatever the fuck, maybe I wouldn't have to." Blitz answered, continuing to walk towards the barn, hearing the other catching up behind him. 

 

"So, what do you want?" Rudy asked, walking alongside him. 

 

"A warm fucking bath would be nice, but now I wanna know what's up will all this." Blitz said, waving his hands around to show he probably meant the island. 

 

"Why's there no electricity and why are the animals angry as fuck?" Rudy asked, to which Blitz only nodded, stuffing his arms inside his pockets. 

 

"Well..."

 

---

 

"And you've been here for two weeks and haven't seen or heard from anyone else till now?" Blitzo asked after Rudy finished the story. They were now inside the small barn that was on the outskirts of the farmstead, Blitz feeding the old mare as Rudy held the bucket with food. He could see a few carrots sticking outside the pile of oats and some wheat, while Blitz held some hay in his hands. 

 

"Yeah, you two are the first people we came in contact with if you don't count whoever was shooting at us when we came into the house."

 

The imp only nodded, more occupied with feeding the horse that neighed happily at his touch, rubbing against his extended hand. 

 

"If someone told me yesterday I'd be feeding a horse with an imp from Hell itself, I would've considered it a bad joke." Rudy said, to which Blitz looked up to him. 

 

"What, you don't believe in Hell and Heaven?"

 

"Until now, no. And I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it, to be honest, heh" Rudy answered, the weak chuckle showing that he indeed thought of this as some sort of joke. 

 

"Oh, when you die I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get to know one or the other." Blitz answered, to which Rudy scoffed. 

 

"I don't plan on dying any time soon." 

 

"Don't we all?" 

 

"Mmh." 

 

They continued to care for the horse in silence, the wind outside being the only one voicing its icy thoughts. 

 

- - - -

-Outskirts of Carter Hydro Dam, Winding River-

 

Several hooded figures, their capes covered in snow and their boots wet, made their way towards the large facility across the ice. Some carried bows, others carried rifles. Each had either a hatchet or a machete attached to their backpacks or bodies. Their faces were covered with ski masks and scarves, protecting them from the cold. 

 

An ominous patch was on the backpack of every single one. 

Notes:

Okay, in this chapter your author lives up to his tags (One specific tag to be precise if you can guess it good for you) and is very much uncertain.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll slink away to my bed and await what I'm assuming is going to be, a shitshow

With that said, I wish you a wonderful weekend, and may all your plans go through smoothly, and may you have pleasant time sleeping.

Chapter 7: 7th

Notes:

This chapter will deviate a little from the usual, but because of it the next chapter will sport the largest word count to date, be sure of that.

The song that you see through the chapter is a bit tweaked version of this one- https://youtu.be/O_3_-UrhZH0

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



-?-?-?-

-Secluded Hunting Lodge near the abandoned Breyerhouse Depot-

 

"They'll look high and they'll look low

They'll look everywhere we go

But when the sinners find us, we won't hide

They'll come loud and they'll come fast

We shoot first and we can last

Keep your rifle by your side"

 

-

 

Inside a small office, an old man sat at a desk, his dry, wrinkled face lit up by the faint light of a candle. In his hands, he held a small flyer, the paper yellowed from age and exposure.

 

He recalled those early days when they started this silly endeavor. Though then they didn't see it as silly. They saw it as a way to strike back against those that wanted to take what little they had on this island. 

 

The man read over the words printed on the paper, the small logo of their group at the top of it. 

 

*It's time to rise up! We can no longer stand idle and watch our beloved Great Bear continue to be raped by the resource companies. If you care about saving this island, meet up at the old lodge on the outskirts of Mystery Lake provincial park. Cell service and satphone access is spotty so use the sneakernet! Remember, they're watching, so be careful who you trust.* 

 

He remembered the night they scribbled those words out, drunk and with an unhealthy sense of duty. What was maybe a year or two felt like decades ago.

 

With a sigh, he leaned back into the leather chair, closing his eyes and swimming in his mind through the great lake of memories. 

 

-

 

Singin', "La-ady, you made this earth we walk"

Singin', "La-ady, this sinful life just ain't enough"

So we'll take a stand

'Cause we must protect her land

Keep your rifle by your side

 

-

 

He was back at one of their meetings, sitting close to the main speaker, watching his friend shout with a booming voice at the captivated crowds of young people, with a few old, familiar faces among them. People from towns, who experienced the suffering the companies inflicted, and from the mainland, who sought a change in their lives. A change that the Forest Talkers were eager to provide to those willing.

 

"Brothers and sisters, it was Mother Nature who gave us life, who gave us plenty and beauty. And instead of helping her, what do we do? We tear apart her forests, we kill her children, we think ourselves the rulers! No more! We, the Forest Talkers, we will make a stand! We will turn back the companies from Great Bear, we will show them that they tortured our Mother for far too long."

 

The crowd murmured in approval and agreement, shouts came confirming the words the man said.

His friend spread open his hands, raising them high in the air. The old man could hardly recognize his face, his friend in a frenzy caused by the bitterness, loss, and alcohol.

 

"Away with the bringers of death! Great Bear belongs to Mother Nature!" 

 

A cheer spread across the crowd gathered inside the old lodge, the air full of excitement and pointed drive to a single, clear goal. 

 

Help Mother Nature.

 

-

 

They'll come day and they'll come night

They'll have her forests in their sights

But if they don't have faith, their eyes are blind

They can scream and they can shout

But they can never smoke us out

Keep your rifle by your side

 

-

 

The radio transmission was full of static until one of the people gathered around it turned a little handle just a little bit, and the signal became almost crystal clear. 

 

*...in other news, Coastal Highway is closed for traffic until further notice due to an accident involving one of Breyerhouse logging trucks. According to the reports of the police, the fuel tank of the truck was tampered with, however there are no suspects at the moment. If true, this would be the thirteenth sabotage action against the logging company. Sergeant Hoffman of the RCMP said the following about the incident...*

 

The rest of the transmission was buried under the cheers of the small group, with high fives and fistbumps going around, many also slamming their fists against the tables or the wooden beams in a sign of celebration. 

 

Every day they made progress against the companies. 

At first, they started small, changing signs at certain crossroads, stalling the trucks and other company vehicles. As time went on, they became bolder, slashing open tires, cutting up electrical wiring on company compounds, knocking down log piles, and stealing equipment and supplies. 

 

The old man watched with a smile, happy to see the others in such high spirits. But looking outside the lodge, to the clearing near a small lake, his smile quickly dimmed. 

 

His friend, the same one that held so many speeches of encouragement, now trained people in how to properly handle weapons. Rifles, revolvers, bows, knives. He said it was an important part of life to know how to defend yourself. Some of the members even talked about making a song about it. 

 

The training seemed to be going rather well. The eager members proved good, almost natural shots, and under the tutelage of trappers and hunters of Great Bear, they only grew more proficient. 

 

-

 

Singin', "La-ady, you made this earth we walk"

Singin', "La-ady, this sinful life just ain't enough"

When we hear her voice

We know we have no other choice

Keep your rifle by your side

 

-

 

The spirits were high inside the lodge, and for a good reason. After months of hard work, they managed to get one of the companies to finally pull out. Carter Hydro Energy, which tried to keep their hydro dam near Mystery Lake running despite the issues that erupted from both The Collapse and the seismic activity, bent the knee to the Forest Talkers. They had trapped the skeleton crew inside the dam for days until their demands were met. The dam was now closed, never to be put into action again. 

 

Men and women saw this as a good thing, and they were encouraged by the old man's friend, who grew in the eyes of the Forest Talkers to new heights. 

 

As bottles of beer and wine were opened, people sang and laughed, happy in the belief that they were winning, that things were going the way they were supposed to. Only a rare few noticed that the electric lights dimmed and flickered, with there now being less energy on the island. 

 

The old man only sank deeper into his secluded place in the room, a knife and a piece of wood in his hands instead of a cup of drink. The small carving was coming along nicely and would be done soon. He wondered who would win it in the next week's competition. 

 

-

 

They'll have bombs and they'll have tanks

'Cause they've got sinners in their ranks

But we won't fall as long as we can fight

They'll go on and preach their hate

But they won't get past the gate

Keep your rifle by your side

 

-

 

The old man was riding a horse alongside his friend among fields and greenhouses. He fell ill a few weeks back, and this was his first time outside his room after almost two months. 

 

Forest Talkers, prompted by the scarcity of supplies being brought from the Mainland, resorted to growing their own food, as well as hunting for it in both rivers and forests, but always making sure they respected Mother Nature, never taking too much and always thanking her for the gifts she gave out to the worthy. 

 

The old man now noticed that most people were dressed in similar-looking robes and clothes, rather different from their early days of only having matching balaclavas to hide their identities from the Mounties. Mounties that all abandoned the island, except one. Was it stubbornness or punishment that kept him here, no one knew for sure.

 

Still, they had plenty of work, as his friend said. There were still mines operating, processing plants on the coast, the Blackrock prison... Plenty of work. 

 

The old man didn't know how to answer all this. These kinds of changes were not something he thought about when all of this first started. 

 

-

 

Singin', "La-ady, you made this earth we walk"

Singin', "La-ady, this sinful life just ain't enough"

And when I see her face

I know I must protect her place

I'll keep my rifle by my side

I'll keep my rifle by my side

 

-

 

They sang every morning, that melodic song. Every morning, every evening. Some even used it as prayers in their spare time or on patrols. Many spoke of Mother Nature as if they spoke of a higher being that was too sacred to be mentioned casually. Forest Talkers were no longer the same group. The rag-tag group of activists was bit by bit turned into a force of eco-warriors that seemed to care about the lives of humans less and less as time went on. They cared about each other, sure, but the "outsiders", especially those from the Mainland, were looked down upon with disdain. Though some were kept in higher regard than others, they were still "beneath" them, as they didn't fully embrace the belief of Mother Nature. 

 

The old man looked around the lodge where the electric lights haven't worked in months. He noticed that a few familiar faces were no longer with them. The changes didn't sit the same with everyone, and some people just left. In the eyes of many, they were traitors to the cause, betrayers of Mother Nature herself, and their comeuppance was certain. 

 

Sighing, he looked down at the small wooden charm in his hands, the wood whittled down into a shape of a roaring bear. He no longer wondered who'd win it in the next competition. All he could see of those was making these people better at violence...When did things become so different?

 

-

Keep your rifle by your side

-

 

After the night of the Aurora, or the "First Flare" as many came to call it, all electronics were dead. Cars, flashlights, phones...It affected them little, as the group shifted so much towards living without electricity. But other things changed. 

 

His friend, who everyone saw as a leader both in place and in their hearts, welcomed the change, stating that "Mother Nature showed but a piece of her true power and the sinners were brought lower than any time the Forest Talkers fought!"

 

And now it was time for them to fully cleanse the island for Mother Nature. 

 

The old man continued to stare at the yellowed leaflet, with so many memories roiling inside him, choking him up at the thought of everything that happened. 

 

Thompson's Crossing, Milton, Hibernia Processing, Last Resort Cannery...

 

All these places, already heavily depleted of life since the late days of The Collapse, were now completely abandoned, some people escaping into the woods, while many met their fate at the hands of people he used to call friends. Now all he could see in their eyes was fanatical zeal and belief in their cause. It was scary like few things in life could be.

 

Still, there was hope for a few. Blackrock Penitentiary, Mystery Lake group, Hoffman...

 

The old man chuckled to himself at the thoughts of the sole Mountie. That man was too stubborn to die. And he would make sure what few people remained were kept safe, even if he had to personally kill every Forest Talker. Something he already did several times before, while things were still seemingly normal. 

 

Lately, however, rumors spread, akin to a raging wildfire, of weird newcomers roaming the island. Creatures that walked but looked not like men. Some Talkers spoke of demons, some spoke of those same drinking too much on patrols.

 

A knock on the door brought him up from the depths of his mind. 

 

"Mister Jeremiah sir, I've brought some soup for you if you want." A female voice came from behind the door, sounding sweet and sincere.

 

His stomach growled in agreement, and the man sighed. 

 

"That's very nice of you. Sure, come on in."

 

---

-Somewhere on the outskirts of Thompson's Crossing-

 

A figure dressed in camouflaged combat gear walked among the trees, its eyes darting from side to side, not wanting to miss a single change or movement in its surrounding with which it was blended in almost perfectly.

 

As it stepped out onto a clearing, it saw in the distance the top of a church tower. A perfect place to set up camp.

 

---

-A secluded cave near an unnamed pond-

 

The old bear stirred in its sleep. It wasn't because of the many wounds that were on almost every part of the great beast. It was the hunger. The bear hadn't had a proper meal in a week now, and all it could think about was food. 

 

A particularly strong gust of wind sneaked its way into the cave, brushing over the sleeping giant. An all too familiar scent caught in its nostrils. 

 

At once the bear awoke, nostrils flaring. 

 

It was the smell of humans. Many of them. And they were coming closer. 

 

A growl escaped the animal as it lumbered out of the cave. 

 

Food, its food, was coming to be claimed.

Notes:

First, I apologize for a bit shorter chapter, I thought about whether or not to write about the happening with our main cast, but I decided against it for the "feel".

Speaking of the main cast, what do you think about them?

With that, I wish you all a great start of the week. I'll put in plenty of work in the next chapter, and I'm looking forward to both writing and posting it for you wonderful people!
On a side note, I'd like to recommend the great HB fanfictions "House of Asmodeus", "Backstage", and "Helluva Broken Day"!

Take care and stay awesome!

Chapter 8: 8th

Notes:

Throughout the chapter, you will see different links at different parts. Those lead to songs/music you can listen to during reading for a better experience.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



-/-I-/-

-Old house, Milton- Early morning- 2nd Day-

 

Guy slept like a baby, despite his most recent injury. His body felt like a gallery of experiences, and almost all of the art pieces came from the island. So it was a nice surprise to wake up not feeling any aching, not from his foot, not from his chest. Nothing hurt, and it felt great, like his own body rewarded him for a stroke of luck that was finding other people. 

 

Speaking of other people, he saw Loona curled up on the couch, facing the warm embers of the fireplace. A large woolen blanket covered almost all of her, save for a small bit of her head. 

 

Seeing her sleeping like that, Guy had no intent on waking her up. He instead decided that breakfast was in order, and judging how well the kitchen was stuffed, he might as well show off with something less mundane. 

 

---

 

Octavia woke up from the hazy dream that involved her father, his plants, and a lot of yelling that she couldn't see the source of, but was certain it was a representation of her mother. 

 

She couldn't remember falling asleep or getting under the blankets, but it mattered little to her now. Yesterday was a lot.

 

Rubbing her eyes, she instinctively reached for her phone, only to realize a moment later where she was. Groaning, she put the phone away, looking around the room while stirring under the wool blankets. No one was there, and despite the grime, there was enough light coming through the windows to see without too much issue.

 

A faint scent caught her nostrils. It smelled good, and her stomach agreed, seeing as she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. 

 

Pulling herself out of bed, she stretched out, still irked about the fact she had no music to listen to. But on the bright side, there was no yelling that needed to be blocked out by it. 

 

Jumping over the book pile, she made her way down to the living room. 

Walking down the stairs, the slightly sweet smell of something frying became more apparent, accompanied by the sound of sizzling oil. 

 

Looking to the side, she saw no one in front of the campfire, both Guy and Loona being elsewhere. Having a good idea where they were, she walked into the kitchen. 




Loona sat at the wooden table, reading through what looked like a cookbook, a mug full of steaming liquid next to her. Guy was up and about, whipping up what Octavia assumed to be breakfast. A plate stood next to the large iron stove, a decent amount of unrolled crêpes on top of it, a thin trail of steam rising from them. 




"Oh, good morning Octavia! Nice to see you up and about." Guy said, smiling from his place at the stove, pouring a full ladle of pancake batter into the waiting pan, the liquid hissing as it met the oiled surface. 

 

He was dressed only in a red sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and with much of his clothes taken off, Octavia realized just how thin the man was. In a way, he reminded her of Stolas, although he wasn't  that  slender.

 

"Oh, yeah, good morning," She responded haphazardly once he caught her looking at him, a questioning look on his face. 

 

"You're making breakfast?" Octavia asked, walking closer to take a better look. 

 

"Yea yea, I figured since there's plenty of supplies here, a nice, rich breakfast would be a nice thing for all of us. There are the pancakes," he said, pointing with his shoulder at the plate. "...you can put some peanut butter on 'em, or jam, or whatever else you think would go nicely. There's also water for tea or coffee if you want some." He finished, pointing to his left, where a large cooking pot was full of boiling water.

 

"Oh, cool." The girl said, grabbing one of the mugs and making herself coffee. 

 

"So, Loona here told me those two from your group, Millie and Moxxie, have come back. And right now, you guys don't exactly have a clear plan of finding...wait, who are you looking for again?" Guy turned to Loona, who stirred in her chair. 

 

"It's uhh...two friends, they went ahead of the group but we haven't heard from them since, right Octavia?" Loona answered, looking at the other girl with a glint in her eye. 

 

"Right, yeah, no response," Octavia confirmed, playing along with the story Loona seemed to make up while talking with Guy earlier. Sitting down next to her, she cupped her mug, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. 

 

"Uh-huh. Well, since you don't got a clear idea of where they went, I think that we should go to Mystery Lake, where the rest of my group is at. Once we are all gathered in one place, we can start a search for those two." Guy explained, not noticing anything weird about the answers he got. 

 

Loona thought about the idea, and while she was concerned about the rest of his group, she couldn't argue against it. A small hope she had was that when they go out, she could maybe catch the scent of her father, and then go from there by faking finding some clue to Guy. 

 

"Speaking of two's, I better bring those two upstairs some breakfast. From what you told me, they could definitely use a nice breakfast." The man said, holding two plates full of pancakes, eggs, and bacon in his hands.

 

Loonas eyes widened in panic, and before Guy could leave, she jumped up from her chair and in front of him. 

 

"Oh you don't have to do that, I'll do it!" She said, reaching for the plates and taking them before Guy could object. 

 

If Guy was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he let out a chuckle as he went back to the stove. 

 

---

 

The two imps were hurt and exhausted when they came back, and patching up a few wounds wasn't enough for either to recover. 

After Loona told them about the man they were with, and heated up the tomato soup for them, they went upstairs to rest. 

 

As Loona walked away from their room (Having to make sure they locked their doors in case the human came up unexpectedly), she passed the room Octavia was in, the poor thing passed out on the bed. 

 

Stepping over the pile of books, she nudged the younger girl under the blankets, making sure she was comfortable as she slept. One small voice in her head ridiculed her empathy, stating how she shouldn't care. But she did care, at least when no one was looking. 

 

---

 

Knocking on the doors of their room, she shifted on her legs as she waited. The human form began to prickle ever since she woke up, and she knew she'll have to bring it down, at least for a few moments. A click of the lock brought her to attention, followed by the creaking of doors. Millie stared up at her, rubbing her sleepy eyes. 

 

"Can I come in?" Loona asked. Millie looked at her, then at the two steaming plates, and opened the doors more, stepping to the side while mumbling a confirmation. 

 

Entering the room, Loona set the plates on a nearby trunk, then pulled it close to the edge of the bed for the imps. Moxxie was still fast asleep, and it seemed Millie was more interested in sleeping than eating too. She crawled back into the bed that was rather large for the pair, sneaking her arms under the blankets and around her husband, to which he instinctively moved closer to her, giving off a quiet purr.

 

Stepping to a window in the corner of the room, Loona took a deep breath. Raising her hands up, she focused on the enchantment. Light blue flames started to trickle out from her fingertips and circle around her hands, which she started to lower at her sides. 

 

She could feel the magic withering away as her true form revealed itself, giving her a sense of relief as the changes took effect. She had to quickly pull her tail out, and take off her boots even faster, cursing at herself for not thinking ahead. Luckily none of the clothes or the footwear got damaged, and the hellhound could relax, at least for a little bit. 

 

---

 

"This is really good, that Guy guy sure knows how to cook," Millie said, cutting another piece of bacon and putting it on the fork alongside a bit of pancake. 

 

It hadn't taken imps long to be brought out of their little love nest by the smell of bacon, and it took them even less time to eat it all up, their tails intertwined the whole time. While they ate, Loona talked while pacing around the room. In that way, she reminded herself of Blitz, in the way that she paced around and talked just like he used to. 

 

"So you don't want to go with him because you don't trust his group?" Moxxie asked, looking up from his plate. 

 

"It's not just that, I don't think Blitz went the same way he came from. I was hoping I would catch a scent when we get out, and make up a clue so that Guy either comes with or doesn't bother us." Loona talked, explaining her current plan. It wasn't the best, but when was the time any of their plans were good?

 

"You sure the four of us could find the boss and the prince by ourselves?" Millie now asked, playing with her knife in one hand while holding the fork in the other. 

 

Loona didn't answer outright, instead giving a loud exhale. 

 

"Shit, I-I don't know. I got no idea how big this place is, and we don't even know how long they've been here! I-I...I just don't know." She admitted, sounding defeated. 

 

"Oh don't worry about it sweetie, we'll find 'em eventually. Besides, they're tough, your dad and his boyfriend. I'm sure they're enjoying breakfast somewhere like us just now!" Millie comforted her, to which Loona could only weakly smile. 

 

"While we're on the topic of ideas, do we have any regarding how we'll deal with this...Guy guy? I mean, he doesn't know who we are, and he only saw you and the princess in your human form." Moxxie said, finished with his breakfast. He looked much better than yesterday, color returning to his skin, and his eyes giving off an energetic look. 

 

The question was solid, Loona thought. There was no way to pass the little imps as humans, or children (She felt that passing them off as children would be an especially bad move), and she was rather sure that Guy wouldn't accept them as they are. At least not in a friendly manner. 

 

With all the talk of the man, it seemed to have summoned him, as she picked up steps creaking along the wooden floor towards their room. 

 

"Hey Loona, I got some coffee here if they would want some..." Guy said behind the doors, which started opening in the next moment. 

 

For the second time this morning, Loona was met with panic, and just as the first time, she leaped from her place, slamming the doors shut, resulting in a surprised yell from the other side. 

 

"HEY WHAT THE HELL DUDE, EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?!" She yelled out, leaning against the door while the imps looked on from their place on the bed. 

 

"Ah, sorry sorry, my bad. If anyone of you is indecent inside, it's all good. I'll just leave the thermos here by the door, okay?" Guy said from the other side, his voice sounding like his nose was blocked. 

 

"Yes, please, just don't come in, jeez." Loona talked back, her voice still sounding angry and dismissive. 

 

"Also, I suggest you look around the rooms up here for stuff like backpacks and such, we'll gonna take the supplies here with us," Guy said, followed by his footsteps trailing away from the door. 

 

Slumping to the floor, Loona cupped her face, letting out a frustrated growl. That was damn too close! They won't keep getting lucky like that. 

 

"Oh, would you look at that." Millie said, to which Loona raised her head up to see what the girl was talking about. 

 

The imps had opened the trunk on which they ate, the plates now placed behind them on the bed. 

 

And inside were just the things they needed!

 

---

 

"And you're sure this will work?" Octavia asked, adjusting the straps of the backpack that was almost half her size. Millie and Moxxie were wrapping themselves in what little clothes fit them, mostly scarves and toques. 

 

"I mean, it's best if we stick together, and this is the best way I can think of." Loona said, looking down at her own backpack. 

 

Inside the trunk, they found two large hiking backpacks, as well as plenty of clothes. And once Loona saw it, a memory popped into her head, bringing her back to when Millie and she stormed the D.H.O.R.K.S building for the dumbass twins (Those being Blitz and Moxxie).

 

Since the imps were so small, they could just put them inside the backpacks and carry them like that! Then make up a story about how they will catch up with the rest of the group after they sort out some issues. 

 

And wouldn't you know it, the plan worked! Guy didn't argue with her about sticking together, and then promptly left first, saying how he'll "keep a watch outside" while they pack up. 

 

So now they were down in the kitchen, packing the stuff Guy piled from the shelves and onto the table into their backpacks. There were cans, water and juice bottles, packages of beef jerky, soda cans, some utensils and tin cups, matches, road flares (one for each of them), as well as a hunting knife. The blade was sharp and well-kept, and the handle felt firm in Loona's hand. 

 

With so much stuff, it was a tight fit for the little imps, but they managed to make themselves comfortable within the backpacks. That way they dealt with not only the problem of staying together, but also the problem of cold weather for them, and watching each other's backs (Quite literally).

 

Both Loona and Octavia had a bit of trouble carrying all that weight, Octavia almost falling back onto the backpack, and then almost getting pinned under it before they sorted out the right place for the heaviest items. Moxxie kept apologizing to the princess out of the backpack, his cheeks red from embarrassment as much as Octavias were from the weight on her shoulders. Finally, with their united effort (as well as several juicy, well-chosen swears and curses), they managed to strike a balance that wouldn't tip with a sudden gust of wind. 

 

"All good?" Loona asked, to which Octavia only nodded. With an encouraging smile, she opened the front door, letting in the cold wind. It danced and clung to their ankles as they stepped into the frozen outdoors.

 

---

 

The small group of three (five) walked along the snow-covered main road of the quiet town, Guy leading forward, Loona at the back, and Octavia in the middle. Not wanting to take any chances, the man had his revolver in hand and urged the girls to keep their eyes and ears peeled for any noises that weren't the whisperings of the winds.

 

Octavia had to put a lot of effort into walking, not only because of the weight she was carrying but also because of the cold she wasn't used to. 

Despite the wool mittens, her fingers drained of all warmth, forcing her to constantly squeeze her firsts and rub them together. 

Despite the wool scarf, her face stung whenever the wind would pass over it, her eyes watery. 

 

Loona endured the cold too, clutching to her shoulders. The air smelled of many a thing, but not a trace of her father. 

 

Snow, rotting wood, blood, wolves...such a strong smell of wolves. But they weren't near. 




The houses on both sides of the street were in bad shape. What little of them weren't collapsed in on themselves were bolted down tight with planks on all windows and doors, the snow piled onto the porches and the roofs. And it just kept falling down.

 

The trio walked under the large wooden ranch gates that stood at the exit of the town. Why they were there, no one could say, nor did they care. The gas station was right in front of them, and despite the trip being rather short, they needed a break. 




As they shut the doors behind them, the girls could only shudder, finally away from the constant wind. 

 

"So...cold..." Was all Octavia mustered as she slumped against the wall, a faint groan of discomfort coming from her backpack, which was only audible to her.

 

"You girls alright?" Guy asked as he neared a shelf on which he left all of the supplies from last time.

 

"Yeah yeah, just a bit heavy with all these cans and stuff." Loona panted out, her hands on her knees. Shit, was she really that out of shape? When she and the others were killing those D.H.O.R.K.S. agents, it felt like a breeze. Damn, she won't be able to shit on Moxxie about exercise anymore. No no, it was definitely just the heavy-ass backpack with Millie sitting inside it. 

 

Reaching out, she helped Octavia up from her space against the wall, only to see Guy stuffing even more stuff inside his backpack, which seemed like it would burst if he placed even a single match inside it. 

 

"Sorry to load you with so much stuff, if we had the sled it would be much easier. But don't worry, it's only a short trek through the caves down to the cabin once we go past the ropes. 

 

"Wait, ropes? What ropes?" Loona perked up, unsure of what the man was talking about. 

 

"Well, there are two climbing spots that we gotta climb down and then up to reach the cave entrance. But don't worry, with the three of us, we'll help each other with the climbing."

 

The girls only looked at each other, unsure if they'll live through this experience. 

 

Loona swore how she'll kick Blitz in his dumb ass when she finds him, and Octavia thought of strangling her father for being such a dumbass. 

 

Meanwhile, both Millie and Moxxie shared the same thoughts of being a sardine stuck in a can, or in their case an imp stuck with cans.

 

---

 

"You sure they'll be able to track behind us?" Guy asked as the group traveled the same way he did yesterday. Despite the injury, it was better than expected. He barely felt it any time he pressed onto the injured foot. 

 

*Guess I got used to taking worse wounds so this ain't such a big deal, heh.*

 

"Yeah, they're good at that, trust me," Loona said behind him, and he had to take her word for it. 

 

Finally, they reached the first climb. The thick mountaineering rope was tightly wrapped around a rock protruding out from the snow, snaking down the nigh vertical cliff down to the bottom. 




"Right, first the backpacks," Guy said as he took his off, tossing it to the side as he grabbed the rope with both hands and began to pull up. 

 

They would tie the backpacks to the end of the rope, and then slide them slowly down to the bottom, after which they would climb down with them. An easy, if a bit time-consuming method. Still, it was better than climbing with all that gear on your back. I mean, what idiot would do something like that to themselves?

 

Sliding down the load was easy, especially with all three of them holding the rope. Now it was time for them to climb down themselves. 

 

"Right, look here. Grab the rope with both hands, and stick it between your legs like so. Then slide down nice and slow, and make sure you keep your grip firm. We got no protection equipment, so this is the best we can do." Guy explained in short detail the basics, hoping that it would be enough for both of the girls. 

 

Loona went first, going down faster than Guy expected. She made it to the bottom, giving them both a thumbs up. 

 

Octavia gripped the rope in her hands, a slight tremble going through them. 

 

"Hey, you alright?" Guy asked, coming closer to the girl. 

 

"Y-yeah, just a bit cold is all..." She responded. 

 

"Oh, well you should warm up a bit in that case. Try rubbing your hands like this, and move around some. Worst thing you can do in a place like this is stand still. Body needs to move if it wants to stay warm." Guy talked, showing the movements which she copied after him. After a few moments of warming up, accompanied by Guy encouraging her that climbing down the rope was not a big deal and that she had it in the bag, Octavia was ready to go. Gripping the rope, she started sliding down, stopping every so often, then continuing down. She'd occasionally look back up, and Guy smiled back at her, yelling how she was doing great. 

 

On the last two meters of the rope, however, her hands began to tremble. She tried to hold tight, but it didn't matter. The muscles ached, and in the next moment, she faltered, slipping down the rope. 

 

A scream escaped her as she plummeted down, cut short by the impact. Except it didn't hurt. Well, not how she expected it. 

 

Opening her eyes, she saw Loona holding her bridal style, kneeling down on the snow. 

 

"Hey, you okay?" The older girl asked her, worry in her voice and on her face. Octavia, noticing the distance between them, blushed and nodded in confirmation. Loona continued to stare, her red eyes unblinking. Why did Octavia feel warm all of a sudden?

 

A voice from high above cut the moment, causing Loona to snap her head up, then back down. As if realizing what and how they were, she dropped the other girl ass first in the snow, standing up and walking away. 

 

Meanwhile, Guy was almost sliding down the rope. 

 

---

 

The next rope was a short walk away. When they came up to it, Octavia gulped in worry. It sure was a climb and a half. 




This time, Guy would go first, then he would help up Loona, after which they will pull the backpacks up, and lastly Octavia. When asked why won't they pull the backpacks up last, Guy explained it was so that, in case any or all fall off, no one has to make a climb twice. The last person down, in this case, Octavia, would simply attach them back to the rope.

 

As Guy climbed, he could feel the burn in his limbs, his fingers slowly growing numb as he pulled himself up the rope. He tried to find what footing he could on the cliff, but with little success. Without any special equipment, it was a tough climb, and it wasn't even a long one. He felt his energy draining with every moment he spent on this rope, and that only kept him climbing. Reaching the top, he pulled himself over the edge. 

 

While Guy was climbing, Loona and Octavia tried to overcome the weird silence that seemed to loom over them. Checking up on the imp pair hiding in the backpacks, they breathed a sigh of relief when both turned out to be doing good and warm, the only minor issue being the tightness of space. 

 

Guy hailed from above, signaling that it was Loona's turn on the rope. Gripping it firmly, she began the climb, slowly making her way up the cliff. Octavia stared up as Loona climbed, her mind replaying their short exchange right after her fall. 

 

What was that? Did she suddenly get a fever or something? Octavia didn't like it when she didn't understand something, and not understanding this made her scoff at herself, crossing her arms. 

 

"Hey, Octavia, we're pulling the backpacks up, look out!" Guy shouted the warning from above as they pulled the tied-up backpacks. 

 

As the two of them were busy with those, Octavia looked around, shifting from leg to leg, always moving at least a little bit, as Guy advised. 

 

She looked out to the lakes that sprawled far down below them, a constantly shifting veil of snowflakes making it hard to see clearly. Still, even with the veil, it was a nice view. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. 

 

With the backpacks safely up, it was Octavia's turn. From above, Guy and Loona shouted for her to tie the rope around herself, and they'll pull her up. Thinking back to how difficult climbing down was, she didn't want to imagine how climbing up would be. 

 

Tying the rope around her waist and shoulders, she gripped it with both hands and hailed that she was ready. In the next moment, she felt being pulled up, her boots leaving the ground, Octavia instinctively propping them against the cliff. They would pull her up some, then stop, then pull her up some more. As she went higher and higher, the wind kept breezing around her, making her shudder as she pressed closer to the lifeline that was the mountaineering rope. 

 

As she neared the top, she could see Guy and Loona coming into view, their faces showing the strain they were under. They tightly held to the rope, pulling it up bit by bit.

 

Guy kept pulling, his hands shaky. He could feel sweat dripping down his sideburns, his calves burning up. Just a little bit more, and...

 

At that moment, right as Octavia was reaching for the edge of the cliff, a strong tremor passed through the ground, causing both Guy and Loona to stumble on their footing. As soon as they weren't solidly standing anymore, the rope suddenly felt ten times heavier, and it pulled back, gravity pulling Octavia down. Her fingers dug into the snow, but it was not enough. 

 

Octavia slipped down, the heavy rope no longer a lifeline but a deadly weight around her, dragging her down to the bottom. She let out a scream of pure terror, her eyes flaring up. In the next moment, she was falling, her hands reaching for something to hold on to, but only grasping air. 

 

Guy leaped forward as far as he could, slamming against the rocky edge of the cliff, pain flaring through his chest as the ribs met with hard rock beneath the snow. His hands barely managed to clasp down around Octavia's wrist, pressing with such savage strength that she let out a wince of pain. He couldn't speak, putting all effort into not letting go. 

 

Loona regained her footing, terror on her face as she heard Octavia scream and Guy sprawled at the edge of the cliff. She jumped next to him, seeing that Octavia hadn't fallen to her demise. The spark of relief was quickly washed away as she let out a cry. 

 

"I'm slipping!" She cried out, still tangled in the ropes. Despite Guy's vice-like grip, he couldn't hold it forever. Panicking, Loona stood back up, looking around at what she could do.  

 

"THE ROPE!" Guy cried out, his voice loud but strained. Loona looked down and realized what he meant. 

 

She took the rope that lay in the snow, quickly wrapping it around the stone until it was tense. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the imps stumbling out of the backpacks, motioning to her to keep quiet and to go help out. 

 

Lying down next to Guy, she reached with her hands down towards Octavia. 

 

"Give me your other hand Via, come on!" The older girl yelled out, trying not to let the panic sound in her voice. 

 

With a grunt, Octavia reached up as far as she could, barely enough. Loona grabbed her by the hand, and both started to pull. Bit by bit, they managed to pull her higher, until Guy spoke. 

 

"Give me her other hand, you'll need to pull us up from behind." He said in a hurried tone that left no room for argument. Loona let out a confirming grunt. 

 

As she scampered to her feet, she saw the imps trying to pull on the rope, but with little success. Motioning at Guy's legs, she gripped at one, while the imps gripped the other. 

 

"Okay, pull!" Guy shouted, and the trio started to pull. A grunt escaped Guy as he was dragged across the uneven rocks. 

 

"That's good that's good, now come here!" He yelled out again, Loona immediately jumping to his side. Octavia was now close enough for them to pick her up by the rope that was tied around her. Loona grabbed at the thick lines, pulling up the younger girl up 

 

Imps pulled the rope back just a little bit more, before deciding it was enough to work. Scampering away out of sight, they wiped their feet before hiding inside the backpacks once again. 

 

Finally, they pulled her up from the edge, moving her away from the cliff. As she knelt down on the ground, Guy and Loona leaned down to check on her. Before they could react, Octavia wrapped her hands around Loona, a silent sob escaping her as she buried her face in her jacket. Loona returned the touch, hugging her tightly without thinking. 

 

"There there, it's all okay now. You will be okay." Guy comforted her, tapping her on the shoulder. 

 

--II--

-Inside the camp office- Afternoon- 1st Day-
(https://youtu.be/VFz5n8pCkOU)

 

Two blinding, deafening shots rang out. Both Rudy and Ollie had to close their eyes, at least for a moment. 

 

Just as the ringing in their ears died down, a piercing shriek of terror sounded through the cabin, rattling the windows and sending chills down their spines.

 

In the next moment, the fence that was on the upstairs floor smashed against the wooden wall, torn off by savage force. Dark red mist seeped from above, and the whole room seemed to grow warmer than before. 

 

A large... thing ... jump down from above, landing behind the counter, causing the floorboards to crack and splinter. It looked like it was on fire, or rather like it  was  the fire!

 

In terror the two men stepped back, unsure of what they were looking at. 

 

It was a monstrously large creature that resembled a man in stature, but its face was nothing like any man they ever saw. Glowing, sickly green eyes sat inside a dark head around which a crimson red mane of flames burned so hot it was hard to look at. Two smaller heads sat on both sides, their faces just as angry as the main one. 

 

Two small holes were barely visible on the thing's body, a slight trickle of dark liquid oozing from each.

 

"YOU DARE ATTACK THE KING OF LUST!?" It shouted, stepping forward, closing the distance fast with each large step. 

 

A scream tore from Ollie's throat, full of terror. The man dropped the revolver and turned around, jumping through a closed window outside. The breaking of glass was followed by the shrill wind that flooded the inside of the building the next moment, causing Fred to shiver from the cold. 

 

Taking another step back, he turned to jump through the same window, but before he could do it the creature threw a potbelly stove at him. He barely managed to duck as the object smashed against the window, breaking away what little glass still stood in the frame. 

 

"WHERE'S THE BRAVERY YOU HAD MOMENTS AGO?!" It shouted again, coming closer and closer, leaning down to fit under the ceiling. Fred couldn't talk, he couldn't think. All his training, all his experience, all was gone, replaced by one singular word. 

 

RUN

 

Scampering, he jumped across the counter to his right, tripping and falling face first to the floor. A wet crack sounded, and he knew it was his nose. 

 

Get out. He had to get out. The back door was right there. He reached with his hands, pulling himself forward, bit by bit. 

 

He was pulled back by his prosthesis, the power behind it too strong to fight. 

 

"N-no, no no no no..." Was all Fred yelled out as he gripped for whatever he could, resisting as best as he could. 

 

The pull shifted, instead of dragging him across the floor, it now lifted him upside down. The monster looked down at him, piercing him with his eyes. It extended its arm, preparing to strike. 

 

Before it could do so, a courageous scream filled the room, and in the next moment, the monster shrieked in pain, dropping Fred to the ground. It slammed against the nearby wall, leaning against it for balance, drawing labored breaths.

 

As droplets of blood stained the floorboards beneath him, Fred pulled himself up from the ground, wiping the trickle of blood coming from his nose, looking up to see what happened. 

 

It was Ollie! He barged through the front door and charged the monster, impaling one of the spears into its side. His face was covered in cuts from the glass, many of them bleeding and forming a thin cage of bloodlines across his face. 

 

"OZZIE!" Another voice shouted, loud and grating. In the next moment, Ollie was struck away by another thing, much smaller though equally horrifying. 

 

A crimson-red head sported two round stumps, one black and one white, both looking like they have been cut off. Lime green eyes with pink irises radiated with both anger and panic. The mouth was lined with sharp, pointed teeth. Long, thin jet black limbs snaked outwards, whirring with every little movement. A red tail with black stripes whipped behind it, looking like it could kill.

 

 The fact the thing was dressed in a sweater didn't seem to dampen the terrifying look. 

 

Ollie twitched on the ground, before the smaller thing extended its hands to him, pulling him closer, anger written over its face. 

 

Without thinking, Fred reached for a nearby chair, chucking it towards the monster, which didn't notice it before it was too late. The chair met its face with an ugly sound of wood hitting flesh, causing it to drop Ollie from its grip. As the two monsters struggled with their injuries, Fred leaped across the counter once again, this time managing to land correctly. Grabbing Ollie by the shoulders, he pulled him out of the cabin, managing to snatch his rifle from the ground as well. 

 

---

 

They took their backpacks, leaving the sled behind. Ollie took the other spear, while Fred held onto his rifle. The two ran away from the cabin, towards the frozen lake. Heavy fog settled down onto the region as the pair disappeared in the mist, not looking back at the madness they left behind. 

 

The footprints in the snow were adorned with blood stains, barely noticeable. They were the only thing that followed the pair as they crossed onto the thick ice of the lake, disappearing out of sight.

 

-//-III-//-

-Pleasant Valley homestead-Noon-2nd Day-

 

 

"Once that was all said and done, I..." Stolas stopped for a moment, discomfort written over his face. Morten didn't push him, though he was interested in the story, as was evident with him leaning over the table, head propped on his hands, staring directly at the two pairs of crimson red eyes.

 

By now, what the prince told him sounded like something straight out of a slice-of-life yet over-the-top fantasy YouTube series, but he believed every word of it. 

 

The prince, at first unsure where exactly should he start, decided it would be best if he did so at the beginning. After all, there was a lot that he needed to tell in order to paint the full picture. 

 

So he talked. About his first time meeting Blitz in a circus, and then how they spent the day together. Then about how they met for the first time after so many years, going into details of... passionate fornication a bit too much for Morten's taste (He later on made it clear those details aren't as important to the story, to which the prince agreed, seemingly embarrassed at the fact he talked so openly about it without realizing.)

 

From there, it went over their monthly agreement, an amusement park "Loo Loo Land" (Which Stolas mentioned was a rip-off of another amusement park, that was also in Hell mind you) where he also mentioned his daughter Octavia. Then something about a harvest moon festival, busting Blitz out of a sticky situation with some kooks, and lastly, the date that went sour. Here the prince seemed to tense up and clamp up, and Morten assured him that he could skip what he deemed too personal. 

 

"I had to make a choice. And for that, I needed to speak with Blitz. Alone, in private." The owl demon continued, snaking one of his fingers around the edge of his cup. 

 

"To do that, I decided it would be best to do so somewhere here, away from anyone who might trouble us. The thing is, I didn't expect the portal would lead to...an island, correct?" He asked, looking away from some fixed point back to Morten, who slowly nodded in confirmation. 

 

"Great Bear, northern Canada. Lives up to its name every day."

 

"Right, thank you. I expected...well, somewhere peaceful, and that's what we got. But right as we stepped through the portal, the sky lit up, the Aurora dancing across it. And as it did, I felt my powers...tearing away!"

 

"Powers?" Morten asked, scratching at his stubble. Dammit, he missed shaving...

 

"Yes, powers. Telekinesis and some others, but that's not really important now. The important part is that, without my powers, I can't open the portal back to Hell! So we've been stuck here for a week without a way out." 

 

Morten hummed at the explanation, cogs turning in his mind as he pieced together things to see if they went correct. Then again, he doubted the prince would lie. This wasn't some court talk, no reason to sugarcoat or twist words.

 

A week ago there was indeed another Aurora, though not as wild as that first one. Lights went crazy, and they could even get some music through an old radio that was inside the cabin, but trying to use the phones was futile, as all the connections were too scrambled to be useful within the little time frame that they had. 

 

---

 

Stolas tapped his fingers against the wooden table, lost in his own thoughts. This week was indeed a lot, but at least he wasn't as lost now as he was at the start of it. 

 

Thinking back to the moment he no longer felt the connection to the ancient arcane magic, he wondered what has happened. But no explanation came to mind, until now. The Aurora had something to do with it. The polar lights usually did little more than float in the night sky, making the commoners gasp in excitement as they stared up at it.

 

So what could have caused the change? Truly a fascinating subject, one that he wanted to look into when he got back home, and after he sorts his life out. 

 

His life...he could sum it up to just two persons. His daughter Octavia, his little Starfire. And Blitz, his... he didn't even want to think the word. Not after  that  night.

 

*"Stolas don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay, you make that really clear all the time."*

 

Even now those words stung like knives to his chest. And looking back, he had to agree, as much as he himself knew that there was more to it. 

 

"So during all that time, you two hadn't talked about whatever it is you came here about in the first place?" Morten asked him. 

 

Looking up from his half-empty cup, Stolas shyly smiled. 

 

"No. We haven't talked much at all, frankly..." He muttered out, trying to occupy himself by taking another sip of the warm liquid. It had barely any sugar in it and no milk, tasting bitter and intense. Yet it was warm, and he welcomed any escape from his cloudy thoughts, even if it wasn't tasty. 

 

"Mhm." Was all Morten responded with, relaxing his shoulders and slumping back to his chair, one of his hands scratching at his chin. 

 

"Well, it's not my place to say, but talking is indeed important in any and all relationships. The less people talk, the more they make up things in their own head, and that tends to lead to a warped outlook on the situation." He finally answered, taking a sip from his cup before continuing. 

 

"And in a place like this, it's important to keep a clear head and lay out the cards on the table."

 

Stolas only nodded at the words, thinking over them and agreeing with what was spoken. 

 

Blitz and he needed to talk. Clear any misunderstandings between them, and get to the bottom of the thing...

 

"Speaking of this place, you guys checked it out?" Morten asked. 

 

"Mmh...no, I don't think Blitz did. I fell asleep as soon as we came here. Why, what's wrong?" 

 

"Nothin's wrong, just wanting to know if the place has been searched or not. People left plenty of stuff behind, and I reckon this place ain't any different...wanna take a look?" Morten asked, getting up from his chair. 

 

For a moment, the owl demon pondered, then shrugged his shoulders. 

 

"I suppose there is nothing better to do. Right, lead on."

 

The two walked out of the kitchen and towards the rest of the house. The first door Morten tried, which he assumed was to the basement, was locked. 

 

"Pff, you can't be serious..." He said as he tried to force the lock, but it didn't budge. 

 

"Maybe there's a key somewhere around..." Stolas said as he walked away, all eyes open in search of anything looking remotely like a key. He found it soon enough in a bowl that stood on top of a shelf. What a weird place to keep keys.

 

"Ah, there we go!" He exclaimed excitedly, turning around only to be met with a loud sound of crashing wood. 

 

Morten rushed and jumped at the door, making a hole with his foot, on which it of course got stuck, so he was sort of half-lying down, half-hanging from the doors. 

 

The whole scene looked unexplainably hilarious to Stolas, and he let out a genuine laugh, something he hadn't done in a long time. Meanwhile, Morten let out an exhale, crossing his arms in a mock display of offense, still half-lying on the floor. 

 

"I'm glad to see my embarrassment is something to laugh about your highness." He said in a fakely hurt tone, to which the prince only smiled more. How silly these humans were sometimes.

 

"I'm sorry, it's just that I hadn't expected something so..."

 

"Stupid?" 

 

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that." Stolas agreed with a chuckle. 

 

"Well, if it worked, then it won't be stupid," Morten said, dislodging his foot from the hole and getting up on his knees. Trying the lock from the other side, he sighed in defeat, "Okay, yeah, it was stupid, no doubt about it now." 

 

Stolas was glad he met Morten. 

 

---

 

"Do you see anything?" Morten asked, cleaning a small cobweb in front of him. 

 

"Barely, it's pretty dark in here." Stolas answered, leaning down so as not to hit his head on the ceiling. 

 

"Wait, hold on, I got a lantern, be right back." 

 

Coming back, Morten lit up the dark space with the shifting flame that jumped and twisted inside its protective glass shell. The dancing shadows moved across the walls as a myriad of boxes, both cardboard and wooden, became visible. There were also metal shelves and wooden barrels at the other end of the basement, which seemed to be a true treasure trove. 

 

"Well, let's see what's inside the boxes. You check those ones." Morten pointed to one side as he hung the lantern on a small hook on the ceiling.

 

Opening one of the cardboard boxes, Morten didn't find anything interesting. Just a bunch of old, worn-out clothes. 

 

*Bah, if this is all that's in the boxes, this sure will be fun...*  He thought sarcastically, stepping up to another box. 

 

Opening this one, he was met with two cases. Now there was something more interesting than clothes. Pulling out one of the cases, he realized it was a guitar case. Opening it, he found a fully intact acoustic guitar inside, strings and all.

 

Letting out a surprised whistle, he took it out, looking over it for any damages. Nope, it was without a single dent or bruise. Strumming over the strings, he filled the basement with a nice sound, making Stolas turn to see what was going on. 

 

"Haa, haven't played one in a while. I'll leave it for later." Morten said, placing the guitar back into the case, and then placing the next to the staircase leading up. 

 

The second case was much smaller, and the man could guess with certainty what was in this one. 

 

A violin, bit worn out on the edges, but with strings and the body still intact! 

 

"Oh man, Rudy is gonna go crazy when he sees this." Morten smiled, turning to Stolas, who observed the man in silence. 

 

"We played often, sometimes in pubs. Who knows, maybe we could make a show for you two. Two minstrels for his highness." Morten joked, putting on a faux-medieval tone while bowing down to the owl demon, who chuckled at the presentation. 

 

"Oh, we're not so old-fashioned down there, but a bit of music would be nice I must admit." 

 

"Yeah, and it would be even better if we had something to drink with it." Morten replied, putting the violin back into the case. 

 

A solution to that particular issue provided itself a few moments later, with Stolas opening a wooden crate, finding it full of straw. Brushing some of it away, he revealed rows of bottles neatly placed next to eachother. 

 

Taking one out, he looked around the exterior of the bottle, finding no markings or labels. 

 

"Morten, could you come check this?" Stolas asked, showing off the bottle in his hand. 

 

Morten walked over, grabbing the bottle, inspecting it. After a few moments, he looked up. 

 

"Well, it looks like a bottle of booze, but just to be safe..." He said, opening the cap, and taking a whiff. After a moment of thinking about whether or not it was alcohol, he took a slight sip.

 

"Yup, that's some high-quality stuff. Either this is some top-shelf booze, or someone ran a helluva distillery on the island." Morten said, smacking his lips. 

 

---

 

It was around mid-afternoon that Blitz and Rudy returned from outside, both pale from the cold, small clouds of steam following them as they waddled inside the kitchen. 

 

Morten and Stolas sat at the table, both crimson in their faces. With Stolas it was rather easy to notice, his usually pale white face a dead giveaway to whenever he flustered, blushed, or drank.

 

"Where'd you get that?" Rudy asked, nudging the small crate full of bottles that the two lugged up the stairs. 

 

"Oh that? Oh we got it from the basement, marvelous stuff. Come on, give it a taste!" Morten offered, his voice full of vigor and excitement as he poured a shot glass for his friend. "You want one too Blitz?" He asked excitedly, to which the imp nodded enthusiastically. 

 

"Sure, anything to kick this cold off of me." He said, taking the shot glass and downing it in one gulp, slamming it back down onto the table, much to the surprise of Morten, who let out a laugh at it. 

 

For a moment, Blitz felt nothing, and then suddenly his throat began to burn like he swallowed hot coals and doused them with gasoline. He coughed, grasping at his throat. 

 

"God shit, what the fuck is this?!" He yelled out, to which Morten laughed out loud, slamming his hand against the table. Rudy meanwhile took a small sip from his glass. 

 

"That, Blitz, is some mighty fine homemade hooch. I didn't think you'd down it like that, stuff is like molten lava on the way down." 

 

Blitz, who has been on many a wild, drunken benders throughout his life, was now gasping for breath as his legs shook, causing Stolas to lean close to him, concern on his face. 

 

"Blitz, are you alright?" He asked. 

 

"N-never b-better." Blitz answered, faking a wide smile as his eyes began to water. Whatever this shit was, it felt like death. 

 

In the next moment, his knees buckled, and he fell to the side. Before he could hit the ground, Stolas caught him, pulling him up into his lap. Both could only blush at the interaction as Morten pulled Rudy to the side to show him what else he found in the basement. 

 

As he opened the case, Rudy's eyes lit up, and he grabbed the violin before Morten fully opened the case. 

 

"Ha, I knew you'd like it," Morten exclaimed, taking another sip from his glass before pulling the guitar up from beside him, propping it up on his knees, leaning down to tune in the strings. 

 

Rudy didn't answer, instead running his fingers over the exterior of the instrument, strumming at the strings, giving the back a gentle knock. 

 

Reaching for the bow, he pressed it against the strings, pulling it slowly, letting out a slow tone from the instrument.

 

---

 

With the instruments tuned up, both Rudy and Morten were itching to give them a go. But what could they play? 

 

While the two men pondered, throwing out ideas to each other, Stolas looked down at Blitz, who calmed down after downing his first drink so quickly. 

 

"Are you alright?" He asked in a quiet tone, causing Blitz to tense up, surprised by the closeness of the prince. Looking up, their eyes met, if just for a moment. 

 

"I'm fine Stolas." He answered, weakly brushing his arm away, which the prince held on his shoulder up until then. 

 

Thinking back to his talk with Morten, Stolas took a deep breath, gulping down the growing ball of discomfort and fear that threatened to choke him. Taking another sip from his shot glass, he exhaled. 

 

"Blitz, I...I think we need to talk." He sputtered out, words silently slipping out so that only the two of them could hear it. 

 

For a moment, the imp didn't answer. Then he shook his head, as much as his position allowed. 

 

"I said I'm fine Stolas, you don't have to make a big deal about it. "

 

"No...I wasn't talking about that. I think we should talk about...us." 

 

Blitz stared at the two pairs of red eyes, his mouth clenched shut. Before he could talk, the prince continued, lowering his head down even closer to the imp. 

 

"Please...we...I need this. To know what we are...Please Blitz."

 

The imp only continued to stare, opening his mouth to speak, but then closing it back again. Turmoil was obvious on his face, and the only thing Stolas could think of doing to help was to hug him closer, keeping quiet to let him think in peace. 

 

"Fellas, would you like an amateur performance for our joint enjoyment?"

 

---

 

Finally, Morten and Rudy managed to agree on a song. With their instruments tuned, their cheeks properly red from the drink, and their audience drinking while sitting next to each other on a bench they dragged from another room, they were ready.

 

( https://youtu.be/u56R_qHTLVI ) 

 

I'll tell you a story that happened to me 

One day as I went down to Youghal by the Sea 

The sun it was bright and the day it was warm 

Says I, "A quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm"

 

Rudy sang as his bow glided across the string.

 

I went to the barman, I says, "Give me a stout" 

Says the barman, "I'm sorry all the beer tis sold out 

Try whiskey or vodka, ten years in the wood" 

Says I, "I'll try cider, I heard that it's good"

 

Morten joined in as his hand strummed the chords.

 

Oh never, oh never, oh never again 

If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten 

I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up 

After drinking a pint of the Johnny Jump Up 

 

Both the imp and the owl caught themselves nodding along with the rhythm, taking another sip from the glasses, the drink now going down without a hitch. They felt warmer with every moment, and the fire in the nearby stove had nothing to do with it. 

 

After lowering the third I headed straight for the yard 

Where I bumped into Brophy the big civic guard 

"Come here to me boy, don't you know we're in the law" 

Well I upped with my fist and I shattered his jaw

 

He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up 

T'wasnt I hit him t'was the johnny jump up

And the next thing I met down in Youghal by the Sea 

Was a cripple on crutches, and says he to me

 

"I'm afraid of me life I'll be hit by a car 

Would you help me across to the Railwayman's Bar" 

And after three pints of that cider so sweet 

He threw down his crutches and he danced on his feet

 

More drink they poured into their glasses, growing fond of the taste as the men continued to sing and play, bobbing their heads left to right. 

 

Oh never, oh never, oh never again 

If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten 

I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up 

After drinking a pint of the Johnny Jump Up 

 

Blitz had to admit, the guys could sing, even if the words were sometimes hard to understand. But the tone was enjoyable, despite not being something he usually listened to. 

 

Now I went up the Lee Road a friend for to see 

They call it the Madhouse in Cork by the Lee 

But when I got up there, the truth I do tell 

They had the poor bugger locked up in his cell

 

Says the guard testing him, "Say these words if you can 

'Around the rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran'" 

"Tell them I'm not crazy, tell them I'm not mad 

T'was only six pints of that cider I had"

 

Stolas, who listened to more...classical music, had to admit there was peculiar warmth and friendliness in this...commoner music. Or maybe it was the drink, who knew. He certainly didn't care as he took out a whole bottle and started taking swings from it, ignoring his empty glass sitting on the table.

 

---

 

(https://youtu.be/PSzq9Rnu6xE)


The hours seemed like minutes as the four drank, what from glasses and what from bottles. They talked on and on, calling back to some old tales, talking about random events and troubles they'd been through. Every so often laughter would erupt from the table.

When Rudy laughed, it sounded like a teapot was going off, while Morten sounded more like a car having trouble starting. Stolas half-hooted like an actual owl and Blitz laughed with a high tone, sometimes sounding like he was forcing himself. But he was not. He laughed genuinely like he hadn't done in a long time.


At one point they seemed to move up from the table, walking and talking, dancing and singing while someone played the music. 

-

Both Blitz and Stolas were leaning against the wall, both with a bottle in their hands, chuckling to themselves when suddenly Stolas looked up like something came to him. 

 

"Hey, how come you lost that 'o' of yours?" He asked, to which Blitz became quiet. 

 

"I stopped being a clown." He said in a bit of a sad voice, before scoffing as if laughing at a joke. In a swift motion, he turned, doing a cartwheel across the room. 

 

"Doesn't mean I'm no longer good at it, ha!" He said before his theatric was cut short with him coming against a wall, stumbling to the floor. 

 

Stolas couldn't help but laugh as he drunkenly staggered towards the imp, who was fighting the floor in an effort to get up. Giving him a helping hand, the prince pulled him up, only to slip and cause them both to fall down again. Looking at eachother, they giggled at how silly it was. 

-

Now, all four were playing cards, huddled around the table, hiding their hands from others. They were playing rummy, thought it took a bit of explanation to and from all sides, especially when it came to the prince, who hadn't played any cards before. 

 

"I hav' t' say, this is indeed an... urp , and interesting game." Stolas said, giggling as he held his cards. 

 

"I-It's my turn righ'?" Rudy asked, to which Morten nodded in confirmation as he emptied his glass again. 

 

"Mort, I gotta say, you suure know haw to, to...uhh...play the guitar, yes, that's it." Blitz voiced from his seat, his head swaying from side to side. Morten only chuckled at the compliment, tapping the imp on his shoulder. 

 

"And youu sure know how to arm wrestle littl' guy." He said back, to which both giggled as Rudy threw down one of his cards. 

-

"A TOAST FOR HIS HIGHNESS, RULER OF THE TABLE!" Morten shouted, raising a bottle in the air, to which others cheered, raising their own glasses and bottles in a joint clink. Despite playing the game for the first time, Stolas won, quite handily so. As he drank out of the bottle, Morten's mind was clear of any issues or troubles, only songs and happy thoughts melding together. 

 

Rudy let out a loud burp, followed by coughing, followed by greedy gasping for air as others continued to down their drinks, drops of liquor running down to the floor. The sky was rather dark, and it was harder to see by the moment. So the sensible thing to do was to light a fire in a fireplace in the living room and carry on drinking there. 

-

"One more, come on one more!" Rudy screamed at Morten as he was doing push-ups on the floor, his arms trembling. He had gotten to thirty-two, and was about to do thirty-three when his arms gave out, and he dropped to the floor, causing Rudy to raise his hands in defeat, walking away to find his glass. 

 

Meanwhile, Stolas and Blitz played tag around the coffee table, trying to catch each other while running over the furniture, giggling and letting out fake screams as the other came too close. Finally, Stolas picked up the imp by the shoulder after he tripped over a couch, and he refused to let him go. 

 

"Noo noo, don't go my little imp, th' ruler of the table requires your company." He said as Blitz squirmed in his hands, trying to get away. 

 

"The ruler's got to catch m' first, ha!" Blitz responded, flailing his arms. To that, Stolas leaned back, hugging the imp tightly and crossing his legs in front of him. 

-

Things quieted down. Morten and Rudy walked off to the kitchen, talking quietly about some things from their past. Meanwhile, Stolas had found a large, comfy woolen blanket, and he knew just what he wanted in his inebriated state. 

 

Blitz might have been on many a drunken benders, but Stolas drank absinthe like water, and despite the liquor being strong, he still had enough in him to get the imp to get under the blanket with him. 

 

There, on the couch, they shared the blanket, staring at the playful flames of the fireplace, sometimes taking a piece of beef jerky from a small plastic bag they took. There wasn't much that either said, but they enjoyed this little, calm moment. Just for themselves. 

Notes:

Wait, and ye shall receive! As promised, largest chapter yet, (It's over nine thousand!). I sincerely hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please let me know ;)

With that said, well there's not much left to say. There's plenty that was opened with this one, and there's plenty more to come.

As always, I wish you all a great rest of the week, and may your plans go through without any issues. I would also like to once again recommend the awesome stories "House of Asmodeus", "Backstage", and "One Helluva Broken Day".

Chapter 9: 9th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



--II--

-Mystery Lake-Afternoon-1st Day-

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXxMl92HDCs

 

The two men moved across the frozen lake as fast as they could in their state. The ice groaned deeply under the weight, but no cracks formed or broke. 

 

Their breaths came out as trails of steam that would get caught in the surrounding fog, which pressed from all sides. So dense it grew that the pair got turned around. 

 

"Fuck fuck, where?!" Ollie yelled out, to which Fred only pulled at him. 

 

"Don't stop, just follow me." The older man shouted, moving forward without a clear idea where. All that mattered was getting away. 

 

Getting away from monsters that were so close to killing them both. 

With adrenaline still coursing through him, Frederick couldn't think much about what the hell were those things, only that they were a dangerous threat, one they had no chance of beating alone. 

 

Suddenly, out of the fog rose irregular shapes, appearing to be black rocks, their tops covered in a thin layer of snow. Fred reached out with his hand, running over the hard surface, feeling the warmth seep out of his fingers. Gears turned in his head as he rummaged through the mental images of the area. 

 

There should be an opening to their left if they kept following the rocks. And left they went, closely following the only thing they could see in this fog. 

 

The large rocks stretched far out, outside their limited view, sometimes broken apart by snow mounds that crept over the ice like giant claws. The air felt stale. The wind, usually ever present on all parts of the island, was gone. Not a single breeze blew over the lake, over the choking fog that felt like an entirely different being. Where the wind sought to constantly change things, turn them around, hide some and expose others with its presence, the fog seemed to prefer things remain as they are. Motionless and still, like a frozen painting. A painting neither Frederick nor Ollie was too keen on becoming a part of. 

 

Out of the fog emerged two giant boulders, ice continuing between them into the obscurity. If Frederick remembered correctly, that was the southern access to the lake, if the map of the region was correct. 

 

 

"Through there." He pointed as he continued to walk, his figure quickly disappearing in front of Ollie as the younger man walked behind him, tightly gripping the heavy spear in his hands. 

 

They walked through the narrow passage, ice under their boots continuing to groan. As they made their way past the boulders, the path ahead opened up, revealing a way off the ice. Stepping back onto the shore, onto the snow, they looked around. Few trees stood barely visible close by, only their trunks visible, the fog hiding everything else. 

 

"Off the ice, I think there should be a path there." Fred said, pointing off into the mist. The two men stood still for a moment, catching their breath. Other than the breathing, it was quiet. Disturbingly quiet. Nature, outdoors...it was never quiet. Not like this. 

 

*It's this damn fog...* 

 

Shakily, Fred took a step forward, trying to continue. His prosthetic leg wobbled a bit, making him stumble. Pulling up the fabric of his pants, his eyes opened wide. 

 

The prosthetic was bent inwards! He could see the outlines of where the monster gripped the metal, which was now pressed into itself. Kind of like an empty can being pressed into itself. Except the prosthetic wasn't an empty tube, but a solid fill...The sheer amount of power something would need to press it in like that was horrifying to imagine. 

 

The rest of the prosthetic, most notably the screws and the bolts, would need to be tightened up a helluva lot if Fred wanted the thing to remain securely in place.

 

"Shit, can you even walk with that thing anymore?" Ollie asked, leaning down to look, but before he could do so, Fred let go of the fabric, letting it fall down in place. Continuing on, he grunted. 

 

"Don't worry, you won't have to carry this old man even if I have to throw the thing off." He said, anger bubbling up inside him as they walked away from the lake.  

 

Now that they were away from the danger, fear and dread were replaced with that familiar old feeling that was so present in his younger days. Anger born out of embarrassment and his weakness to do something. He wasn't able to beat the monster. He barely got off alive. He got saved by Ollie, and even that was almost too late. 

 

He messed up, and despite a small voice inside him trying to tell him that he can't blame himself, he did. 

 

If only he did something different when he saw the footprints in the snow. If only he shot at the beast's head instead of its chest. 

If only...

 

"Hey, look!" Ollie suddenly called out, pulling the older man from his thoughts. 

 

Oliver was pointing off to a barely visible structure. Squinting, Fred managed to make out the shape of a hunter's blind. 




--

 

Inside the small structure, there were only three things. A wooden bench, on top of which a flattened orange soda can and a torn up MRE laid, consumed by some hunter ages ago. The rest of the small space was empty of anything useful, not even a stray match or tinder. Pushing the trash off the bench, the two men sat for a moment, just to catch their breath. 




"So...I take it we both saw the same thing?" Ollie asked after a moment of quiet, his knee bouncing up and down. 

 

Frederick didn't answer at first. He clasped his hands together, drawing in a long inhale. For a moment he held it in, and then exhaled, just as slowly. As much as he was angry, he needed to calm down. For his and Oliver's sake.

 

"I saw two monsters that have no place in the real world. Only in books and movies." He finally answered, his tone angry and hard, despite his efforts. 

 

Ollie took his time to answer too, looking somewhere far off, lost in thoughts. His hands absent-mindedly moved across the grip of the spear, and for the first time since the camp office, Fred took a good look at the young man. 

 

The skin on his face was red from the cold. It was also full of cuts he got from jumping out of a closed window. The blood that trickled from many small wounds dried out, looking like crude war paint poorly spread in random places across his forehead and cheeks. Some of the blood was clotted up in his mustache and eyebrows, while other trails led down his chin and towards his neck. The collar of his light blue shirt, visible under his unzipped jacket, had dark stains on a few places. One particular, thin line ran from under his eyelid, looking like a trail of a bloody tear. 

 

To think all that was done by just window glass. 

 

Trying to exhale through the nose, Fred just now realized that it was clogged. Touching underneath his nostrils, he felt the mildly warm liquid stick to his fingers. It passed through his beard, around his mouth, and dripped silently to the floor. It had been doing so all this time, slowly but surely. 

 

With a groan, he took out a tissue packet from one of his pockets, tearing one of the tissues and rolling it into sizeable clumps. Showing the clumps far up each of his nostrils, he exhaled in frustration. 

 

"King of Lust..." Ollie said in a quiet, deadpan voice. 

 

"What?" Fred asked, blinking in confusion. 

 

"That... thing ...that's what it called itself...King of Lust."

 

Thinking back, Fred couldn't quite remember the exact words, but he wasn't about to say Ollie was talking nonsense. Although he didn't like where it could go. 

 

"From what little I talked with Guy...only one thing is known by that title...b-but it can't be..." Oliver stuttered, as if afraid to say whatever was on his mind.

 

"What, what can't be?" Fred pushed, unease spreading through his chest. 

 

Ollie turned to him, his eyes full of pure terror and dread. 

 

"Asmodeus, King of Lust....one of the seven kings of Hell..." He uttered out, his words but a whisper. But even a whisper was loud in this unnatural quiet. 

 

Frederick sat silently at first. Not even breathing. He ground his teeth, his eyes darting from left to right as he tried to process the spoken. 

 

A chuckle escaped him. 

 

Then another. And another. And not soon after, Fred was laughing hysterically, hand over his mouth as he tried to stop himself. 

 

Oliver watched his friend, who was almost like a father figure, laugh crazily. The tone of his laugh wasn't one of mocking. No. It was of someone trying his best not to scream instead. 

 

Oliver could scream too. But his mind was too occupied, his feelings too scrambled. Now that the adrenaline wore off, he felt just...drained and heavy. Now that he could think again, and now that he spoke out those words, he wished they just kept running instead. 

 

A demon...a king of hell, if he remembered correctly what Guy told him...That had to be some kind of a joke right? It had to be. Otherwise, he speared a full-fledged demon straight under his ribs (At least he assumed it had those.) and lived, with only a few cuts and a nasty punch from some disfigured, mechanical beast. 

 

And that sounded stupidly unbelievable even to him.

 

*This is probably a dream, right? I'm probably snoring off in the trapper's cabin, in that old armchair in front of the old wood stove. Yeah, this is just a weird dream...*

 

But despite Oliver thinking himself that little idea, deep down he knew he was lying. And that tore at his throat and his chest, a deep, choking hole forming inside of him. 

 

Suddenly, a hand caught his shoulder. It was Frederick. His eyes glinted, and his mouth was curled into a hard smile.

 

"So what you're saying is that...a  King of Lust ...from actual, real  Hell ...was in that camp office, and we shot at it?" The man asked the question. 

 

Slowly, unsurely, Oliver gave slight nods. 

 

"And then, after shooting it, you put a spear in its side, and we somehow manage to get away?" Fred asked again. 

 

Again, Oliver gave slight nods, clutching at the only remaining bear spear they had. 

 

Frederick nodded in return, clasping his hands together again. 

"Do you hear how incredibly crazy that sounds? I mean, how...how...just how does any of it make sense?" 

 

Oliver didn't answer, and the two remained in silence. In the unnatural, deep silence. 

 

It did sound crazy. Hell, all of this was crazy. From the Aurora messing up all things electrical and making wildlife rabid, them being seemingly the only ones left on the island, to now monsters, or apparent demons, walking around the place. What happened with things being normal? With things being natural?

 

Before either could say anything more, something else sounded off. Their stomachs growled hungrily, not being fed since morning. And it was an active day they had. 

 

"Fuck, seems nothing can go right today," Fred exclaimed, bending down to reach the backpack between his feet. Rummaging through, his hand went deeper and deeper until his whole shoulder was inside. 

 

"Oh fuck." Was all he said as he pulled his arm out, peering down into the backpack, taking it in both hands and shaking it. 

 

"What's wrong?" Oliver asked, bending down to get something out of his backpack. But as he opened the canvas cover, all he was met with was a bottle of water, a sewing kit, pair of gloves, and a small book he was pretend reading most of the time (And sometimes did indeed read it for real). 

 

There was no food. All of it was packed together on the sled. The same sled that was sitting outside the camp office. 

 

"Uh..."

 

"I'm guessing you don't have any food in there either?" Fred asked in a tired voice. 

 

Oliver only answered with a shake of his head. 

 

"God fucking dammit."

 

---

 

"So what's the plan?" Oliver asked as the two men left the blind, walking away. Soon it was enveloped in the cold embrace of the fog, vanishing out of sight. The snow crackled under their boots as they walked forward, weapons firmly in hand. The passage they moved through led between two rock formations on both sides. In other conditions, it would be a place where the wind would blow through constantly. But it was quiet, save for the crunching of the snow and labored breathing of the men.




"We...we go to Morten and Rudy. Guy is alone, doing his own thing. He'll be safe for another day or two, as long as he doesn't run head first back to the camp office. We get to Morten and Rudy, try to explain what we saw..."

 

"But what if they don't believe us?" Oliver cut into the explanation, causing the older man to groan. 

 

"Do you honestly think they wouldn't believe us? I mean look at us. Look at you! From that alone, there should be no doubting." 

 

"And then what?" 

 

"What do you mean then what? We go back and finish the job, that's what."

 

Oliver stopped at the words, blinking rapidly. 

 

"You can't be serious." 

 

"Why not?" 

 

"Why not? What the...YOU EXPECT US TO FIGHT DEMONS FROM HELL WITH THIS?!" Ollie shouted, shaking the spear in his hands. Fred simply shrugged, scratching his beard. 

 

"Seemed to me it did a pretty good job the first time." He said grimly, eyeing the large tip of the spear. 

 

Oliver didn't answer, instead shaking his head in disbelief as he continued walking little behind Frederick, grumbling to himself. 

 

*Finish the job. Bah! We got lucky like you only get once in your life, and he wants to 'finish the job'?*  The younger man thought to himself, hoping that when they reach their friends, they will see reason and talk Fred out of it. There was no need to seek trouble on this island, considering how troublesome everything already was. 

 

They walked past the point where the passage widened. Stopping for a moment, they looked ahead, seeing a few trees in the distance. If Fred had his bearings, they should be somewhere close to the hydro dam. They just needed to find the tracks and go from there. 

 

Walking down the gentle slope, kicking up snow with their boots, they moved closer to the few trees standing together. As they neared them, one caught their attention. 

 

The bark of the trees on the island resembled metal gray in color, dark and thick. But one of the trees was stripped clean, a sizeable part of the light-brown wood exposed to the outside. Deep abrasions ran in all directions like giant, blunt nails were dragged across it. The small patches of half-frozen grass were trampled around it like something had spent plenty of time standing, or walking there.

 

Fred reached out with his hand, holding the rifle in the other. His fingers moved across the hard, uneven surface of the exposed wood. 

 

"Something big caused this..." He said, pulling away and putting his rifle up, looking around, as if something spooked him. 

 

"Think I heard something."

 

Oliver tensed up, lowering his spear as he leaned down, eyes and ears open.

 

They moved back to back, their eyes darting left and right. The fog held back the sounds, the movement. Were they alone? Was someone... something ....with them? 

 

They got their answer in a form of a deep, drawn-out bellow, so loud in the quiet that it was painful to hear. 

 

Oliver winced at the noise and then saw a massive, dark shape in the corner of his eyes. It charged furiously fast at the young man, who didn't have enough time to turn the spear the right way. 

 

At the last moment, Ollie was pulled to the side, narrowly avoiding the center of the charge, but he was still knocked down, feeling the spear slip out from his hands. 

 

Scampering from his back, now on all fours, Ollie looked up to see the thing as it turned around for another charge. 

 

A massive moose, easily twice the size of either of them, flared its nostrils as it stomped on the ground, readying for another charge. Its large, wide antlers looked like two oar heads with thick, sharp spikes protruding from them. Its eyes, two small black dots at the sides of its head, radiated anger. Pure anger. 




Letting out another deep bellow, the beast charged again, its large hooves sending snow and dirt behind it with every powerful step. 

 

Frederick aimed his rifle, the rear and front sights aligning perfectly. The old man exhaled as if the time slowed down. His finger pulled back at the metal trigger. He could feel the pressure as he pulled back fully, the rifle shaking in his hands as he fired. 

 

The flash appeared for only a moment before disappearing again, a thin trail of smoke flying up from the barrel. The noise akin to thunder sounded off, made louder by the fog. 

 

Moose barely flinched as it continued to charge, intent on driving its antlers through Fred's stomach. But the man was ready, and barely dodged to the side, landing on all fours. Turning onto his back, he pulled the bolt back, the spent cartridge flying off to the side and landing silently in the snow, a small amount of leftover smoke exiting with it as Fred pushed to bolt forward. 

 

Taking aim again, he waited for the beast to turn around again.

Just as it turned, exposing the side of its large head, he spotted his chance. 

 

Again he aligned the sights. He exhaled, his lungs empty. He pressed against the metal trigger, again feeling the pressure as he pulled back fully. 

 

The gun rattled violently, but instead of distant thunder, the sound it came from it was that of metal hitting metal, and nothing happening. 

 

Fred, caught off guard by the misfire, looked down at his rifle, and then at the charging moose that was about to reach him. The only thing he could do at that moment was hold the rifle in front of him. 

 

The strike was violent and tremendous. The antlers smashed against the metal, pushing forward both the rifle and Fred, who pushed back, holding the gun as far away from himself as possible. The moose pushed forward, and then suddenly raised its head, pulling the rifle and Fred with it. The momentum was too strong for Fred, and the rifle was torn from his hands. He landed in the snow, managing to land on all fours again. But now without a weapon. 

 

The moose shook its head, a few droplets of blood flying off and landing on the snow. It tried to knock off the rifle stuck between its antlers, stomping on the ground and kicking its hind legs in frustration. 

 

Fred continued to watch when a hand pulled at his jacket collar. Oliver pulled at him, trying to get him to stand up. 

 

"I lost the spear..." He spoke out. 

 

---

 

They ran, charging madly through the snow, through the fog that stuck to them. Away, they had to get away, or they were both dead. The moose would knock them both to the ground and stomp onto them until they were minced meat, and then it would shove its antlers through their bodies a few times for good measure.  

 

The air felt like cold knives, each drawn breath a struggle. Pain flared within their legs, the muscles exhausted and aching. Their knees shook with each step against the frozen ground. The steps behind them grew louder. 

 

Then suddenly, a stroke of luck. Some way ahead of them, two trailers appeared out of the mist, barely out of reach. 




They continued to run, pulling up the last bits of strength from themselves as the steps behind them grew louder, rumbling with terrifying force as they closed in. 

 

Just a bit more... 

 

Fred rammed the door, busting them open. But behind him, Oliver tripped, falling face first into the snow, exhausted. The moose was closing in, it's head down, antlers first. 

 

With a grunt, Fred caught the younger man by the collar of his jacket, wildly pulling him from the ground and into the trailer, Oliver himself pushing with his feet to help. Scampering inside, he smashed the door with his foot, slamming it shut just in time. 

 

A loud smash shook the trailer as the moose crashed against the metal door. Windows rattled and an empty can fell somewhere within. 




With panic, the two got up to their feet, moving away from the doors. Noticing a metal shelf, they pulled it up, propping it against the doors as the moose smashed into it again. The metal groaned under the pressure, and the two men moved to barricade themselves further. Another metal shelf, a locker, a chair, they propped it all against the doors as the animal continued to ram into it, constantly shaking the whole trailer. When they could add nothing else, they pushed themselves against the pile, holding it in place, hoping it holds. 

 

Time passed. They couldn't say how much, but after a while, the banging stopped. The relief flooded over them as they lay on the dusty floor.

 

Neither had the strength to talk. They were hurt and exhausted. At one point, the world turned black.

 

---

-*-*-*-

-Inside the camp office- Afternoon- 1st Day-

 

Fizz clutched at his head. It felt like it would split how badly it hurt. The chair hit him square in the forehead, the lucky fuck. 

 

"Fizz..." Asmodeus called out to him from somewhere close. There was fear in his voice. 

 

Opening his eyes, the imp blinked a few times, trying to put things into focus. His eyes darted right, to the open doors. The humans were gone. His eyes darted left. They opened wide as if they would fall out of their sockets at any moment. 

 

Asmodeus was sitting against the wooden wall, his eyes half open. A giant spear easily the size of Fizz was stuck into his side. A black, irregular circle formed around it, staining the pristine clothes. 

 

"Ozzie!" The imp yelled out, scampering to his feet, moving almost on all fours towards the larger demon. He took his hand into his own, gripping it as he kneeled next to him. 

 

*Shit shit shit*  Fizz thought as he looked over Asmodeus, who breathed deeply, his chest expanding and then contracting with each breath.

 

"Fizz, are you...are you alright?" The larger demon asked, his three faces all looking down at his favorite. 

 

"Wha-? Yes, yes, I'm fine, just a bruise, but you Ozzie..." 

 

"I'm fine... ugh ...I've been through worse." Asmodeus cut him off, moving his free hand towards his chest. 

"I just need to take this thing out and lie down for a moment. And then we'll watch that movie, yeah..." He talked, his voice suddenly calm as if he wasn't wounded at all.

 

"How can you think about the stupid movie now? You need help, b-bandages, something!" Fizz yelled out, looking around for anything that he could use to help. A small, white cross against a red backdrop caught his attention. A medical cabinet, hanging on the wall. 

 

Extending his mechanical arm out and towards it, he pulled it open, taking in everything and anything from inside and placing it into Ozzie's lap. 

 

A few bandages, a bottle of painkillers, a morphine injection, and a full bottle of hydrogen peroxide... Fizz looked over the stuff, and winced. If he tried anything with this, it would hurt badly. 

 

"C-can you open a portal? We could get you to a hospital that way!" 

 

Asmodeus gave a deep sigh, followed by a light cough, only increasing Fizzarollies anxiety. He lifted his free hand, trying to make the symbol for a portal, but a tremor passed through it halfway, and it collapsed mid-way, an annoyed groan escaping its owner.  

 

"Ugh...looks like this thing is a bit more annoying than I thought," Asmodeus said, looking down at the handle of the spear. He wrapped his hand around it, preparing to pull it out, when Fizz yelled out, grasping his hands tightly.

 

"WAIT WAIT! You'll bleed out!" Fizz said, shuffling closer, one of his hands moving to the bandages. 

 

"Fizzy, I said I'm fine..."

 

"Oh shut it you big cock! Stop lying and let me help you." 

 

Asmodeus looked at his favorite, a crease forming on his face as he frowned. Another jolt of pain surged through him, causing a wince. 

Defeated, he gave in.

 

---

 

Fizzarolli kneeled next to Asmodeus, who was lying on the old sofa, his breathing shallow but rhythmic. 

 

After he took the spear out, Fizz treated the wound, bandaging it up the best he could. He used up most of the stuff from the cabinet, giving the larger demon all of the painkillers and the morphine in an effort to wash away the pain. After that, he moved him from his place against the wall, up to the sofa, and ordered him to rest. He covered him in whatever blankets he could find and gave him the not-so-hot-anymore cocoa to sip on. Asmodeus fell asleep rather fast, and Fizz went about doing other things. He covered the broken window with a tarp he found under one of the counters, barricaded all doors, and started a fire in the wood stove on the first floor. He also inspected all of the building for anything usable, finding that the place was stuffed with supplies, all neatly organized on shelves and inside drawers.

 

Deciding that it was a bit too chilly and nippy for his taste, he put on a bit more clothes. If Ozzie saw him now, wearing washed-out articles that were too big for him, he wouldn't hear the end to teasing. Thankfully the king of lust didn't even grumble in his sleep. Being a powerful demon had its advantages, that was for sure. His injuries were going to heal fast, as long as he rested properly. 

 

Fizz, on the other hand, had other plans. 

The two men left a revolver and the spear behind. 

And Fizz wanted rather dearly to give both back, in his own, special way. 

 

He'll wait till morning for that. 
Scooting up against the sofa, he took the arm of his lover, gripping it tightly. His Asmodeus. His Ozzie.

 

Notes:

I know what some of you might think. "Why only one set?" The answer is that I want to even out all of the happenings equally so that one doesn't constantly stay behind, which was the case up until now. Next chapter we will return to the standard way of posting, rest assured.

With that said, I wish you all an excellent rest of the week and the weekend, and a reminded to check out the other fantastic HB fanfics, "House of Asmodeus", "Backstage", "One Helluva Broken Day", and "Owl's Hell That Ends Well"!

Chapter 10: 10th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-/-I-/-

-Outside a cave entrance- Around noon- 2nd Day-

 

For the second time this week, Guy was grateful for such good luck. 

As much as the event was harrowing and draining both to body and mind, it ended well. He didn't want to imagine what the other ending would look like. Octavia falling from such height...no, best not to think about it.

 

After they finally managed to get up, the girl needed some time to calm herself. Thankfully, Loona was there for the younger girl, holding her tight and assuring her friend (Guy was pretty sure they were friends at this point) everything was alright. And while that might not be entirely true in the grand scheme of things, it was true for the moment. 

 

Walking through the narrow ravine that led toward the cave entrance, he looked up at the thin opening that snaked its way between the two cliffs of coal-black rock. He could see the gray-white clouds moving low in the sky, a steady fall of snowflakes dropping from high. A few would occasionally make their way into the ravine itself, dropping down onto the frozen ground. 

 

 

The girls walked behind him. They warmed their hands while also looking about. Well, at least Loona did. Octavia simply stared at the ground, keeping quiet as she trudged along. Today was a lot for her. Thankfully, once they make it down to the trapper's cabin, things would be easier. They would meet up with Oliver and Frederick and have a nice time resting. Who knows, maybe they could even play a card or a board game, Guy was sure they had a few lying around.

 

Finally, the entrance to the cave appeared in front of them, an orange arrow pointing inside. Guy used the spray can through the cave to mark the correct path, in case someone came after him, and so he doesn't get lost on the way back. Not that that was a possibility. He had a knack for orienting himself. 

 

 

---

 

"So, how did you and your guys end up here?" Loona asked, her voice echoing through the cave tunnels. Guy looked at her for a moment, then turned back to look where he was going. 

 

"The reservations were rather cheap here. And it was a nice place to visit, at least from what Fred and some other friends told us. I can't say that part isn't wrong now, but it's definitely a bit more hostile, and a bit too abandoned to my liking." He said, taking another marked turn. 

 

"We planned a week of hanging out y'know. Drinking, watching some cool movies, hiking, and maybe some ice fishing. And for the most part, we still do those things. We drink, we hike, we ice fish. We also search any place we can for supplies and constantly look out for wolves or other nasties." Guy finished, taking a moment to check the marks he left before continuing forward. 

 

Despite being a cave tunnel, the place wasn't as dark as the two girls imagined it to be. There were multiple small holes in the walls and the ceilings, through which rays of daylight shone inside, and the snow that fell through thawed under them. 

 

"And what about you?" 

 

Octavia looked up at the question, seeing that Loonas eyes were open in silent panic as to how to answer it. Her mouth opened and closed without anything coming out, and the silence was becoming concerning. 

 

"We uh...we also came here for some time away. Though we were on the other side of the island when it all happened." Octavia said, earning a look full of thanks and relief from Loona. Guy only nodded as he continued to look in front of the small group.

 

---

 

"Well, here we are." Guy said, stopping right outside the exit of the cave, stretching his arms out, showing what lay in front of him. As the girls walked out behind him, standing on both sides, they looked down at the scene before them. 

 

A wide clearing lay below them, the beginning of the forest on the other side. A cabin stood atop a small hill to their left, and an open shed to their right. Mountains in the distance sat within the deep mist that hid all but their peaks.

 

 

"We might be a bit early, but I'm sure it won't be a problem." The man continued to speak as he walked down to the clearing, heading for the cabin.

 

---

 

He knocked against the wooden doors. Once, twice. 

 

"Hey guys, it's me! Open up!" 

 

No answer came from inside. Again, Guy knocked, this time a bit harder. Still, no answer came. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached for the handle. 

 

"Heh, they are probably sleeping in." He said with a chuckle, opening the doors with a loud sound of creaking. Stepping inside, however, his smile quickly washed away as he stared at the dark, abandoned inside of the cabin. 

 

The bed was made, the fire was out, and there wasn't much on the shelves or the table. The safe in the corner seemed to have been moved. Stepping in further into the empty cabin, Guy looked around, as if expecting Ollie or Fred to jump from the locker or from under the tables. But they weren't there. 

 

 

Loona and Octavia walked in after him, closing the doors, and sighing in relief from the cold wind. They rubbed their hands together, pulling off the backpacks and setting them down close to the door, with an extra bit of care. 

 

"So, where are they?" Octavia asked, looking around. 

 

"Obviously not here." Loona answered the question, moving to sit on one of the wooden chairs. Her eyes wandered over the table, noticing a bit of paper close to the edge. Without a word, she picked it up, examining it. It turned out to be a note. 

 

"Guy, if you are reading this, then you came back earlier than we expected and we are not in the cabin. 

 

We are probably down at the camp office, or one of the fishing huts on the ice. Come down when you feel like it, and share the news! We sure have plenty to show you! We got the safe opened, with plenty of stuff inside it. And also something special you might like."

 

Across the bottom of the paper, a crude drawing of two spears stretched from side to side. A stylized "F" was written under it. 

 

"Hey Guy, I think this is for you," Loona answered, reaching out with her hand, holding the paper for him to take. The man turned around, a sort of lost look on his face. He took the paper, his eyes darting over it as he read the words.

 

Meanwhile, Octavia walked off to the old armchair sitting in front of an extinguished stove. Throwing herself down onto it, she gave a tired, covering her face with the beanie. It's been barely a few hours since she woke up, and she was already up for calling it a day. Her limbs ached, her throat hurt from the cold air, and her nerves were still on edge from the rope climbing. Just a moment. Just a moment to calm down, sit down and rest. Her eyelids felt so heavy...

 

---

 

"Okay, no need to worry. They are just a short hike from here, at the camp office or the fishing huts. Either way, we'll be with them before the end of the day." 

 

Guy folded the piece of paper, pocketing it into one of the mended pouches on his jacket. Loona stared at him, her head propped on her hand. Her eyes followed the rosary around his neck, barely visible from the clothes. 

 

Noticing her stare, Guy looked down, grasping at the rosary, and taking it off. He reached out, inviting her to take the small item in his hand. 

 

Her eyes shot up to his, moving back from her pose. 

 

"Oh, what?" 

 

"You were staring at it. Thought you wanted to see what it was." 

 

"I know what it is." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

 

"Yeah, I guess it's common knowledge. Though this one is not exactly a common rosary, heh." Guy said, letting out a chuckle as he rolled the beads between his fingers. 

 

"I'm sure you'll tell me why it's not common, right?" Loona asked, raising her brow as she crossed her arms. 

 

"Heh, ya got me there." The man said, staring down at the small silver crucifix that hung from his hand. 

 

"This here is a rosary that was given to me when I first came to Rome to study to become an exorcist."

 

Loona's jaw dropped.

 

-*-*-*-

-Mystery Lake Camp Office- Late Morning- 2nd Day-

 

Fizz woke up from his place against the sofa. Blinking, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. The place didn't look like the mansion, that's for sure. 

 

As the minutes passed, his thoughts went back to yesterday. Ah, yes, they went up to enjoy some quiet time in the winter hinterland, just the two of them. They made snow angels, they threw some snowballs...

 

They were shot at. They were attacked. Asmodeus got hurt. 

 

Asmodeus. Ozzie...

 

He clutched at the large hand that was leaning down from the couch, from the sleeping prince that still snored lightly. 

 

Sighing in relief, Fizz got up, his mechanical limbs whirring with every little move. He looked at his sleeping mate, running his hand through the sleeping giant's light blue mane. The two smaller faces on both sides slept as well, their eyes closed. 

 

*"Fred, I don't think there's anyone here."*

 

Fuck those two. Fizz frowned, making a fist with one of his hands. Fuck both of those miserable bastards who shot at Ozzie. His Ozzie! 

 

He looked to the place where the fence posts were broken off. The scene replayed in his head. The two loud gunshots making his ears ring, Asmodeus staggering back from the railing, confusion written over his face. Then anger, so much anger that he turned crimson red, letting out a shriek that almost made him deaf. 

 

Fizz shook his head, trying to push the thoughts out. It all reminded him too much of that monstrous trio...they even shared the same name between them. 

 

Then, he couldn't defend himself. Then, Asmodeus came to his aid. Saved him from a fate worse than death. 

 

Fizzarolli felt the need to do the same for him now. It was too late to save him from getting hurt, but paying those bastards back tenfold would work just as well. 

 

Grim thoughts danced around his mind as he imagined punching their faces in.

 

---

 

He left the camp office through a window since he put up shelves and desks on both of the doors. Closing it behind him, he looked out. 

 

On his left, a wireline hung from post to post, stretching from the building away to a certain point, where it seemed to join into another line that went to both sides. Squinting his eyes, he could barely make out something that looked like train tracks running along that other line. 

 

To his right, a great frozen lake stretched far and wide, interrupted only by small fishing cabins and two islands in the middle of the frozen water. Far in the distance, mountains reached far into the air, tickling the nether regions of heaven with their peaks. 

 

The wind brushed against his skin. Cold, cold whispering that caused him to shiver and shudder, pulling up a scarf over his mouth and nose. Pulling up the hood of his hoodie, he focused back on deciding where to go. 

 

As his eyes moved from one side to another, a little something caught his attention. 

 

In the snow below him, a small dark red blotch. And then another, only a few steps away to the right. 

 

He remembered back to the man he punched, his head looking like he jumped out through a closed window. It made sense. Yeah.

 

With a wide grin stretching out under his scarf, the little imp ventured forth from the office, following the trail his prey left behind them. 

 

---

 

As his metal feet dug into the thick ice, small clouds of mist enveloped his face every time he breathed out. He held onto the spear, its weight mattering little to his prosthesis. The grip of the revolver peaked from the pocket of his jeans. A duffel bag was strapped tightly across his chest, filled with some of the stuff from the office. A few jars and snacks, two bottles of water, a few more bits of clothing, and other little useful things.

 

He continued to follow the faint crimson trail across the frozen lake, stopping every so often to squint for the next small drop. Dammit, why didn't he bring his glasses with him? 

 

The imp continued to follow the blood, eventually going off the ice and back onto the solid ground. There, he noticed the footprints still visible in the snow. It seemed that luck was on his side, and neither the wind nor snowfall wiped the tracks two men left behind. 

 

Fizz continued to walk among the trees, their branches creaking under the wind that blew above. His eyes darted left and right, looking for any movement. But he was alone. No animals or humans in sight. 

 

He soon reached a hunter blind, inside of which he found nothing but a plastic wrapper of an MRE and a crushed soda can. The footprints led here and then continued off. Pulling the scarf tighter over his face, he followed along, leaving the blind behind him as he passed through the narrow pass. 

 

As he reached the point where the passage opened up, distant, broken-up gunfire reached him. It sounded far away, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint where it came from. Continuing to walk, he looked up in the air, trying to narrow down from where the shots were coming from, without much success. 

 

Suddenly, one of his legs stepped onto something hard, almost tripping over it. 

 

With a curse, the imp looked down. 

 

A rifle, half buried in snow, was under his leg. 

 

---

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-Blackrock Region- Late Afternoon- 2nd Day- 

 

The lone figure climbed up the rocks, passing through the narrow ravine between the two cliffs, their tops hidden by the thick cloud of fog that rose above the snow-covered ground he walked on. A few rabbits ran away as he walked by, scurrying into their holes. 

 

 

He had it. 

After all of that, he finally had the code. When the next Aurora hits, they'll be able to finally open the workshop and see what's inside. 

 

His uniform was stained with coal and grease, the polish of his boots gone from walking through the deep snow and the collapsing mines. His palms were bruised, his knees were scratched, and his hair reached almost to his shoulders, unkempt and greasy. The stubble he wore turned into a scraggly, patchy beard. He spent far too long going to that mine and then coming back out. 

 

As he walked down the ravine, his almost empty backpack rattled from the load he was carrying. What little coal he was able to pick up clinked against the improvised grenades he found inside the mine, fashioned from used cans, cloth, and gunpowder. 

 

As much as he hated the Talkers, he was thankful for the caches the bastards left seemingly everywhere around the island. Food, medicine, tools, weapons, they had plenty of it hidden away everywhere, and the caches around the penitentiary proved to be a lifesaver for many, both prisoners and the townsfolk. 

 

He hoped everything was going on smoothly between the two groups. He was gone for what now, a week almost? He and a few others, a mixed group of men from both the prison and the towns, headed off into the Last Prospect mine, in hopes of getting the codes for the workshop. And he found those codes, deep within the mine. But the rest of his group wasn't so lucky. 

 

Before they even reached the mine, they were jumped by a pack of timberwolves. They managed to drive them off using stones and flares, but not before they tore one of the prisoners into a bloody mess, dragging his broken body off with them. 

 

Another man lost his life when they came close to the Bricklayers Retreat, a small stone hut overlooking a frozen lake. As he stood on the pier above the ice, a rotten plank gave way, and before anyone could react, he plummeted head-first into the lake, crashing the ice and sinking below. No one dared to dive for him. 

 

With two men gone before they even reached the mine, the remaining three talked between themselves about what to do. At this point, fear of dying had become more than understandable, the grim reaper seemingly around every corner and hilltop. But they had to keep going, as the man said. Otherwise, the losses would be for nothing.

 

At the Mule Bridge, a narrow wooden bridge swaying heavily in the wind that blew through the wide ravine, the trio went ahead one by one. The first two reached the other side safely, albeit shaken by the treacherous heights they had to cross. 

 

But as the last man walked across, just passing the middle of the bridge, another tremor passed through the ground. Small, constant earthquakes constantly shook the region, but there would always come a larger, nastier one. And this one was indeed nasty. 

 

The ground shook, the grinding of stone against stone filling the air as boulders and rocks slipped from their places. The man still on the bridge had no chance, the rocks crashing down against the aged structure, piercing through wood like paper, tearing ropes into dust. His screams were buried beneath the avalanche that fell into the ravine. 

 

The last two men barely escaped the avalanche with their lives, running into the mineshaft as the snow and rock came down onto the passage behind them. 

 

Inside the situation didn't look any better, the supports barely holding on, water leaking out of every crevice, soaking their boots wet. Still, as grim as it looked, there was some luck to be had. They found working lamps and dry road flares, allowing them to navigate the mines. 

 

They headed out into the mines, deeper and deeper under the tons of rock. Every so often, another rough tremor would shake the tunnels, dust seeping from the ceiling, small rocks tumbling loose. Every tremor was another test of their psyche, of their determination, and strength. And they passed the test, hour after hour, no matter how bad it became. 

 

Finally, at the lowest part of the tunnel, unable to go any further due to the collapsed stairways, they found the resting place of a man who they looked for. One of the prisoners ventured off into the mine for who knows what. And on him was the code to the workshop doors. 

 

On their way back up, misfortune struck again. Passing through a tunnel in a particularly bad shape, another tremor was too much for the aged supports. With a snap and a crackle, they gave in, the ceiling coming down on the pair. The men ran forward as the stones dropped around them, striking against the ground, against their clothes, against them. 

 

As the dust settled at the end of the tunnel, the man breathed in relief, propping himself against the wall. But he was alone. His friend, a shop clerk from Thompson's Crossing, lay buried under who knows how many tons of rock and gravel. 

 

He tried to dig for him. He tried to move the gravel and the rocks, digging until his fingers bled and until he didn't feel his hands. But it was useless. Every time he moved a single rock, ten more would drop down. Not to mention that the man was already dead. 

 

---

 

Hell. He was in a hell frozen over, fighting against nature itself. And not just nature, but that crazed cult as well, all in an effort to protect what little people remained.

 

If not him, then who? He was the only one left on this island that swore to "Uphold the Right". Grumbling, the rubbed his bandaged hands, the bandages stained pink-red from the wounds under them. 

 

As he neared the cliff, from which a large rock protruded, thick climbing rope tied around it, the fog lifted, dissipating into nothingness, revealing an almost clear blue sky, thin white lines dancing across it. On the horizon, right above the mountains, the cloudline was painted orange by the setting sun. The view was beautiful, even in his state.




He just needed to get back to Blackrock. Once there, he can rest, gather his strength, gather his thoughts, plan the next move. But as he looked down the rope climb leading into a deep ravine, a gulp escaped him. His chances didn't look pretty or optimistic.

 

 

-//-III-//-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- Early morning hours- 3rd Day-

 

Stolas stirred in his sleep. Then suddenly, he awoke. 

His two pairs of eyes, half-lidded and barely seeing, looked around the dark room. He was alone, which was strange, as he remembered Blitz being close to him before he dozed off. The air felt stale and stuffy. A faint headache crept up from within his mind as he sat up on the couch, rubbing his face. The warmth of the blanket, as inviting as it was, wasn't enough to drive him back to sleep. He needed some fresh air. 

 

Stumbling towards the kitchen, he found it silent, the fire long extinguished. One of the two men snored silently on the wooden bench, leaned down on the table, his face hidden by his hands. 

 

he opened them with a loud creak, the gust of wind entering the house, giving him a chilling wake-up. The man at the table groaned, shuffling in his sleep at the chill that seeped in around his legs. 

 

Stolas stepped outside, shutting the doors behind him, gripping his shoulders. The air felt cold on his skin, clean in his lungs as he deeply inhaled. He stared down from the porch at the glistening snow that lay all around the wooden house. It looked like a calm white sea, untouched and unbroken, shimmering as the moon shined down from the clean, starry sky. 

 

 

His headache seemed to have backed down a bit, and he exhaled in relief, his chest filled with a sense of weird calm. 

 

A weak point of light to his side lit up, catching his attention. 

 

Blitz was leaning against the fence, his eyes staring off into the distance as he took a long draw from the cigarette in his hand. He breathed out a light blue cloud of smoke, closing his eyes and hanging his head lower. 

 

"Blitz? What are you doing here?" Stolas asked, coming closer to the smaller imp, who jumped at the words, caught completely off guard. 

 

"Shit Stolas don't do that!" He said in a frightened voice, his eyes open wide, shining against the darkness. 

 

The owl prince gave a weak chuckle as he stepped closer. 

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He spoke quietly, leaning down onto the fence, his gaze moving away from the smaller figure and onto the full moon partially hidden behind naked tree branches. 

 

Blitz didn't say anything in return, silently going back to his place at the fence. The silence continued as the two leaned against the fence, staring at the night sky filled with innumerable stars. The only thing that sounded was the whistling of the wind. 

 

Blitz took another drag of his cigarette, before handing it to Stolas. The prince accepted it without thinking. 

 

Time passed. Was it minutes, or was it hours, neither could say. Finally, Stolas spoke out. 

 

"There is more to us Blitz. At least, I want there to be more." He said in a whisper. 

 

Blitz hadn't answered for a long time, and Stolas began to think the imp hadn't even heard him. 

 

"What do you mean?" The imp asked, his voice just as silent. 

 

Stolas gulped at the question, but he knew there was no turning back now. It was now or never. 

 

"Back at the van, you...you said that I shouldn't act like what we have is anything other than...sex." He said, his eyes fixated on some far-off mountain peak, not daring to move. 

 

"I...I know that...I know how I...Sorry, this is just a lot all at once, forgive me." The owl said, taking a long draw from the cigarette to calm down, the embers lighting up as he drew in the smoke. 

 

Blitz didn't answer, waiting for Stolas to continue with what he wanted to say. 

 

"I know that I haven't exactly made it clear or obvious when it came to us...I know how I acted whenever we were talking, either over the phone or together. At the time, I...I saw it differently." The prince continued his confession, gripping the wooden fence. 

 

"I was happy. Happy to spend time with you, even if most of it was spent in bed. It felt...nice..."

 

Words continued to slip out of the owl prince, heartfelt honesty, something almost unheard of in Hell. 

 

Blitz squirmed at the confession, his grip on the fence tightening as the voices inside him tried to deny the words. 

 

Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped his shoulders. Looking up, he could see Stolas standing close to him, his red eyes watery, his cheeks blushed.

 

"Blitz, I want to spend time with you. And not just in bed, even if it is rather exciting..." He said, to which Blitz rolled his eyes, but kept silent, something unusual for him. 

 

"A-and...I do want more. For you. For us. And...would I be wrong if I assumed you wanted the same?" The owl asked, kneeling down, grasping at the imp's face, their eyes locked. 

 

---

 

Blitz stared at those glowing, ruby-red eyes of the prince, for once not having a remark at the ready.

 

His chest felt heavy as the voices continued to scream inside him, pulling him back to events past.

---

*"Are you afraid to love people Blitzy?"*

-

*"I believe your self-consciousness is trying to tell you that you simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but also crave it as well. It's rather unfortunate sir, considering it's often how you treat those standing by you, such as myself."*

-

*"You're gonna die alone Blitzo"*

---

"Blitz? Blitzy?" Stolas asked, not peeling his sight of the imp in his arms. He was deadly silent, barely breathing, seemingly in trance, clear shock was written on his face.

 

The prince didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing that came to mind. 

 

Pulling the imp into a hug, he whispered to him. 

 

"I love you, Blitz, just as I did all those years ago."

 

The words seemed to break a barrier, as in the next moment a silent whimper escaped the imp, who pulled Stolas tightly, burying his own face into his chest, quiet sobs coming from him. Stolas closed his eyes, silently enjoying the warmth the hug gave. Silently saying his thanks for the strength to say it. Tears trickled from him too, running down his face and falling without sound. 

 

---

-Thompson's Crossing-

 

The figure cursed wildly as it bandaged its hand, burned from the contact with the church gates. The damned church gates! What would've happened if the gates were opened, and it just stepped right in? Wouldn't end well, that's for sure. 

 

Frowning, it looked around. There were plenty of other buildings in the small town that it could make camp in, even if they won't make as good of a vantage point. 

 

With a grunt, it picked up the backpack from the snow before heading for one of the houses.

 

---

-Carter Hydro Dam-

 

The Talkers walked through the dark corridors of the abandoned dam, stepping over exposed cables and wiring, torches and storm lanterns in hand. They neared the other side, and once there, they just needed to follow the train tracks to the camp office. As they neared the exit of the building, two of the figures split from the group, jerry cans in hand. Taking off the caps, they began to liberally spill the contents over the floors. 

Notes:

As I'm writing this, I'm a bit tired and a bit uneasy, so I'll keep it short.

I wish you all a great week, and that all good things come true to you. Believe in yourself, because you can do it! I love you all!

Chapter 11: 11th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-I-/-

-Trappers Cabin- Early afternoon- 2nd Day-

 

 

"An exorcist?" Loona asked, keeping her eyes on the man as her body tensed up. 

 

Guy, seemingly unaware of the tone of voice, only chuckled at the question. 

 

"Ha, if only." He said, looking to the side as if recounting some past memories. 

 

"I've been there barely a year before getting expelled." 

 

The girl raised a brow, confused.

 

"You what?" 

 

"Expelled. Thrown out. Dismissed"

 

Loona just stared at him, unsure if she was hearing any of this right. 

Guy looked at her for a moment, then put the rosary away, sighing deeply. 

 

"Okay, let me start over." He said, dragging a chair to the table.

 

---

 

"About five years ago, I... I think it was five? Yeah, it was. So, five years ago, I joined the Schola Fidei in Rome, "School of Faith". There, I would be trained along with others in ways of becoming an exorcist. And I liked the idea, you know? Helping others against the darkness, against the evil possessions, demons and devils and other servants of hell. Quite the idealist I was, as absurd as it sounds."

 

He looked to the side, focusing on a fixed point somewhere high on the wall. 

 

"And at first, it was all as I expected. Classes, studies, plenty of reading, terminology, prayers, having to remember specific named demons, kings, princes,..."

 

"But then one night around December, umm... I was heading back from an evening out, celebrated a birthday with a mate, one Dutch guy. And so I was walking through the gardens of the school, going to my room. And this was like, close to midnight, so there wasn't much going on outside. 

And that's when I heard it."

 

Guy didn't continue outright, trying to find the correct words, mouthing them, but not speaking. It continued for a moment before he managed to push forward. 

 

"It was screaming. But not something you'd hear in a movie or on TV. It sounded...like an animal, but also like a person. Like a weird hybrid of the two."

 

"At first I was spooked, thinking  *What is making that noise?* . And I don't know why, but instead of just continuing on to my room, I wanted to see what it was. And so I walked through the gardens, listening out for the screams. And they sounded, again and again. Every time I'd be a little bit closer, and every time they'd hurt more and more. Like someone was...stabbing you in the ears. And mind you, these were massive gardens, probably as big as Central Park. And I'm walking there along the barely lit-up paths, my phone camera the strongest light I had, searching for that infernal screaming. Stupid couldn't even begin to describe me at that point. That was borderline suicidal. I mean, that's how horror movies start off."

 

Exhaling, he extended his fingers from the fists he created.

 

"At one point, I went off the path, just following the sounds, paying no mind to the fact I had no idea where I was anymore. Despite the darkness, I just kept walking."

 

"Eventually, I reached this...hill of sorts? And on the sides of it were small stone walls, and at one point of the wall, there was a crack, like a pretty sizeable one. And from it, there was this...pink neon glow."

 

"So I go closer, the screams making me deaf at this point. And I peek through the crack to finally see..."

 

At this point, Guy was shaking all over, and one of his knees was bouncing up and down. His eyes were glazed over like he wasn't at the cabin anymore, but back at that dark place deep within the park.

 

"At first, I had no idea what I was even looking at. I tried to figure out the inside of the room, but the screaming and the lights made it too hard. And that's...that's when I saw it."

 

"A huge, twisted monstrosity. And it was staring back at me, into my soul, like it knew I was looking at it. A-and it smiled."

 

Guy grabbed the sides of his head, drawing shallow breaths. 

 

"I ran from there to my room, not stopping for a moment. All of my convictions, my ideas, all of it was gone."

 

"I don't even remember what happened afterward. I just up and realized I wasn't in Rome anymore at one point, but at the summer house with my family."

 

"When I asked the others what happened, they told the story of how I screamed at the top of my lungs how there are monsters in the park when I ran into the dorms, and how I was even tested for possession at one point. It was ruled out, instead they said that I had a mental breakdown due to stress or something. That made me unfit for becoming an exorcist, so they had no choice but to expel me and pray for my soul. Apparently, it even made some rounds in the newspapers, calling me a drunken youngster who saw things due to alcohol."

 

Guy put his hands down, his eyes flicking to Loona, boring deep into her with his stare. 

 

"I know what I saw. And it wasn't alcohol. It was a demon from Hell itself. I'm sure of it."

 

---

 

The silence that followed wasn't pleasant. It was heavy and suffocating as the meaning of the words sank in. 

 

Guy had seen a demon of Hell, there was no way around it. Who exactly, Loona couldn't figure out, as there was a vast myriad of denizens in each of the rings, and she could only guess what he had seen through that crack. From his words, it must have been something pretty nasty. Either that or he was drunk, the alcohol making it seem worse than it was. Hmm, maybe both. 

 

"So yeah, that's the tale of how I didn't become an exorcist." Guy said, cutting the silence short as he stood up. 

 

Loona didn't answer, shifting uneasily in her seat. 

The story opened up some dusty old memories that she had locked away deep within her mind. From a time before da...Blitz adopted her. 

 

No, no, no. That is not something she is dealing with now. No. 

 

"Hey, you okay? I'm sorry if this was a bit too much..." 

 

She looked up and then scoffed.

 

"Bah, don't worry about it. I've heard a ton of horror stories." She said, waving it off like it wasn't a big deal. So what, the guy saw a demon? She saw plenty of demons every day, and she merely batted an eye at them. 

 

Guy only let a doubtful "Mhmm", walking away from the table. As he did so, something caught his attention. 

 

"Oh, looks like Octavia is sleeping. Poor thing, those climbs really drained her out." 

 

Loona looked at the old armchair that sat against the wooden wall. The head of the younger girl was slumped forward, her eyes closed, her chest barely moving as she drew shallow breaths. 

 

"That's nobility for ya." She remarked, rolling her eyes. 

 

"Nobility?" Guy asked, looking back to Loona, who caught the slip of her tongue too late. Fuck! 

 

"Well uhh...ahh fuck, I wasn't supposed to say that." 

 

"What, that she's nobility?" 

 

"Uh, yeah? It's not something that's supposed to be known." 

 

"And why not?" Guy asked, raising a brow. 

 

"Ugh...because of privacy and all that bull."

 

Guy only responded with a silent "Uh-huh", his eyes darting between the sleeping royalty and the nervous girl leaning forward on the chair. 

 

Silence stretched like a piece of bubble gum. 

 

"So what is she, like a daughter of some baron? A marquis? A duke?"

 

Loona frowned at the questions, her facial features hardening. 

 

"A prince." She said the words with a growl, almost as if that was meant to be a threat. 

 

Guy's eyes widened at the answer, the man giving a silent whistle. 

 

"Prince huh? Prince of what exactly?" 

 

"Gah, that doesn't matter. I shouldn't even be telling you any of this. And you're going to keep this a secret, got it?" She said, frowning deeply as a much more obvious threat was placed. 

 

Guy blinked twice, crossing his arms, a crease forming on his forehead as his head leaned to the side. 

 

After a moment, he gave a heavy exhale, walking over to a workbench, and half-sitting on it. As he got comfortable in his new position, he looked back at Loona. 

 

"Why?" He asked. 

 

"Why what?" 

 

"Why such treatment over something like that?" 

 

Before Loona could say anything, Guy continued on. 

 

"So what if she's a princess? What the fuck does that matter to me? What difference does it make if she's some rich blue blood or from a common family? And why so aggressive? I thought I was clear back at the house when I said that I believe you and your group. And that I'm not going to stab you in the back." 

 

Guy was frowning, his face grim, disappointment written clearly over it.

 

Loona wanted to just tell him to fuck off or sit on a dick. But as the silence continued to drag on between the two, a little voice in her head kept telling her to think things through. 

 

He did say those things, true. And now that she thought about it, what did she expect would happen? Gah, all of this was so stupid. 

In a rather rare moment of compliance, she swallowed down her pride and her words, giving a defeated sigh, propping her elbows on her knees.

 

"Dammit, I'm....I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think this through, and I'm just pissed that I said it more than anything." 

 

Guy kept his eyes on her, not moving from his place. Then, after a moment, his features softened, and he gave a sigh as well, looking down. 

 

"Alright...I understand. It's okay."

 

He paused for a moment, as if looking for the right words to continue. 

 

"If it matters to you, I'll keep this between us, even though I don't see a point. Nobility or not, my treatment and opinion of her remain the same. We are in a place where something like that doesn't matter. What matters is that we stick together, preferably with all cards laid out clean on the table." 

 

As he talked, he moved from his place, walking over to the front door. 

 

"I'll go and wait for you outside. You should wake her up, and then change, have a drink, a snack, whatever you need. Maybe even talk things through about this *secret*." 

 

Opening the doors, he gave one last look at the girl sitting on the chair. 

 

"I don't know much about you or your past, but I want you to know this. You can trust me. I know we are almost strangers to each other, but these are strange times. Strange, and dangerous. And one doesn't make it far alone. You might not be alone, what with her and the rest of your group. But I have a feeling you are not completely open to them either." 

 

With that, Guy closed the door behind him, the creaking wood silencing the whispering winds that sneaked their way in until the last moment. 

 

---

 

"What a guy, huh?" Millie asked as she took another handful of crackers from the box, munching on them while sitting next to her husband on the bed. 

 

A bit after Guy left the cabin, the imps decided to get out of the backpacks, the stuffy confines becoming unbearable. Munching on a box of crackers, they went over the whole thing with Loona, since they were there when she talked with the man. 

 

"Expelled because they didn't believe he saw a demon. I thought they would jump at it the moment they heard it. Those Dork guys surely would." Moxxie said, fixing his cap, while also taking a sip from the water bottle close by. 

 

Octavia sat in the armchair, rubbing her eyes. Since she was sleeping, Loona had to explain to her what they talked about, and even told her about the nobility thing. 

 

"Well, at least he doesn't know what nobility I'm a part of. Something tells me he would quickly change his opinion if you told him it was the Goetias." She said, glaring at Loona, who pulled her scarf up, hiding her face as she gave an annoyed growl. 

 

"Dammit, I said I'm sorry. Don't rub it in." 

 

Octavia held her gaze for another moment and then chuckled, taking a packet of beef jerky from the backpack. 

 

"I guess we are now even when it comes to getting us into trouble, heh." She said, teasing the other girl. 

 

Pulling her scarf down, Loona rolled her eyes as she grabbed some of the jerky from the bag. 

 

"I also got us out of this trouble, so it's even on that too, princess." She answered, putting a bit of comedic emphasis on the last word. Octavia laughed 

 

"Oh no it's not. I got us out twice. You are still behind." The younger girl said, her expression full of mirth as she playfully pushed a finger at Loona's shoulder. The older girl gave a mock scoff. 

 

" I think catching you when you fell down counts too." She said, a snarky grin stretching on her face.

 

As the two girls continued to tease each other, Millie watched from her place on the bed, leaning her head against Moxxies shoulder, a dreamy expression on her face. 

 

"Aww, look at her Mox. Our little hellhound is opening up, and all it took was the boss and the prince missing for a full week." She said so only her husband could hear her. 

 

Moxxie giggled at the joke, despite how serious the situation was. They still had no idea where the pair was, and the imp felt like they still had ways to go before finding them.  

 

Wrapping their tails together, he nuzzled against Millie, taking her hand in his own. 

 

---

 

Guy paced around the front of the cabin, hands in pockets. The air prickled against his face, but he didn't mind it. There were plenty of things going through his head that made him numb to the cold and the wind that wrapped around him. 

 

Looking back, he was somewhat surprised that he talked so openly about the...thing that happened. Before today, he hadn't talked to anyone about it for what, a few years? And now he was sharing these memories with strangers he met a day ago. 

 

Giving a loud sigh, he looked at the treeline some distance from the cabin.

Maybe he lost that sense of privacy from the weeks spent with the guys? There were little to no secrets between them, and no need to fake appearances. Perhaps that's why he was so open, even with someone that he just met. 

 

His eyes moved from the treeline to the cave mouth on the other side of the clearing. That other pair from their group still hadn't appeared. What if they didn't make the climbs? Dammit, that wouldn't be good. He'll have to check with Loona what to do about them when they get to the camp office. Once there, they can relax and plan out what next. He wondered what were Fred and Ollie up to right now.

 

---

 

After some time, the two girls came out of the cabin, their faces hidden behind scarves and under caps, their backpacks on their backs. 

 

The trio made their way toward the camp office, passing through the forest until they hit the train tracks. The sky above was fairly clear, without any snow falling down, making it easy to see in all directions. 

 

Octavia had to admit that, despite the cold, it was a pretty sight. Maybe not as spectacular as the dying stars her father would take her to see when she had nightmares, but there was something about the vastness that stretched around them, from the tall trees to the distant mountains, their peaks scraping against the lowest clouds. The twin metal snakes between which they walked stretched out in front of them, on and on, before melting with their surroundings. She wondered where they would take her if she just kept walking. This...weird calmness took hold of her. 

 

Nice. This was nice. No one arguing, no one screaming. Looking back at the exchange in the cabin, a smile crept on her face. Loona, despite her brash exterior, wasn't all that bad. 

 

---

 

As the trio neared the camp office, Guy looked around, hoping he'd catch either Frederick or Olliver. But no one came out of the building, and the lake was void of all life too. A thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney of the office, to which the man pointed. 

 

"Aha, there they are! Probably busy inside, didn't notice us coming. Probably frying some fish as we speak, yeah. Fred has this one recipe that makes the fish nice and crispy. I'm sure you're gonna love it!"

 

Walking past the Mystery Lake sign, Guy noticed the sled sitting behind it. It was the same sled that sat in front of the cabin when he departed on his journey yesterday. There were a few boxes on it, some loose snow covering the top. The whole thing wasn't touched for at least a few hours, possibly more. But what was it doing out here? Wouldn't they move the supplies inside? 

 

Hmm, maybe they forgot. But that didn't sound like Fred. 

 

A sticky sense of unease spread through Guy as he walked from the sled and onto the front porch. Grabbing the doorknob, he tried opening it, but was met with stiff resistance, like the door was locked. 

 

"What the...? Fred, Ollie, what's all this? Stop messing around and open this door!" He shouted, forcing the doors without success. But no response came from inside. 

 

-*-*-*-

-Mystery Lake Camp Office- Early afternoon- 2nd Day-

 

Asmodeus stirred in his sleep, dozing in and out of consciousness as the dreams and reality blended together.

 

"Loona, check the back door." A muffled voice said, sounding so far away. He didn't recognize it. Maybe he just forgot who it was? Asmodeus couldn't tell, his head hurt and his vision was blurry. The right side of his torso itched and prickled, and he wanted to scratch it, but couldn't reach it, his hands not wanting to listen to their master. 

 

Where was he? Was he in his office? Maybe back in the penthouse? Or was it the mansion? And what happened yesterday? Or was this something that has been happening longer? 

 

"No use, these won't budge either." Another irritated voice said. 

 

"Wait, I think I could...yeah, there we go. Come here, we're gonna climb through the window." 

 

The window? What window? 

 

Despite his state, he tried to listen closely to what was going on. The sound of boots against wood, of panted breathing. A sudden yell rang out, cut short by a knock on the wood.

 

"Oh shit, Via! Be more careful girl." 

 

"Augh, it's this bloody backpack. And this window's a bit of a tight fit."

 

"So why didn't you take it off?" 

 

Silence drew after the question until someone gave a loud groan. 

 

"Urgh..."

 

"There there, it's alright. How's your nose?"

 

"In a better shape than my pride."

 

"Ah, don't worry about that. When you get married, you won't even remember it happened."

 

"What?"

 

"Just a saying we have back home. Though I think some of it is lost in translation?"

 

The other voice didn't answer. A few moments passed, then a whistle filled the silence. 

 

"What in the world is all of this? Barricades? And what's this? What happened with the stove!?"

 

"It looks like it was ripped and thrown from its place?"

 

"And this is the fence from upstairs!? Jesus, what happened here?" 

 

The mention of the name made Asmodeus wince. Foul-mouthed, that one. But not like his imp. He would never say something like that. 

 

Speaking of him, where was Fizz? Where was his cute, saucy little imp jester?

 

"Hey Guy, can you help me with this?" 

 

"What? Oh yeah, sure. Octavia, can you go upstairs and see if the guys maybe left any message behind?"

 

---

 

-*-II-*-

-Trailer close to the hydro dam- Around noon- 2nd Day-

 

"Theo, what's wrong?" A muffled male voice asked. 

 

"I can't open the door. It won't budge." Another voice said, followed by another rattle, seemingly trying to force the doors again. 

 

"Forget about it. We'll be going back this way anyway once we're done with the sinners. They are more important now." 

 

There was no response, only a faint sound of steps in the snow moving away.

 

Fred opened his eyes, awake, although barely. His everything hurt, and an annoyed groan escaped him as he tried to get up from his place on the floor. He swore he heard voices just a moment ago.

 

The two passed out yesterday, sleeping on the hard wooden floor of the trailer, leaning against the barricade they made at the door. Oliver was still sleeping, his slender body huddled close to the metal cabinet.

 

As soon as Fred stood up, he doubled down, his insides hurting. He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, and his stomach was more than happy to make it well known. He took a sip of water to try and fool it, at least for some time. Looking over the derelict trailer, he knew it was pointless to look for food in here. By the looks of it, there wouldn't even be some bubble gum or mints in the mess. 

 

They can't stay here any longer. He had no idea how long they'd been out, but they were growing weaker by the hour, and the trip to the coastal town wasn't exactly short. 

 

Fred woke Oliver up, albeit with some difficulty. The younger man was always a bit of a heavy sleeper, kind of like Guy. 

 

---

 

Removing the last metal shelf from the doors, the pair stared for a moment at the bent metal. Oliver peeked out from the few windows that sat high on the walls. 

 

"Nothing. No wolves, no bear, no moose."

 

Gripping the chair leg in his hand, Fred pressed against the door handle, the metal squeaking as he opened the dented door. 

 

Cold, clean air sneaked its way inside as the door opened wide. The two stepped outside, and the first thing they noticed was how much the snow was trampled out, probably from the moose. 

 

"Okay, so we go to the town, find Mort and Rudy, and then..."

 

A sound of a bee whizzing over his head caught Fred off guard, the man instinctively ducking down. The sound of a gun firing at the same time filled the air, causing a few ravens to flee from the branches of nearby trees. 

 

Looking around, it didn't take them long to see the source of the gunfire. 

 

About a hundred meters away stood the monster from yesterday, the smaller one with mechanical limbs, who was pulling the bolt of Fred's rifle, ejecting the spent cartridge. It looked like it wore more clothes since yesterday, a large duffel bag on its back. And a seething hatred that emanated from its big, glowing eyes. 

 

Neither Fred nor Ollie needed to be told to run. As another shot rang out, this time more accurate, they scampered towards the rails that lead away towards a passage among the rocks, sneaking away behind a natural bend. 

 

But as they were about to run into the passage, a terrifying, familiar creature walked out from behind the bend.

 

The moose that almost gutted them yesterday blocked their path. For a moment, it stood still, as if processing who they were. Then, its black, beady eyes narrowed, and the beast let out a loud, deep below. 

 

Instantly the two men turned back, hearing the moose scraping at the ground behind them, preparing to charge. 

 

They couldn't go back to the trailer, they would be trapped. 

But on the other side of the rails, beyond the chainlink fence, salvation showed. 

 

 

The hydro dam had its metal doors wide open, inviting anyone seeking shelter and protection. 

 

"There! Go!" Fred shouted, slamming open the fence gates, rushing past the salvage strewn about the yard, heading for the entrance. The monster somewhere behind them fired another round, this time hitting an old boiler sitting half-buried in the snow, the bullet ricocheting off the metal and hitting a nearby tree.

 

The doors were right in front of them. 

 

---

 

Fizz cursed again and again at how inaccurate this rifle was. Each time he missed, and his ears rang loudly. Not to mention the gunpowder smelt awful.

 

He walked towards the chainlink fence that the moose was trying to break through, not noticing the small imp coming behind it. 

 

With a grin and a chuckle, Fizz simply extended his prosthesis, making one large step over the fence, and there he was, on the other side. 

 

As he walked over to the entrance to the dam, he saw the doors were closed. Trying to open them didn't do anything. The bastards must've barricaded themselves in. 

 

Looking around, he wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of gasoline that seemed to surround the whole place. Was there an open barrel somewhere?

 

At that moment, a perfect way forward showed itself to him. A way forward only for someone with prosthesis such as his. 

 

Notes:

As always, I wish you folks a great time, and a wonderful start to the week! May all your plans go as you wanted them to, and may you be safe and healthy, and a reminder to check out the other fantastic HB fanfics, "House of Asmodeus", "Backstage", "One Helluva Broken Day", and "Owl's Hell That Ends Well"!

Chapter 12: 12th

Notes:

WARNING: This chapter is rather violent and graphic in terms of describing said violence. If you're not good with that kind of stuff, you have been warned.
The links are to the songs you can listen to while reading, they make for a better experience!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



-?-?-?-

-Outside the Camp Office- Noon-

 

Six hooded figures spread themselves out among the rocks that stood some distance from the camp office, weapons drawn. Quiet whistles of confirmation passed through the group as they took cover among the black stones. 

 

They held rifles and revolvers, and two hunting bows, arrows nocked, ready to fly. One held a glass bottle full of brown liquid in his hand, out of which a greasy rag protruded. A bandolier was strapped around his chest, from which hanged several round cans, thick fuses sticking out of them.

 

From their place, they watched the figures inside, a man and a girl, move between the windows. Snowflakes began to fall lightly from above, the wind passing through the rocks. A worn-out flag that still hung from the building fluttered with the gust, revealing the proud maple leaf.

 

They waited for the signal, still, unmoving.

 

-/-*-I-*-/-

-Mystery Lake Camp Office- Noon- 2nd Day-

 

Guy inspected the pile that stood against the front doors, not able to make heads or tails of it. He scratched his beard as he moved past the window, blind to the danger outside. 

 

Loona stared at dry blood stains, barely visible against the dark wood. Her nose prickled from the multitude of different smells and scents caught up in the air. One of them...didn't belong here.

 

"Huh, what's this?" She heard Guy ask. 

 

The man kneeled down, picking something up from the floor. A small, incredibly blue feather, soft to the touch.

 

A shot rang out just as he did so, shattering the window. It narrowly missed his head, striking the wood close to her. Instinctively, she put her head down, staying away from the windows. 

 

"Stay down! Someone's shooting at us!" She yelled out, to which Guy didn't respond, moving across the floor, his back now against the wooden wall. As two more shots rang out, shattering the other window, splintering the wood they hit, he pulled out his revolver, eyes darting to her. 

 

"Did they hit you!?" 

 

"No, I'm alright!" 

 

"Guys, what's going on?" Octavia asked from above as another shot struck a wooden pillar. 

 

"STAY UP THERE, KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!" Both yelled out, Guy inching up, daring a slight peek through the window, barely able to glimpse outside. 

 

The only thing he could see was a large, lone figure charging toward the cabin, a small flame bobbing in its hand, like it held something on fire. 

Quickly, he turned his revolver, letting off a shot before he could adequately aim. 

 

A small cloud of smoke covered the porch, followed by more shots pelting the window, causing him to sink down again. 

 

"Keep them busy, I got a plan!" He heard Loona shouting, and a moment later he caught her going through the window on the other side of the office. 

 

"What the- LOONA!" Guy shouted, but his voice was drowned out by another round striking the wall, sending vibrations through it. 

 

With a curse, he scampered away from the window, getting behind the counter. Crouching, he peeked to the side, slowly rising, his revolver at the ready. The shots continued to fire where he last was, allowing him to easily aim for one of the figures barely visible behind the rocks. It would be quite a shot from that distance. Cocking the hammer, he exhaled. He pulled the trigger, the sudden flash filling the room. 

 

---

 

Loona crawled through the snow, keeping her head down as she made a wide arc around the building, now moving between it and the lake towards the place those shots were coming from, about to come at them from the side. Millie stuck close to her, knife in hand, and a familiar twinkle in her eye. The snowfall that seemed to increase with every moment allowed them to slip by unnoticed, now crouching behind one of the lone trees at the edge of a forest, looking at the hooded figures that shot at the office. They seemed like pale ghosts crouching against the rocks, their white jackets stretching far below their waists, adorned with all sorts of twigs and small branches. They hadn't noticed them, their attention on the building where the rest of their group was. Where Guy, Octavia, and Moxxie were. 

 

Suddenly, one of the figures fell back, a scream tearing from its face, which was covered by a dark balaclava. It dropped the revolver it held, clutching at its body. 

 

"THEO!" A female voice shouted, turning all attention to the fallen figure squirming on the ground. That was their moment. 

 

The girls charged down the slope, quickly closing the distance to their targets, who were busy reloading and trying to tend to the wounded. When they finally noticed them, it was too late. 

 

Loona, using the knife she was given, stabbed one of the figures in the back, the blade piercing the thick coat and sinking into flesh, the impact pushing the air out of their lungs as they dropped their rifle. 

 

"RUTH!" A man shouted, but before he could aim his bow, Millie jumped at him, getting around his neck as she stabbed away. With each stab, more blood spilled out, dripping down the man's clothes and staining the snow red. 

 

Meanwhile, the woman Loona stabbed, Ruth, didn't seem to go down from the single stab. With a grunt, she moved her arm back, her elbow meeting Loona's face. The hit made her yelp, taking a step back, letting go of the knife. The woman, who was on her knee, now stood at her full height, towering over the disguised hellhound. With a practiced move, she took a large axe that was attached to the side of her backpack, her eyes full of anger and hate, all of it directed at Loona. 

 

With an enraged scream, she swung the axe, the sharp blade aimed straight at the neck. Loona ducked down, the axe harmlessly passing over her. Before the woman could prepare for another swing, Loona jumped at her, grabbing the axe, pushing it towards the woman. 

 

As the two struggled between them, Millie jumped from her first victim, his hands gripped tightly at his throat, but in vain. Life was already drained from his body, his eyes dim and milky. There were two other figures standing, one drawing a bow, while the other wielded a machete.

 

Millie looked at them both, a wide grin forming on her blood-stained face.

 

---

 

Guy looked from his place behind the counter and managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside. Loona fought one of the attackers, while the others seemed to have their weapons trained on her. 

 

"Shit shit shit." He cursed as he stood up, moving closer to the window. He had to hurry, he needed to draw their attention before...

 

Something metallic hit the side of his head, catching him off guard. Shaking it off, he looked to his left, down on the floor. A metal can rolled up to his boot, a fuze sticking out of it, loudly sizzling as the sparks neared the can itself. Instinctively, he kicked the can away, sending it flying. As it hit the wall, it detonated, sending a loud, deafening explosion through the building. Metal bits flew in all directions, sticking into the walls and pillars. One large piece narrowly missed Guy's head, instead grazing his shoulder, tearing through the fabric, sending a searing pang of pain through his body. 

 

The force knocked him back, the pinging in his ears drowning out all the other noise as he clutched his shoulder, trying to focus. 

 

As he looked up, he barely caught sight of a fist flying straight for his face. Narrowly dodging it, he pulled back, aiming his revolver, ready to fire at the masked figure. Before he could fire, however, the figure tackled him, shoving him against the counter, smashing his arm against the wood, forcing him to let go of the firearm. 

 

A pained grunt escaped Guy as he used his other hand to send a wide punch into the face of the masked attacker, delivering a solid strike into his jaw. The punch managed to catch the other off guard, the attacker stumbling back, gripping his jaw. A chuckle escaped him.

 

"You punch hard for a mainland sinner." The masked man said, eyeing Guy through his balaclava. 

 

Guy took a moment to look at him, from head to toe. A large, hooded jacket that went well beyond his waist, white-gray in color, was open, revealing a bandolier from which more cans hung, as well as a small, wooden carving of a bear. His pants sported a snow camouflage pattern, while his boots looked worn out, and almost fully covered by the melting snow. A peculiar symbol was on both shoulders of his jacket, a face over several pine trees. 

 

"You're the one to talk heretic, attacking without reason," Guy said back, glancing at the revolver that lay on the floor, just out of reach. 

 

"Oh, there's a good reason alright. You are not part of Mother Nature's plan, and we have to stop you from hurting her." The man answered, an evil grin forming on his face, his eyes showing a familiar glint that Guy thought he wouldn't see again. Fanatical zeal. 

 

With a loud roar, the man charged, throwing a fast punch. Guy raised his hands, blocking the blow, feeling the pain spread through his forearm. Pushing him back, Guy raised his leg, kicking the man in his side. A grunt escaped him, but instead of moving, he grabbed his leg and pulled back.

 

The pull caught Guy off guard. Losing his balance, he fell to the floor, the masked man quickly coming on top of him, trying to wrap his hands around his neck. Grabbing his wrists, Guy tried to push him off, moving one of his legs between them. However, the other man proved to be too strong, inching down closer and closer, moving Guy's own hands over his neck, blocking his airway. He was too large, too strong for Guy to move from him. Panic enveloped him as his body screamed for more air, his legs thrashing wildly. The pressure kept increasing, and the rush of blood going through his veins drowned all the other noise, deafening Guy as he tried to fight back. 

 

Desperately, he let go with one of his hands, sneaking it from under the man, pressing it against his face, trying to push him off. But the man didn't budge. 

 

Fear started to grip his heart, despair and pain spreading through his chest as his vision started to darken. In a last-ditch effort, he stuck his thumb into the man's eye socket, and with all his strength, pushed, screaming as he fought for his life.  

 

The man screamed back, loudly and painfully. Guy didn't let up, pushing his thumb more and more, feeling it become slick as he pushed deeper. 

 

Finally, the man couldn't take it anymore, and he pulled off, escaping Guy's reach, clutching at his wounded eye. 

 

Guy used the moment to push him off completely, using his leg to kick the man to the floor. Turning onto his chest, he looked up, his revolver just out of reach. On all fours, he scampered for it. As he reached for it, almost grabbing the handle, he was pulled back. Thrashing with his legs, he kicked, his heels hitting against the waist of the other man. 

 

Suddenly, he was let go. Turned on his back again, he looked towards the man, who pulled a large axe from his backpack. One of his eyes was gone, a dark trail of liquid trickling into the fabric of his mask. His other eye burned with searing hate. 

 

He raised the axe above his head, intent on sending it deep into Guy's chest. 

 

"DIE, SINNER!" He shouted, but before he could swing, a loud noise of a gunshot passed through the room. 

 

---

(Several moments before, upstairs)

 

As Octavia listened to the sound of gunfire, Moxxie scrambled out of the backpack she placed down, fixing his clothes. Looking around, he walked to the girl crouched on the floor, his tail flicking nervously behind him. 

 

"What's going on? Someone is shooting at us?" He whispered quietly, looking around, concern on his face. 

 

Before Octavia could answer, however, something pulled the small imp back, a quiet whimper escaping him as he remained still.

 

"There's my little imp." A soft, deep voice said slowly, sounding sleepy yet happy. Turning around, Octavia held back a shriek as she watched a large, blue hand pull at Moxxies tail, the imp sliding on the floor towards the couch turned to the other side. 

 

"What? Hey, I'm not your imp, let go..." Moxxie tried to fight it, without much success. As he disappeared behind the couch, a sudden loud noise came from below. Octavia felt her ears ringing, pressing her hands against them as she leaned down to see what was going on. 

 

She saw Guy pressed against the counter, a figure knocking his revolver out of his hand and to the ground. 

 

"Wait...you're not him..." The same voice sounded off behind her again, this time sounding a bit confused. Octavia turned back, just in time to see Moxxie trying to pull himself up over the couch, only to be pulled back again. 

 

A loud, pained scream filled the air, causing Octavia to look down again. Guy was pinned under the other figure, his face red. Suddenly, the o

the other figure moved off, before being kicked away completely from Guy, who now tried to scamper toward his revolver. But before he could grab it, he was pulled back. 

 

Without thinking, Octavia moved from her place, rushing down the stairs, jumping over the railing and down behind the counter. Crawling over to the revolver, she picked it up, the gun feeling heavy in her arms. 

 

She raised it up, aiming at the large figure that now held an axe in its hands. 

 

"DIE, SINNER!" It shouted in an angry, male voice. Octavia pressed the trigger, and before she could react, the gun went off, creating a disorienting flash. The force of the shot sent Octavia back, her arms trembling. The smell of gunpowder filled her nostrils as the smoke rose from the barrel. 

 

Looking up, she saw the man still standing, though his look was now pointed at her, full of disbelief. He still held the axe above his head, looking like a large statue, unmoving. 

 

Then suddenly, a loud crack sounded off. It was Guy, kicking the man in the knee, causing him to bend. Like an old tree, he heaved to the side, and then started falling, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, still firmly holding the axe as he fell forward. At the last moment, Guy managed to roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade of the axe, which buried itself deep into the wooden floor. 

 

The man didn't move from his place on the floor, his grip on the axe gone, his hands both on the floor.

 

Guy panted beside him, clutching his neck, his eyes not moving from the man, as if he might get back up. 

 

A high-pitched scream, followed by another gunshot, filled the air, causing him to flick his gaze to the window, through which several snowflakes flew inside the building. 

 

"Shit, Loona." He said, trying to get up on his feet. Grabbing the axe from the floor, he looked at her. 

 

"Stay inside." He ordered, before jumping out of the window, disappearing out of Octavia's view.

 

---

 

Loona struggled with the larger woman, but it wasn't a fight she would win. A wicked grin formed on the woman's face, revealing yellowed teeth. She pushed Loona down further, threatening to overpower her.

 

Loona let her push further, bending one knee and moving to the side, pulling the woman with her. Not expecting it, the woman stumbled forward, not quite falling down. Loona used the momentum, letting go of the axe and turning away, sending a kick into the woman's knee, making her bend down, crying out in pain. Jumping at her from behind, she grabbed the knife, pulling it out. As the woman struggled to get her off, she stabbed at her throat, before pulling the knife to the side, sliting it open. A gargling sound came from the woman as she let go of the axe, thudding down on the snow, grabbing at her throat.  

 

Loona jumped off, heavily breathing, her whole body shaking as she firmly held the knife in her hand. 

 

"Loona, watch it!" Millie shouted behind her, but too late. 

 

A sudden, hard force hit her from behind, right in her shoulder. She let out an angry, pain-filled roar as she turned around to face the threat. 

 

The figure with the bow was pulling another arrow from the quiver fastened around its waist, nocking it, pulling the string back, raising the bow to aim. 

 

Before it could do so, Loona charged forward, tossing the knife at it. It whistled through the air, hitting the figure in the thigh, sinking all the way to the hilt. A pained male scream filled the air, the man leaning to the side, the string of the bow loosening as he lost his balance. 

 

Immediately, she was on top of him, pushing him down to the ground, jumping onto him. Pulling the knife from his thigh, she clutched it with both hands, aiming square for his heart. As she thrust the blade down, he instinctively raised his hand. The blade pierced through the open palm, pushing the hand down. Another shriek escaped the man, and in a wild frenzy, he began to thrash, his legs kicking the snow, while his free hand waved for her face. Forming a fist, he punched. Once, twice, the blows hitting the side of her face, sending wild shivers through her, bringing her mind back to that horrid place...

 

Fighting it, she screamed at the top of her lungs. She pulled the knife back and flung it down. This time, the hand didn't matter. The blade tore through the fabric, sinking into the warm flesh underneath, right to the heart that beat frantically. 

 

The resistance ceased as the man exhaled his last breath, his eyes drifting off toward the gray clouds looming over them. 

 

Millie breathed heavily as she and the last remaining figure remained, the two circling eachother, eyes locked, trying to read the opponent's next move. 

 

Her opponent, a lanky girl maybe the same age as her, frowned at the smaller imp. Her balaclava slipped from her head when the two started fighting, revealing a pale, freckled face, and ginger-brown hair tied in a ponytail. 

 

All over her body, there were smaller cuts, mere flesh wounds staining her white jacket. But if she didn't bandage them soon, she would bleed out. 

 

Millie, on the other hand, only had a single cut on her body, but it ran deep, blood black as ink trickling through her fingers that tried to staunch the bleeding.

 

"Foul creature... cough ..." The woman said, taking a swing at the imp. 

 

Millie dodged it, rolling in the snow, shakily getting on her feet. Her eyes shined with angry malice, her teeth bared. But she didn't speak. 

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, the woman caught Loona getting up from the man lying dead in the snow. For a moment, fear and disbelief flashed in her eyes. 

 

"Luca...no..." She whispered out, before letting out a high-pitched scream. 

Pulling out a revolver, she fired a hip shot at Loona, only hitting snow. Millie jumped at her, but the woman kicked her away, launching the imp behind one of the rocks.

 

Gripping her machete with both hands, she charged at Loona, shrieking at the top of her lungs. 

 

Loona, taken back by the ferocity, tried to back away on all fours, but the woman was closing in fast. 

 

Right as she was on top of her, a large axe came out of nowhere, hitting the woman directly in her chest, cutting her shriek off.

 

The force of the impact sent her back, knocking her to the ground. The axe was removed from her chest, the blade shining red, droplets of blood falling from it. 

 

Loona looked to the side, seeing Guy standing beside the woman, grabbing the axe with both hands, and raising it above his head. His expression was petrifying. The face of pure death. 

 

With a single fluid movement, he moved the axe down. A heavy, squishy sound followed. 

 

And then, it was quiet.

 

---

 

Theo pulled himself over the white ground. A trail of his blood followed behind him as he weakly tried to push himself further. His fingers felt numb and cold, his vision was misty and blurry. His insides felt like they were on fire, and covered with ice at the same time. And the pain, oh the searing pain. 

 

Just a little bit further. Just have to find a place to lie down and take a breather. Just need to lie down for a bit and gather his strength. 

 

Oh look, who's that coming to him? It looks large, and wrapped in thick fur. Was it Jeremiah? Or maybe it was the leader? 

 

"Please... sir...I'm here...help me-e..." He cried out, the words shaky on his lips. 

 

But as the figure moved closer, his vision cleared, his nostrils filling with a stench the old trapper spoke of rarely and in a hushed voice. 

 

The vicious, ugly stench of death and dried blood. 

 

Theo screamed at the top of his lungs.

 

---

 

The sound of screaming caught Guy's attention. He moved his eyes from Loona, who he was helping up, to the source of the noise. 

 

His eyes opened wide, and his jaw hung loose at the sight. 

 

Some ways away from them stood the massive monstrous beast, the bear. 

 

Its fur was dark and overgrown, with its end grayish and whitening. Dark red stains were spread all over its body, dried blood from its many victims. A gallery of scars and exposed skin covered the monster, stretching from its slobbering maw to its round hind legs.

 

It tore through the man that crawled on the ground, his scream trailing off with the wind as it bit down on his throat, ripping it out, splattering the ground red. 

 

Guy stood there, frozen, his body in shock at the sight of the beast. He could feel the scars across his chest prickle and ache, his throat closing up. 

 

Loona stood up behind him, silently observing the scene. She wrinkled her nose, the stench of blood in the air was becoming too strong. And there wasn't just blood that she smelled. There was something else...and it was coming from that bear. 

 

"Uh...Guy?" She asked, tugging at the man. No response. 

 

"Guy, we can't stay here. Come on, we kinda have to go..." She continued, pulling at his shoulder, pointing to the direction of the cabin. 

 

The bear buried its maw into the limp corpse, wet, slobbering sounds of chewing filling the air as it feasted on its kill. 

 

"Guy, for Lucifer's fucking sake, we need to GO!" Loona yelled out, pulling him so hard that he had to involuntarily take a step back. That seemed to do it, as in the next moment he turned around, looking her square in the eyes.

 

"Follow me." Was all he said, before moving from his spot, running as fast as he could. But he didn't run towards the camp office. 

 

"Wait, where are you going?" Loona yelled out, glancing back at the bear as she followed. The beast seemed to notice her gaze, as it looked up in the next moment, its eyes locking with hers. 

 

"It'll break through the building, we have to lead it away. Trust me." Guy shouted, running down the gentle slope that led towards the lake. 

 

She didn't answer, instead letting out a worried whimper as she picked up the pace, noticing that the bear began to move from its place. 

 

As the two stepped onto the ice, they were met with the shrill wind that blew down from the skies, the snowfall increasing with every moment, making it more and more difficult to see. 

 

"Listen, you'll have to run to the other side of the lake! There are cabins there you can hide inside! I'll draw its attention!" Guy shouted, pointing at a small brown spot that was barely visible behind the constantly shifting blanket of snowflakes. 

 

"What?! Are you crazy?!" Loona shouted back, glancing back again, only to see the bear charging towards the ice at a frightening speed. 

 

"Don't think about it, just run!" Guy said, and pushed her off towards the cabins, while he himself ran in the other direction, turning around and waving his hands in the air. 

 

"HEY, YOU BIG STUPID MISTAKE OF NATURE! OVER HERE! REMEMBER ME!? YEAH YOU DO YOU STUPID ANIMAL! COME GET SOME!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, continuing to walk away. 

 

Loona wanted to turn back and say how stupid he was. How stupid all of this was. But her legs didn't listen, carrying her further and further, until all that was left behind her was a white flurry.

 

---

 

Guy ran, his chest hurting, his lungs aching, his legs searing in pain. Just a little bit more, just a little bit further. As far as possible. 

 

As he passed the small island in the middle of the lake, he stopped, turning around. 

 

The bear charged at him until it reached a certain distance. Then, it slowed down into a fast walk, continuing to approach him. 

 

Greedily gulping down the cold air, he reached into one of his many pockets, pulling out a lighter. Out from his backpack, he pulled the molotov he picked up as he ran to help Loona. The greasy rag was half burnt, but it would still be enough for what he planned. If others knew, they'd call him suicidal. But if it meant protecting them, it was worth it. 

 

Lighting up the rag, the sparkling flame quickly blazed up, hungrily devouring the oiled fabric. The heat coming from it warmed Guy's hand as he shifted on his feet, not moving his eyes off of the hulking monster that approached him. 

 

The bear snarled, its paws leaving thin cracks on the thick ice as it walked over it. Its savage, beady little eyes didn't move from its prey, which escaped the first time by sheer luck. But not today. Today, it would feast on it from head to toe.

 

Breathing steadily, Guy recited a hasty prayer.

 

"Glorious Sebastian, martyr and saint,

I call on your strength and courage

to help me through this difficult trial. 

I ask that you give me strength to protect

those I swore to keep safe, 

so they may live to see a brighter future. 

May you bless me with your fortitude, 

so I may see this task through. 

 

Amen"

 

And with that, he tossed the blazing bottle at the bear. 

The glass shattered against the thick fur, the brown liquid spreading over it and oozing down onto the ice. The sparks of the flame jumped, and in an instant, the bear was set ablaze. 

 

A deep, anguished bellow raged from its maw as the flames burned away at its fur, spreading around it and sizzling against the ice. 

 

Guy took the bloody axe in his hands, accepting what awaited him. 

 

 

With a scream, into which he poured all his courage and faith, he charged at the bear, the axe above his head. He swung down, hitting the beast in the same place where Rudy hit it, the axe blade easily chopping into the old wound. Pulling out, he swung again, this time aiming for the head. But before the hit landed, the bear stood on its hind legs. The axe missed, striking the weakened ice below.

 

A deep groan spread under them, seemingly going through the whole lake. A crack, and then another. 

 

The ice shattered, and the man and the beast were pulled down into the black water. 

 

---

 

As soon as she heard the scream, Loona stopped. The snowfall was turning into a full-blown blizzard by this point, and it was getting difficult to move, hear or feel anything, her face and fingers drained of all warmth.

 

Still, where the eyes failed, the nose didn't. Sniffing the air, she managed to establish where Guy was. As fast as she could, she moved towards it, hoping to see him pop out of the white blanket at any point. 

 

Then, out of the white, orange tongues appeared, small and diminishing. 

As she neared them, she could hear the ice under her feet groan and crackle. 

 

Suddenly, a massive, black hole appeared in front of her. But it wasn't a hole. It was water, its surface rippled by the blowing winds. The scent ended here. 

 

No...no, it couldn't have. 

 

No

Notes:

And there we go, a chapter I was dying to write for quite a while now, ended up being somewhat different from what I first imagined. But then again, so was this whole thing. Also, surprise surprise, we hit 1k hits! That's not a small thing to do, and I'm thankful for all of you kind and wonderful people.

With that said, I wish you all a great start to the week. And watch out for cold water.
---
Hey there all of the older viewers. You might have noticed the new addition to the chapter. I hope you like it :D
Be good my friends, and I wish you a great summer, and the whole year ahead.

Chapter 13: 13th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-II-*-

-Carter Hydro Dam- Noon- 2nd Day-

 

The two men struggled to catch their breath, their hands propped against their knees, their bodies shuddering from exertion and sweat. 

 

There was no banging on the doors, no attempt to force them open. Only the wind danced around the outside of the decrepit building. 

 

Decrepit was the perfect way to describe it. A thick layer of dust covered all surfaces, and each minute movement would kick some of it in the air, irritating the lungs. 

 

However, the floor beneath their feet was strangely clean, as if someone passed through here not too long ago. And dust wasn't the only thing in the air. 

 

"Fuck, you smell that?" Oliver asked, rubbing his nose as the sharp smell of gasoline hit him. 

 

Frederick contorted his face too, a weak cough escaping him. 

 

"Gasoline,  yuck ...like the whole place is soaked in it." He said, spitting out to the side as he looked around. 

 

Squinting his eyes, he spotted it. Dark, irregular lines of liquid were spread over the floor, mixing with the dust and forming a sticky, oozing mixture that filled the whole place with mind-numbing fumes. 

 

Someone poured out plenty of the stuff all over the room. And seemingly recently...

 

"Hell, this just keeps getting better and better..." Fred muttered, taking a few steps away from the barricade they threw against the doors. They seemed to be getting pretty good at that, blocking the doorways against stuff that was trying to kill them.

 

"Grab a pipe or something, I don't know if we're alone in here."

 

---

 

Fizz pulled his legs back in as he got inside the building through the broken window. Deciding to leave the stupid rifle outside, he opted for the revolver, its smaller size making it easier to handle, especially inside. It was dark in here, and cramped, the space filled with desks and metal shelves. Kinda reminded him of the time he squatted in the basement of the club, hiding in one of the storage rooms. And now he was here, going through a similar place, to search for those that wronged him and his Asmodeus. 

 

As the Prince of Lust wandered into his mind, so did the concern. Was he maybe awake now? Was he alright? Did he understand where he was? 

 

Fizz hoped the note he left would be enough to calm him down and assure him to stay put. Though knowing Ozzie, he would probably do the exact opposite. He took a moment to imagine the giant blue chicken stomping through the snow in search of him, the thought making him chuckle. 

 

Despite the lack of lights, it wasn't a complete pitch-black darkness. He managed to make his way around the desks, on top of which a bunch of files and papers sat, collecting dust, mold, and whatever else. The floor was dirty too, and full of cables and bits and pieces of metal. Even a few ceiling tiles were strewn about, fallen from their place, leaving black holes in the otherwise gray-white ceiling. 

 

What a dump. And in a place such as this, no less. 

 

Reaching a doorway, through which he managed to make out a stairway, the imp stopped for a moment, ears open. He held his breath as he waited for any sounds he wanted to hear. It wasn't exactly easy to hear much, as the pipes that seemed to run all over the place rattled and groaned almost constantly. Like the metal was constantly being strained or moved. 

 

"What if it found another way in?" He heard a faint voice coming from somewhere down below. 

 

"We'll be out of here by then I hope..." The other voice answered, but Fizz couldn't hear everything, as a particularly loud creak passed through the pipes, causing a few specks of dust to seep down from the ceiling.

 

---

 

"Think there's anything to eat in here?" Oliver asked as he looked around, opening one of the metal lockers, the hinges letting out a high-pitched screech as he did so.

 

"Maybe after a tetanus shot and antibiotics..." Frederick responded, glancing over the rusted piping and cracks in the walls. He doubted there'd be anything edible in this mess. 

 

With a sigh, Ollie closed another metal locker with a clammer, only some paper and dust inside it. 

 

"So, what do you plan on doing now?" He asked the older man, who was trying to open one of the doors.

 

With a grunt, Fred let go of the handle. Locked. 

 

What could they do? They couldn't go back, and going forward seemed equally risky as well since neither knew where they would wound up if they walked deeper into the dark corridors of the abandoned dam. Who knew if they would even find another way out? The place was a proper mess and a half, and it wasn't unlikely that somewhere the paths were blocked off completely, what by debris, what by collapse.

 

And in their state, staying here wasn't exactly a viable option either. The stomach started to growl again, begging for food, water, anything to quench the gnawing hunger. 

 

Fred cursed inwardly at such a rookie mistake. Leaving all of the supplies on the sled, not packing anything in their backpacks, believing that they would take it all off when they get inside. And now they were paying a price for sloppiness, for wanting lighter backpacks instead of staying prepared.

 

"Still the same. Get to the coast, get to Mort and Rudy. They still have their weapons, not to mention food. We then go back and make that little bastard pay for shooting me with my own rifle." He said, anger bubbling up inside him at the thought. 

 

"Heh, good thing it's not a good shot." Oliver said, when horrid noise slipped through the dark room. Like a sputtering chainsaw running across gravel and rock, it bounced off the walls, screeching. The hairs on the back of the neck raised, the blood turned to ice. 

 

From a doorway, they saw it. Two glowing, golden yellow eyes, as large as teacups, staring, hate and malice radiating out of them. Like two lamps in the dark, they moved with the body, the arms and legs whirring with each move as the creature sneaked its limbs out, grabbing the doorway, extending its legs, growing taller as it passed through, a wide, evil grin stretched across its face as it continued to cackle, letting off that horrendous noise. 

 

Laughing. The hellspawn was laughing.

 

"Why don't I show you two  fine gentlemen  just how good of a shot I am?" It asked, its voice dripping with anger. One of its arms extended behind it, grabbing something. It pulled into view one of the big bear spears, the blade glinting as it passed in front of its shining eyes. It held the large weapon in one hand, while the other already held a very familiar revolver.

 

Ollie gasped, while Fred eyed the creature, tightly gripping the metal pipe in his hand. His eyes darted from the revolver to the spear, and then back to the shining pair of eyes. With his free hand, he grabbed Ollie by the jacket, slightly pulling him back, as he slowly moved away too. 

 

"After all, it would only be fair, after you showed your performance on my angel!" It shouted, tossing the spear. 

 

The weapon flew forward with such speed and force that it whistled through the air. In the last moment, Fred pushed Ollie to the side, at the same time ducking away. The spear passed right where the two stood, piercing a metal locker that stood some ways behind them, the whole blade disappearing inside.

 

The fall kicked all air out of Fred's lungs, the man wincing as he landed on an uneven piece of pipe. 

 

Oliver, who only staggered a few steps to the side instead, looked up, towards the large creature that now prepared to fire the gun. As it pressed the trigger, he leaped to the side, disappearing behind a pile of boxes and wooden crates. The shot rang out, filling the space with a dizzying pinging noise, striking the dirty tiles where Oliver stood just a moment ago. Several sparks jumped in the air, before withering away in the dark. 

 

The creature cursed under its breath as it steadied the gun again, this time aiming at Fred. As quickly as he could, he pushed himself across the floor, back towards the entrance room. Before he could get fully away, however, the hellspawn fired again. 

 

He felt his leg vibrate hard as the bullet passed through the fabric of his pants, striking the metal prosthesis underneath. The force pushed it to the side, making him groan in pain as the leg moved further than it was comfortable. 

 

Fred managed to pull himself back further, before starting to get on his feet. The initial shock was passing, and inside his chest a fiery knot was burning up, fueling his body as a particular glint passed through his eyes. 

 

Leaning on his non-amputated leg, he let out a low growl. 

 

"You're not the only one with metal bits you stupid tin can! COME HERE!" He shouted, banging the pipe against the nearby table. The whirring of the coils continued from the other room, barely audible from the pinging that still resonated in his eardrums. As the part of the creature came into view, he charged forward, the pipe ready to slam down on whatever part of the monster he could catch. 

 

Oliver jumped from behind, knocking over boxes as he leaped forward. He pounced on the creature from behind, his arms wrapping around its neck in a headlock, squeezing tightly as he tried to pull it back. 

 

Fred swung at one of the mechanical legs, the pipe slamming against the metal, bending the whole thing to the side. 

 

The thing shouted as if the leg was real. Its free arm whirred back to Oliver, trying to grab a hold of him as the man gripped tighter. The other hand still clutched the revolver, but it couldn't focus on aiming the weapon.

 

---

 

Damn his big mouth and his feelings. If he just waited silently, he'd be done with them already. But no, he had to run his mouth, show off like he does on stage. 

 

But he wasn't on stage. There was no hellhound security, or Asmodeus to protect him. He was alone, against two humans that weren't about to go down, not without a fierce fight.

 

He felt the arms of the younger one close around his neck, pressing tightly as he tried to choke him. If he could only get that bastard off his back!

 

The older bastard hit one of his prostheses. The sensors made Fizz feel the impact of the blow as if it was on his own flesh. 

 

Instincts of the imp in mortal danger took over. His scream of pain turned into a roar as he bit down on the arm around his neck, his sharp teeth piercing through the jacket, sinking into the warm flesh underneath. He could feel blood on his tongue as he bit down, refusing to let go even as the screaming behind his head increased. 

 

Fizz could feel the pressure lifting from his neck, allowing him to breathe once again. Greedily he drew the dusty air through his nostrils as he let go of the bloodied limb, leaning back and shaking his shoulders to try and kick off the stupid prick off his back. 

 

As he did so, he looked at the older man, who readied another swing at his legs. But he was too slow, as Fizz pulled back his legs with ease, causing him to miss, hitting only the empty air. 

 

The sudden change in height seemed to have done it for the prick on his back, as he now stood taller than the imp he tried to choke. Fizz bent down and then jumped back, extending his legs, and using them as a pushing force. The man was knocked back, but before he could fall, he grabbed for the duffel bag, pulling Fizz with him. 

 

---

 

Fred coughed from the dust kicked up by the fight, looking up to see the creature lying on top of Ollie. 

 

The younger man threw a punch, managing to hit the thing in the face, causing it to let out a hurt whimper, knocking it to the side. 

 

As he did so, he scampered back, trying to get onto his feet. Fred looked at the creature, seeing it raise the revolver again, trying to aim for Oliver. 

 

Without thinking, Fred dashed forward, charging head-first into the monster on the floor. He saw red, his vision narrow, his nostrils flaring. 

 

He was going to tear that thing to pieces! 

 

He didn't feel anything as the gun fired, the flash illuminating the room. The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils as he pounced onto the thing, which now seemed so much smaller. He reached for the revolver in its metal hand, grabbing the fist and smashing it against the floor. 

 

Just as he smashed it to the floor, he felt the prosthesis rising, unable to keep it down. Something hard punched his face with such force that it moved him to the side, his cheek burning up as he tried to steady himself. 

 

---

 

Oliver clutched the wound on his arm as he propped himself against a wooden crate, trying to stem the bleeding. It burned. Oh God, how it burned. 

 

His eyes wandered from the wound to the struggle a few meters in front of him. The metallic limbs looked like shiny snakes as they moved around the dark room, trying to find a footing. Suddenly, Fred was punched, the force knocking him to the side. He shook as he tried to pull himself up, but didn't manage. 

 

Meanwhile, the monster pulled itself up shakily, its glowing eyes moving from Fred to Ollie. The hate and anger were still there, but there was also exhaustion. 

 

This couldn't go on. It was a pointless struggle, and with every new wound, they just made their condition worse. 

 

 Oliver thought back to the conversation they had in the blind. He thought back to the words the creature said. Pain spread through his head, his face contorting.

 

*"After all, it would only be fair, after you showed your performance on my angel!"*

 

Wait...that didn't seem right. Fuck, nothing seemed right anymore. 

 

"P...Pa..." He tried stuttering out. His tongue didn't move, while his jaw had a mind of its own. 

 

The sound caught the attention of the creature, its head leaning towards him. 

 

*Come on! Focus dammit! FOCUS!*

 

"Pa..Parsley...no, no, wait..." He spoke out, stumbling over his words as the figure eyed him darkly, still squeezing the revolver, drawing heavy breaths.

 

"Parlay...PARLAY! Mercy, please!" His mind finally connected the dots, and the words spilled out. 

 

The creature stood still for a moment. It blinked, once, twice. Before it could say anything, Oliver continued, rushing to get it all out in time. 

 

"We-we-we didn't know you were in there! We didn't want to shoot your angel! Please, just let us explain! Please, have mercy!" He sputtered out, not even breathing between the words. 

 

Begging. He was begging for mercy and a chance to talk things through. 

That was something one couldn't do here, not with animals. They didn't give a choice. There was no mercy when it came to nature or its children. 

 

But perhaps mercy could come from a creature not of nature? For that, another virtue was needed. Hope. Something that already trembled and buckled in this frozen land of despair and darkness. 

 

Hope for mercy from a hellspawn. A laughable concept. 

 

---

 

Fizz stared at the young man clutching his wounded hand. The imp could still feel the blood in his mouth. A bitter, metallic taste. 

 

Mercy. This human, the one that pushed a spear into the side of Asmodeus, his Asmodeus, now begged for mercy, trying to give excuses for what they did. 

 

If he felt better, he would have laughed. But his body hurt. His neck hurt. His limbs felt sluggish, slower than before. A small voice whispered inside his head. As if someone...something, whispered to him. 

 

*Asmodeus. He needs you. He needs you more than you need this. They didn't kill him. They don't have to die.*

 

"Kid, are you being serious right now?" He heard the older man speak. He directed his gaze to the figure, slumped on the ground, one of his hands pressing onto his chest. 

 

"Fred, Jesus Christ can you not?! I don't want to fucking die over this! I don't want you dying over this!" The younger one said, still gripping at the wound. It didn't look like the bleeding would stop. 

 

Fizz gave a loud exhale, feeling his body grow tired. He decided to risk it, if even for a bit. He found a nearby table, and slid over to it, sitting on its edge. As soon as he did that, he felt his body relax, the aches being whisked away. 

 

Just for a moment. He can listen, just for a moment. Then he'll ditch these assholes and run back to his prince. His lips stretched into a grim frown as he looked at the younger man. 

 

"Talk." 

 

---

 

As Oliver explained the situation, Fred moved over to him. He bandaged the bloody wound, occasionally throwing an angry glare in the direction of the thing sitting on the table, only for it to glare back, and stick a tongue out as well, mocking him.

 

At one point, Oliver introduced the two of them.

 

"I'm Oliver, and this is Frederick. A-and who...what, are you? D-don't take it the wrong way, w-we just never saw a... uh..."

 

"A thing from hell." Fred finished the sentence, scoffing. "Though my first boss probably could've been from hell for all I knew." 

 

The thing chuckled at the joke but clamped up the moment it noticed. Clearing its throat, it stretched a wide grin as it pointed to itself.

 

"I'm the one and only Fizzarolli. The imp jester at the house of Asmodeus. And his favorite." 

 

The introduction left the two men speechless. They stared at the imp, processing the information. The silence drew out, the only thing that made noise was the clattering pipes and the wind outside, barely audible.

 

"You know, I think it's good that Guy isn't with us," Oliver said, turning to Fred. 

 

"You think? Christ..." Fred muttered, shaking his head, looking in front of him, staring at some point far away. 

 

An imp jester. By God, the world has truly turned crazy. 

 

As Fred moved a bit, trying to get in a more comfortable position, a small jolt of pain came from his thigh. 

 

"So, what were you doing in the cabin? You and your uh...angel?" Oliver asked, carefully wagering the last word, causing both the imp and Fred to look at him. 

 

Fizz started to mouth an answer, but was cut off by Fred, who snorted at the words, the sound turning into a fit of cough. Fuck, he felt like shit.

 

"Angel? Angel?! Ollie, what the hell are you talking about?"

 

"That's what he called the...the other one."

 

"You yourself said it was the fucking prince of lust, and now suddenly it's an angel? Bullshit." Fred yelled out, going to stand up. 

 

As the older man rose, preparing to continue his tirade, a tremor passed through one of his legs. From a tremor, the leg stiffened, then went limp, causing the man to fall back on his ass with a grunt of discomfort. 

 

"Ah...shit, what the...?" He hissed out, grabbing his leg, only to open his eyes in shock. 

 

He's been shot in the leg. Until now, he didn't feel any pain, any indication that anything had happened. But now that the adrenaline wore off, the body started to show the signs of a wound. 

 

"Fred!" Ollie yelled out, scampering to his friend. 

 

Fizz didn't move from his place on the table, staring at the two men. Inside his head, gears turned as he thought over the things that happened over these two days, with a fresh batch of information. 

 

Rabid wildlife, electronics acting up, freezing temperatures, it was all new to the imp, and he felt like the best thing to do was to get back to Asmodeus and get a portal open back to the Lust ring. Once back home, they could forget all about the bullshit they just didn't need in their lives, and get on living free. 

 

After all, they came here only for a bit of a quiet time, alone and away from the everyday bustle. And Fizz wanted to make see the snow. Make a snow angel, if only to tease Ozzie about it. Spend some comfortable time cuddling with the big man. 

 

Gah, to heaven with these two pricks. He gave them a proper scare and a half, almost killed them both, and made his point. Right now, what he needs to do is get back to his blue cotton candy mountain, and get out of this freezing place!

 

Fizz jumped from the table, but noticed far too late that one of his legs was asleep. A prosthetic, asleep? What the?

 

Before he could figure it out, he slammed across the floor, his whole body clattering. His fists tensed up, and before he knew it, he fired another shot from the revolver, still in his hand. 

 

The bullet hit one of the metal shelves propped against the front doors of the building, sending a shower of sparks to the ground. 

 

The ground soaked in a sticky mixture of dust and gasoline.

 

Fizz's eyes opened wide as he saw the shiny dots touch the surface.

 

"Ah spit."

 

-?-?-?-

-Secluded Hunting Lodge near the abandoned Breyerhouse Depot-

 

Jeremiah coughed. His throat felt sore. Was he maybe catching a cold? Nonsense. 

 

Walking down the stairs, into the large common room of the hunting lodge, he had plenty to see.

 

At the two wooden tables sat several of the Forest talkers, out of their iconic hooded jackets, dressed in plain, everyday clothing. 

 

The whole area was lit up by candles and lamps placed around the room, giving it a comfortable, warming glow. Some light poured in from the windows, but not enough to light the room completely by itself. 

 

On one of the tables, lunch was being had. A large pot stood in the middle, from which a dense cloud of steam rose into the air, trailing off toward the ceiling. He could smell the rich aroma of the chicken soup, even from here. Around the pot were many smaller plates and bowls, holding all manner of vegetables and meats. The vegetables were mostly pickled, kept from this year's harvest, although there were a few "fresh" pieces here and there, most notably the cooked carrots, which were used in the soup. Jeremiah could practically taste the sweetness of the orange root.

 

The meat was from both predators and prey, although since the First Flare they had an increase of predator meat, especially wolves. The animals were aggressive, unnaturally so, and despite doing their best to keep out of their way, patrols and hunting parties sometimes didn't have a choice.  

 

There was also fried fish, although there wasn't as much of it here, far from the coast, as it was in their coastal stations. Coho salmon was plentiful, and what little they caught using hooks and fish traps wouldn't hurt the population. During the summer times, some would go to the rapids and try spearfishing, although some of the older members claimed it was done to avoid training or engage in questionable actions. Jeremiah would only scoff at such allegations, knowing that there was no point in preventing young love from blooming into a beautiful flower. After all, it was the same for him, a long time ago. 

 

"Jeremiah, good to see you out of your room!" An older man, in his late forties, greeted the trapper, calling him to sit beside the man. 

 

"You seem to be in a good mood, Sam. What's the occasion?" Jeremiah asked, leaning down to the man, wordlessly refusing his invitation. After all, he had other plans and didn't want to get caught up for too long. 

 

"Ah, nothing much. I'm taking Sasha, Judy and the twins through Pleasant Valley, up to Blackrock. Gonna see how things are going, then relieve our guys in the canyon."

 

"Mhmm...and what about the prison itself? No plans about it yet?" 

 

"Not to my knowledge, no. But they will be dealt with in due time. If not by us, then by Mother Nature." 

 

"Of course." Jeremiah nodded, straightening back up, and tapping Sam on the shoulder. "Best of luck. Watch yourself and others out there." 

 

Sam nodded back, a smile on his face. "You got it."

 

Walking away, Jeremiah turned to the other table, placed close to the wall. 

 

It was full of various tools, as well as metal bits and pieces. A few Talkers were busy fixing some of the gear, one of the girls mending a pair of pants. Others were sharpening blades and cleaning firearms. Despite 'going back to the old ways', some things of the modern world they kept. Some out of necessity, some out of practicality. 

 

Jeremiah looked to the other side of the room, towards the kitchen. He could see fire burning brightly inside the large iron stove, its top full of pots and pans, out of which bubbling and sizzling could be heard.

 

As he walked closer, he overheard a pair talking close to him. 

 

"Hey, have you seen Troy?" 

 

"No, why?" 

 

"He took my comic with him when he and Ashley went up to Pleasant Valley. But I didn't see him since." 

 

"Maybe they are staying in the canyon, or on the coast? Besides, you should worry more about improving your aim than those stupid comic books." 

 

"Ugh...if you see him next time you're out, just tell him to give it back, okay?" 

 

"No promises kid." 

Notes:

Damn this author, can he hold a schedule at all?
Sorry folks, a cold (literal one) hit me a few days ago, and I gotta say, I don't like it one bit. But still, better than Covid.

With that said, I will try to expand more with the next chapter. I love you all, and I thank you for being with the story. I'll try my best to write on, you deserve it.

Have a great week ahead, and good luck with everything in your lives. Dress warmly, and stay hydrated.

Also, on a side note: Would anyone be interested in a new title card thing? If so, what would you like it to have ?

Chapter 14: 14th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text




-The First Flare-

 

A riot broke out as the electrical system went haywire, the inmates not thinking twice about the opportunity. The skeleton crew of prison guards tried their best to fight off the riot, resorting to shooting the inmates when beatings proved to be too dangerous due to the overwhelming numbers.

 

Bit by bit, they were pushed back, constantly thinning the numbers, but being taken down one by one themselves. No one who died that night died peacefully. 

 

As Franklin and the last surviving guard, Jules, pulled back towards his office, they managed to shoot down the last of the inmates chasing after them, expending the last of their shotgun shells on the mob. Barricading in the office, they haven't moved till morning. 

 

When the crimson morning finally did arrive, they were called out onto the roof by familiar voices. Voices of surviving inmates.

 

Five. Five inmates had survived the night, and luck would have it that it was the best of the bunch. Bad apples, sure, but not complete psychopaths. 

 

Vachon led the small group, and he intended to make a deal. A kind of truce. They give them the keys to the front gate, which was locked down, and they won't be harmed. 

 

Franklin thought about it for the better part of the morning, until noon, when they heard a commotion at the gate. Using the gangways running over the roof of the prison, the two men made their way to the gate. 

 

There, outside the prison walls, stood a group of people. Some looked burned, most looked wounded. All looked cold and freezing, their skin pale, blue-purple. They didn't look properly dressed. They looked like they dressed in a hurry, suddenly, in panic. 

 

At the front stood a mountie, the last one on the island. 

The man spoke for all, asking for warmth and safety that the prison provided. 

 

Without thinking, the warden agreed to let them in. 

Within the walls, a truce was formed between the prisoners and the locals. A truce that was put to the test every day.

 

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-&-

-Blackrock Region- Early night- 2nd Day-

 

The man slowly walked through the snow, having made his way through and out of the deep canyon that ran through the region. The only sound carried by the wind was the crinkling of the snow under his boots, which he tried to pull up as much as possible with each step. His condition, however, didn't allow such a feat, and he kept dragging them one after another. 

 

His eyelids closed by themselves, only to be opened back up the next moment as he tried his best to stay awake. Just a few more moments. Just 'till he hits the road, and then it's just a short walk to the prison.

 

Just a bit more...

 

His boots scraped against the asphalt that somehow remained exposed. But it wouldn't be long before the snow covers it all up. The roads, the cars, the dead bodies of people whose luck ran out at the worst possible moment. Sooner or later, a blizzard would fall onto the region and bury it all under another layer of snow. And without the machines, it would remain so till spring. If spring was even a possibility in this new world. 

 

Blinking, he looked up, spotting the path up to the prison, its black walls blending perfectly with the starless night sky hanging above. Still, the moon shined, half hidden by far-away mountains, lighting the way forward. 

 

Just a little bit more...

 

As he neared the gatehouse, a voice came from above. 

 

"Halt! Who is it?!" A strong male voice asked loudly, ripping through the numbing quiet of the night. 

 

"Hoffman." The man answered, trying his best to sound loud and clear. 

 

"Shit, the mountie. And he's all alone. Get the warden. Hoffman, get in, quick!" The voice from above sounded, followed by a faint sound of running across a stone surface. 

 

Hoffman needed no order. He moved by himself towards the gatehouse, passing the large metal gate, locked by a number of chains, sealed since the First Flare.

 

---

 

Franklin rubbed his eyes, sighing as he looked down at his desk. Among the many papers that lost their use as documents about two weeks ago, his notebook was open. A yawn escaped him as he reached for the cup of lukewarm coffee. Taking a long sip, he frowned at the bitter taste. No cream, milk, or sugar, just coffee and water. But that's how things were now. 

 

Rubbing his temple, he reached for one of the papers that were still in use, the inventory list that he made just yesterday. Barely any numbers were in the double digits, and even those weren't exactly too high. And every day, the stocks of food only diminished further, despite their efforts. 

 

By now they cleaned out every bit of the prison for supplies, save for the solitary wing. The entrances were shut down on the night of the First Flare, and they weren't able to get them open since. Not that they wanted to. 

 

Solitary was saved for the worst of the bunch. And seeing how it was Blackrock, the bunch was already as bad as it could be. Kind of bunch no one would miss if they never saw civilization again.

 

And after the First Flare, many never would.

 

For a moment, his thoughts wandered to the few people locked up in the solitary. Having spent two weeks completely cut off from any contact must have driven them crazy. If they haven't died of starvation or thirst already.  

 

The sound of boots hurriedly running toward his office snapped him back to reality. Without knocking, the doors swung open, revealing Jules, whose look instantly locked to the desk he was sitting at.

 

"Frank, they need you at the front gate. Hoffman is back. Alone." 

 

---

 

His vision was blurry, his eyes closing and opening on their own. He was being half-dragged by strong hands holding him from both sides. His head hung low, and all he could see was the beaten path through the snow that they were moving on. At one point, they passed over a cigarette butt, half buried in the snow. In his mind, he thought how that shouldn't be there, but before he could open his mouth, they were already so far away. 

 

The snow was at one point replaced by wet black and white tiles, the pattern making his eyes itch. 

 

"He's in pretty bad shape. Looks like frostbite. Get him out of those clothes and to the bed. That one, in the corner." A female voice gave out orders before he was pulled off somewhere again. 

 

He struggled to process what was happening as he felt his jacket being taken off. Hands removed his boot, his pants, his shirt, before dressing him into a dotted pajama. 

 

When he next opened his eyes, he was lying in bed, a warm cloth on his face, and his hands in warm liquid. Warmth...it felt so strange to feel warm again...but it felt good. 

 

Blinking a few times, he looked around. 

 

It was dark inside the room, but enough light came from a fire burning outside that he could make out where he was. The infirmary, one of several small buildings inside the prison walls. He was inside. He was safe.

 

He wiggled his toes, noticing that he could feel them again. A sigh of relief washed over him, and before he could do anything more, his eyes closed again, darkness overtaking him. 

 

---

 

"Doctor, how is he?" Franklin asked in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake the sleeping patients. The woman next to him bit her lip, looking towards the mountie lightly snoring in his bed. 

 

"Lucky. The frostbite wasn't too severe, and after a good rest, he should be back on his feet without any issues. Which is a blessing because we hardly have any medicine left."

 

"And the girl?" 

 

The woman sighed.

 

"Still nothing. She was out in the wild for what, three or four days? It would be a miracle if she woke up. We did all we could, now the only thing left is to wait and see when will she wakes up."

 

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. 

 

"Foolish mainlander, walking around in those fancy clothes, no protection or anything. What was she thinking?" 

 

Franklin shrugged his shoulders, having repeated this conversation at least twice already. 

 

"She'll tell us when she wakes up. In the meantime, we wait as you said, and pray she recovers."

 

"Oh, I don't think this one would benefit from prayers Frank."

 

"What?"

 

"Earlier today, father Thomas came in, said he would like to pray for her by her side. I didn't object. I mean, he meant well, what's the worst that could happen?"

 

"Mhm..."

 

"Well, not ten minutes after he came in, he charged back out, calling for me. Said that when he started praying, she started to twitch and frown, coughing like crazy."

 

A moment of silence passed as the doctor breathed. 

 

"I come in, and see her sweating bullets. A fever at the worst possible time. I tell Thomas to go while I take care of her, and as soon as he left, the coughing stopped, and the fever dropped down severely..."

 

Franklin was quiet, but a deep frown formed on his face. 

 

Who was this white-haired woman? What secrets did she keep?

 

-*-I-I-I-I-*-

-Camp Office- Moments after Guy left- 2nd Day-

 

"For the last time sir, I'm not your jester companion, nor do I know where he is! Let go!" Moxxie said in a stern voice, sounding like he was on the verge of shouting instead.  

 

Asmodeus groaned at the words, his eyes half open, staring up at the ceiling. 

 

This wasn't his favorite. 

It was that sappy imp that sang love songs in his lustful lounge. Bah, of all the people...

 

Still holding onto his tail, he exhaled, rubbing his forehead as his antennae twitched, feeling for the emotions around him. 

 

As soon as he did so, he frowned deeply, closing his eyes as the unsavory aroma hit him. 

 

Death, pain, and anger were all around him, with even a hint of sadness. It was disgusting and suffocating, so much so that he blocked the emotions moments later. So many negative feelings made his mind cloudy, and worry crept in, embedding itself in his head. 

 

Where was Fizzy in all of this? Where was his little jester imp?

 

---

 

Octavia scurried to the window, peeking outside, trying to discern anything in the increasing snowfall. She managed to pick out Guy charging off towards rocks someway from the building, where a quite familiar mane of white hair flew in the wind. But with each passing moment, it became harder and harder to see. Until one moment, when she saw a massive black... thing ...moving from one side to the other, before vanishing in the whiteness. Despite the distance, she could feel a prickle of strong power coming from it. Dark, wild power. 

 

A shudder passed through her that had nothing to do with the cold seeping in through the smashed window. Taking a step back, she crossed her arms, a faint cloud of steam escaping her. 

 

She had little idea of what happened, and worry crept all over her as she looked around the room. Her eyes darted from the dead man lying on the ground, to the many bullet holes that now adorned the inside of the building. It reminded her a bit of those back alleys of Imp City she saw when driving to the I.M.P office, albeit without any used condoms or trash bags buzzing with flies. 

 

A patch on the man's jacket drew her attention. She wordlessly examined it, leaning down close to it, inspecting the dark, featureless face looming over a pine forest. 

 

"Miss Octavia, what in the world is happening here?" A familiar voice caught her attention. 

 

Moxxie was hopping down the wooden stairs, his tail swishing behind him. His eyes went from the body on the floor, to the broken window, through which some snowflakes were flying in, melting as soon as they touched the floorboards.

 

"I have little idea myself...Wait, what happened up there? What was that thing that grabbed you?" 

 

"Oh, that was Prince of Lust, Mister Asmodeus. He thought I was his jester, Fizzarolli. And he took quite a while to convince, ugh." He scoffed at the last bit, recalling the weird clinginess of the large demon. 

 

"Come again?" Octavia asked in a deadpan voice, staring at the small imp in front of her. 

 

"The Prince of Lust, Mister Asmodeus, is on the sofa upstairs." Moxxie repeated, blinking at the disguised owl like the words he just said made sense. 

 

What in heaven was one of the seven princes of Hell doing here!?

 

Before she could voice that question, a cry came from the window. Turning around, she spotted the other imp, Millie, clumsily pulling herself over the broken window and into the room, landing on the floor with a barely audible  thump

 

A pained expression was stretched across her face, which was full of black and dark red dots that resembled blood rather awfully. Her pants were completely soaked in snow, and she clutched her side, the arm stained in black blood. 

 

"Millie!" Moxxie cried out, dashing to his wife, gripping her with care as she fell into his arms. A cry of pain escaped her, causing Octavia to flinch. 

 

Moxxie trembled as he pulled her closer, whispering how it will be okay, how it will be alright. 

 

The whistling of the wind outside continued, an eerie undertone to the scene. 

 

"H-help me get her up." Moxxie asked, his voice shaky. Octavia didn't move, her hands tightly held into fists. 

 

"Miss Octavia, please...help me get her up." He asked again, this time taking his view from his wife, looking up at the girl. She could see that glaze over them, indicating he was on the verge of tears. 

 

Gulping, she reached out, grabbing the wounded imp, pulling her up from her fiancee. Millie clutched at her clothes instinctively, putting in a lot of effort to breathe. Placing her arms around the smaller girl, pulling her close to herself, she felt the fast, yet weak heartbeat against her chest.

 

She felt so light in her arms as she carried her up the stairs, Moxxie following closely behind. 

 

"I-I'll get a fire going, a-and we need to find some bandages. I think I saw some in the backpack, just need to pull them out..." Moxxie talked, more to himself than her. Octavia barely listened as she held Millie in her arms, the small imp clinging onto her as a drowning man clutched for a piece of wood. Her Cowichan sweater was stained black, but she didn't notice the stain. 

 

Octavia was so focused on the imp in her arms that she passed the couch without looking, nearing the wood stove, where Moxxie already finished starting the fire, using the pages of a nearby book for kindling, before tossing in a few pieces of wood lying nearby. Already the crackles of fiery tongues filled the room, along with a pleasant warmth. 

 

Octavia kneeled close to the stove, still holding onto Millie. Moxxie pulled the backpack she was carrying towards them, before opening the cover and diving right in, only his digitigrade legs and his tail poking out as he rummaged within the depths. After a few moments of shuffling inside, he poked back out, holding a large piece of bandage, and a small sewing kit. 

 

"P-please place her down there, I'll patch her up."

 

---

 

Asmodeus shifted slowly from his position on the sofa, quietly observing the trio in front of the wood stove. The two imps, who he was familiar with, and a girl with a rather obvious disguise. Well, obvious for him at least. Any regular mortal wouldn't notice anything wrong or different, even if they were to stare at her for an hour or more. 

 

Something, however, seemed awfully familiar about her. Yet, it was just out of reach for the prince of Lust. 

 

Now sitting on the sofa, he tried standing up but found his legs unwilling, and his side burning. Glancing down, he spotted the large white bandage that went around his midsection, with one place sporting a faint dark spot. 

 

Ah yes, the wound from yesterday. It was a surprise that it still hurt. Usually, such primitive human weapons could barely scratch at someone like him. But maybe there was more to the blade? Hmm, an interesting question indeed. 

 

As the prince continued to think, his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, and to say that he could use a good meal would be a correct statement indeed. Not only a good meal but also his other form of feeding. 

 

But for that...he'd need his favorite. Or he could draw in the feelings of those around him. However, even with his mind blockades up, he could feel the bitter flavors emanating from them. Those feelings wouldn't be any help to him.

 

With a sigh, he rubbed his face, also trying to fix his cyan mane in the meantime. While doing it, a certain slip of paper lying on the coffee table in front of the couch caught his sight.

 

Grabbing it, he squinted a bit at the tight letters, trying to read the text written in blue ink. 

 

"Ozzie

 

I'm gonna go after those two bastards that hurt you, and pay them back what they owe. I'll try to make it fast, but I can't say for sure how long it will take me. There's some food in the cabinet close to the TV, please don't burn the building down if you try to cook it or warm up the place. If you can, try opening a portal back home and see if you can reach me that way.

 

Love, Fizzarolli

 

P.S. DO NOT COME LOOKING FOR ME OUT HERE! You are in no condition to go out, and if I see you out I'll bite your dick off as punishment >:("

 

Yep, that was his Fizz alright. Such a way with words. 

 

Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the sofa, trying to calm his thoughts. Fizz is alright. There is no need to worry. He will be back. 

 

Opening his eyes, he immediately tried to open a portal in front of him, but as soon as he started to move his hand for the starting symbol, the pain in his side flared, and he winced, breaking the beginning of the spell.

 

Dammit, what was it with that blade?

 

----

-Close by, on the frozen surface of Mystery Lake-

 

The unrelenting wind blew from above, carrying the snowflakes in wild white waves toward the thick ice sheet covering the lake. The flakes would drop down to the ice, sticking to the surface. But just a few meters further, the ice was cracked and broken, exposing the dark water below. Unruly, unequal waves formed across the length of the hole in the ice that was large enough for an entire fishing hut to be swallowed by the deep blackness of the water. 

 

Suddenly, a dark shape broke the surface, sending a shower of icy water in all directions. A nasty smell of charred and wet fur filled the air as it heaved itself onto the still solid ice, buckets of water washing down from its hulking frame. Blood dark as oil seeped down with the water, but only for a short while.

 

With a single moment of stillness, it huffed, then moved away, running. 

In a matter of seconds, it disappeared into the blinding blizzard, swallowed by the white waves crashing from the sky. 

Notes:

Now I know that the chapter might seem...all over the place and like someone wrote it at a questionable time in the morning, but I assure you, the venerable and probably handsome reader, that this is all necessary for the story to progress at a seemingly normal and equal pace. Apologies for the shortness, which is of course going to be compensated by a long chapter after it :D

Now with that out of the way, two things, plus one other one. Do you think it's time we see what is happening with Loona? Do you think it's time we see what is happening with our drunken buddies on the farmstead? Who is the white-haired woman?

Well, I could answer those questions, but I'm not a big fan of spoilers OR revealing that which is not yet written. So I'll leave you, the smart and charismatic reader, to ponder by yourself what the answers are. (Under no condition is it a banana)

(There's a small reward for those that get it right. Not much, mostly symbolic. But no spoiling. That is not a reward.)

Okay, enough of me bugging you. Have a great start of the week, remember to sleep enough every day, drink plenty of water, look on the bright side of life, and be safe! Love you all!

Chapter 15: 15th

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

-/-I-/-

-Mystery Lake-

 

Cold. Piercing, enveloping, absolute. Inside, outside. I can feel it fill my lungs as I grasp towards the faint light above my head, just out of reach. 

 

There's pressure in my ears. Pressure's across my whole body, like a lead sheet wrapped around my legs and arms, dragging me deeper into the absolute, dreadful darkness. I can't see the bottom .

 

- - - - -

 

*Not now. Not yet. Another place, another time, another way.*

 

- - - - -

 

Loona squinted her eyes, trying to spot anything under the moving waves. There was nothing in the black murky water. She blinked, once, twice. Snowflakes stuck to her face, melting on the skin that grew numb. 

 

Then, a glint. A small spark, looking like it glowed right under the surface of the water. 

 

Without thinking, she reached down, trying to grab it. Her hand disappeared in the water, up to her wrist, up to her elbow, up to her shoulder. 

 

She felt something solid brush against her fingers, but she couldn't see it. Before it could slip away, she gripped at the thing, pulling up. It didn't give any resistance, but it felt heavy. 

 

As she neared the surface, she thought the thing would come into view. But the surface was still murky black, without anything in sight. 

 

Right as her wrist got out of the water, so did the thing she was pulling up, breaking the surface as it got into view. 

 

She was pulling up Guy by his jacket!

 

The man was horribly pale, his skin almost gray-blue in color. His clothes were soaking wet, water draining from every part of him. 

 

Loona barely had the time to process his appearance. With both hands, she grabbed him, pulling him up and onto the ice, away from the gaping hole. Her hands were numb as she tried to pull him up onto his feet, with little success. 

 

"Fuck, come on you bastard, you're not dying now!" 

 

Putting in all of her remaining strength, she pulled back. Bit by bit, she heaved him onto his feet.

 

---

 

He felt heavy on her shoulders as she dragged him with her, away from the hole, across the ice. The snowfall made her eyes hurt, the shifting white waves blinding and irritating. 

 

She kept going forward, unsure of where exactly she was going. The water that soaked from Guy's clothes slowly freezed, covering both in icy shards. 

 

Such damned cold, not even the kennels of the orphanage were so freezing. She couldn't feel her toes, and her fingers were equally numb. Her mind screamed to find a warm corner to crawl into and escape this constant battering  cold ...

 

Loona barely registered her boots crunching through the snow instead of scraping against the ice. They were no longer on the lake. 

 

Squinting her eyes, she made out a dark shape in the distance in front of them. Whatever it was, it was better than nothing.

 

---

 

The dark interior of a small cabin smelt of dust and damp wetness of wood. Everything inside was still, like a picture. The small windows barely let in any light from the outside, the snow drifts on the window frame blocking the view. Occasionally, a quiet creak would pass through the structure, the wooden construct announcing its age to no one in particular.

 

The rusty doorknob whined as it was pressed downward, the door being pushed open. The darkness was dispersed by the rays of light flowing inside, snowflakes flying in along them, landing on the floorboards and the aged carpet, melting as soon as they touched them. 

 

Just as soon as the door opened, so it was closed shut again, the hinges creaking as they moved. The whirling whistling of the wind died down, stuck outside, only able to circle the outer walls like a hungry animal. 

 

Loona pushed to the single bed placed in the corner of the room, breathing heavily, panting. With a groan, she moved Guy onto it, the man falling face-first onto the mattress. 

 

Cupping her hands, she blew on them, rubbing them hurriedly together, trying to heat her numb fingers. Her eyes moved from Guy to the rest of the room, trying to focus in the dark interior. 

 

A glint. A potbelly stove, standing in the corner across the bed. Its door was slightly ajar, revealing the pitch-black inside. Beside it, a wooden crate full of logs and sticks. 

 

Loona kneeled in front of the stove, hurriedly picking through her pockets, looking for her lighter. By Lucifer, where was the damned thing?

Finally, after rummaging through one of the inside pockets, she felt the small metallic shape. Pulling out the worn-out zippo lighter, she looked at it for a moment, at the sticker of Blitz's company clumsily stuck across the side. She hadn't had a cigarette since they came here. Did she have any left? Bah, no time to think about that. 

 

Dropping a log and a few sticks inside, she took a small tinder plug from the bottom of the crate. Holding it over the lighter, she struck the tinder. Once, twice, the flint threw sparks, but no flame rose. Cursing a litany of insults that would make Moxxie faint, she flicked once again. The sparks flew, and a moment later a weak flame rose. Despite no wind flowing through the small cabin, it shuddered but still burned. Its tip engulfed the dry tinder plug, and moments later the flame grew, the wood burning up quickly. 

 

Tossing the plug into the stove, she gulped, watching as the small flame grew, completely engulfing the plug, and spreading onto the nearby sticks. She continued to stare at the flickering flaming tongues as they moved, feeling the soft warmth on her face growing hotter as the fire consumed the wood, turning it bright red. Instinctively, she reached out towards the fire, warming her fingers, the warmth bringing back a sense of feeling into the trembling digits. 

 

Turning from her place in front of the stove, she looked at the still figure of the man lying on the bed. The water soaking his clothes now soaked the sheets beneath him too. A quiet, slow sound of water droplets dripping onto the floorboards spread through the cabin, barely audible above the crackles of the fire. 

 

Was he even alive? Was dragging his body all this way a waste of time? 

Standing up, Loona walked over to him, turning over his body onto its back. His face was dark, gray-blue from the freezing cold that he's been exposed to in a short time, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open. 

 

Despite having no idea how to treat someone that fell into a freezing lake, she could guess some logical things to do. 

 

She started taking off his clothes, tossing them close to the stove. First the jacket, then the red sweatshirt. The boots, then the snow pants, beneath which was a pair of wool longjohns. All of it was tossed onto a growing pile of wet clothing. Only a partially dry undershirt and boxers were still on the man. Deciding that the boxers won't be needing to come off, she grabbed the undershirt, pulling it up. 

 

As she lifted it from his torso, a chilling sight came into view, the chills having nothing to do with the cold that still clung inside the small cabin. 

 

He looked like he hadn't had a proper meal in some time. The ribs were barely visible across the skin, and there was little if any fat on his belly. The wiry muscles, however, showed there was still strength in the body, despite the conditions.

 

Seven thick, red scars ran from his collarbone, across his chest, down to his midsection, trailing off somewhere around his navel. They looked deep, fresh, and painful. 

 

Loona froze, staring down at the ugly picture. She had seen plenty of bad, nasty stuff despite her age, but this looked so much worse. 

 

Her eyes moved across the ruined skin, which barely showed any signs of healing or recovery. Watching over his shoulder, she spotted a small incision. A part of the skin and meat was missing like it was hacked off. The wound was clean however, the water having washed out all of the blood. 

 

The rosary hung around his neck. She eyed the item suspiciously. She hadn't touched it while she took off his clothes, but now she wondered...

 

Carefully reaching out, she pressed a single pinkie against the crucifix. 

Almost immediately she pulled back as a searing hot pain hit her. She could feel the heat spread through her finger, and she rubbed the pained spot. It was almost like putting her finger onto a burner, like some kids did without knowing what followed. 

 

Not only that, but she could feel her disguise shaking up, but only momentarily. 

 

So the stories were indeed true. Fuck.

 

---

 

After binding the wound with a strip of torn cloth, careful not to touch the rosary again, she laid him out in front of the stove, onto the soaked blanket. The warmth did its job, steadily drying out the blanket and the clothes she spread out. Having dumped all of the sticks and logs from the wooden crate into the fire, and then the crate itself, she grabbed the pillow from the bed, using it as a cushion as she sat down against the wall close to the stove. Having bandaged both his and her wound, she could finally rest for a bit.

 

The fire crackled as the heat spread across the small room, fighting against the looming cold that wrapped around the wooden walls, trying to get in. 

 

Finally sitting down after spending hours on her feet, Loona let out an exhausted sigh. This day couldn't get any worse! (Not that she wanted to jinx it).

 

She had no idea how far away she was from Octavia and the M&M's, nor how far Blitz and the owl prince were either. This was supposed to be a quick thing, in and out fast. But with each hour that passed, she felt like this would not end so soon. 

 

Fuck, where were those cigarettes? Now that she could finally sit down, Loona felt that one was indeed in order. 

 

Rummaging through her jacket, she managed to find the small black box. Opening it, she rolled her eyes, frowning at the sight of only one single cigarette inside. 

 

Growling, she put the box back in the jacket. She didn't  really  need that cigarette, she could wait a little longer. Right?

 

---

Time passed. Was it half an hour or five, neither of them knew. Guy was still out cold, and Loona dozed off with the sound of crackling flames in her ears. The wind continued to howl outside, trying to force its way in through any opening, small or large. Light from the outside grew dimmer, the day passing out. 

 

---

 

Loona twitched awake. She was met with a dark room, barely lit by the dimming embers. Shadows danced slowly across the walls and the floor, giving it an eerie feeling. 

 

Blinking, she rubbed her eyes, smacking her lips. Gah, she had that sleep taste in her mouth. Gross.

 

Glancing over to the stove, she saw that Guy was still lying still in front of it. With a sigh, she got up, stretching out. Her skin prickled, and she felt stiff from sleeping in a bad position. 

 

Looking around, she tried to find something to toss into the stove, not wanting the fire to die out completely. Even with the embers still burning, she could feel the cold munching on the tips of her fingers and toes. 

 

A wooden chair stood nearby. Walking over to it, she grabbed it and began to break it down into pieces small enough to fit the stove. The sound of breaking wood didn't seem to wake the man up, much to her concern.

 

If he really was dead, then they were on their own. And there seemed to be more people in this place than they first thought. Who were those people? And was that everyone, or were they a part of a bigger group?

 

Crouching in front of the stove, she tossed the broken pieces of the chair inside, blowing into the embers. Their glow shined brighter for a moment before small flames rose up to feed on the wood. 

 

Her stomach growled as she closed the stove. Ugh, typical. Solve one problem, and another one pops up after it. 

 

Rummaging through her pockets, she didn't find anything edible. She made a small mental note to keep something on her at all times in the future, for exactly this situation. 

 

As she thought about it, she wondered if Guy maybe had the same idea. Looking over to his jacket drying close to the stove, she decided to give it a try. 

 

Rummaging through the pockets, she found plenty of stuff, but little of it of use. Bits of cloth, some matches (which were ruined from the water, earning themselves a toss into the stove), a few folded pieces of paper (equally ruined by the water), and a Bic lighter that seemed untouched by water. 


Finally, as she searched through the inner pockets, she came across two energy bars. Wrapping one open, she hungrily munched down on the stale bar of chocolate, nuts and raisins. It wasn't much, but it was something. As her fingers grabbed the wrap of the other bar, she stopped. Should she leave it for Guy? 

 

Hmm...maybe. Not like she won't be able to eat it later if he doesn't anyway. He would probably leave it for her if he was awake. 

 

...

 

"Please don't be dead." She whispered, putting the energy bar onto the window sill.

 

---

 

Guy walked. Where, he didn't know. Why, he didn't know. 

Everything around him was a blur, kind of like a poorly zoomed photograph.

 

There was...green, resembling the tree canopies. And high above...bright blue, like a clear sky. 

 

Something shined on his left. It felt close, for the heat warmed his entire left side. He tried moving to face the shining thing, but it was like he was glued in place, still walking forward. 

 

Was it a minute or hours that he walked like that? His mind floated, unsure of what to think or focus on. No matter the time passed, it began to darken. Everything around him, save for that shining to his side, dipped in color, darkening and becoming different shades of black. 

 

In the distance, somewhere to his right, he could hear something. 

Pricking up his ears, he tried to discern the noise. 

For a moment, there was silence. And then, a faint noise of something breaking. Something wooden. 

And again it sounded, this time a little louder, a little closer. 

Then, silence... on the edge of his vision, a pair of crimson circles lit up.

 

The third sound of wood breaking sounded so close and so loud like it was right next to him. It shook him, and in the next moment, he felt himself being pulled away. 

 

And just like that, Guy was awake. 

 

His eyes opened to the dark, unknown interior. He lay still, only his eyes moving as his thoughts recollected the time before he woke up. They just arrived at the camp office, and then what?

 

To his left, just out of sight, a fire crackled inside a potbelly stove. Guess that was the shining he saw in his dream...

 

As control came back to his body, he moved his fingers, which felt stiff and heavy. They brushed against bare skin. His skin. 

 

Hold on, was he...naked?

 

Moving his hands up, he felt along his thighs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his underwear. Alright, not completely naked. A relief to be sure. 

 

His fingers moved up further until they touched the damaged skin. Ah, the scars. There they were. A constant reminder, just for him.

 

"Fuck, you're awake!" He heard a familiar voice shout to his right. Moving his head, he saw the gray-haired girl standing awkwardly over a broken wooden crate. Her red irises seemed to glow faintly in the darkly lit room. 

 

"I am?" Guy asked, blinking a few times, wondering what the glow was.

 

Trying to sit up, he felt something tugging at his left shoulder. Checking to see what it was, he was met with a torn-up rag tied tightly around his armpit, with a slight red stain on it. Was he hurt? Probably...

 

"Hmm...where are we?" He asked, inspecting the makeshift bandage. It didn't hurt, much. Only when he touched it. 

 

"A cabin near the lake. I got us here after pulling you out of it." Loona said, picking up the pieces of the broken crate, walking closer to him. As she did, he felt uncomfortable, trying to move away on the blanket. 

 

"A-and my clothes?" 

 

Loona nodded behind him.

 

Scampering to his feet, he scurried toward the clothes laid out close to the stove. The wooden floor felt cold on his soles as he put on the layers of clothing onto himself. Most of it was dry, though the boots and the jacket still needed some time to completely dry out. Though as he looked at his jacket, he noticed something that caused him to hum. 

 

"Hmm...Did you go through my pockets?" He asked, looking back at Loona, who was tossing the last bits of wood into the open stove.

 

"I was hungry!" She exclaimed in a surprisingly high tone.

 

Guy rolled his eyes, not answering. Instead, he checked the pockets to see what was missing. 

 

"Did you eat the lighter too?" He asked in a mock voice, throwing a half-serious look at the girl sitting on a pillow. She rolled her eyes, an annoyed growl escaping her as she looked to the side. 

 

Guy chuckled, standing up from his place in front of the jacket.

 

"Relax, it's okay...So, how long was I out?" 

 

"I don't know... A few hours? I'm not sure how much time passed."

 

Guy stretched in place, warming up his limbs. 

 

"Yeah, this place will do that to ya, no phones or clocks working. And the sun being hidden for most of the day."

 

Loona only let out a short 'mhm' as an answer. Grabbing something from her jacket, tossing it to Guy. 

 

Catching it, he opened his hand to reveal his lighter. He gave it a quick test to see if it worked. Surely enough, the flint threw a few sparks, and the small flame rose instantly.

 

"Ah, good, it still works." 

 

"How can you be in such a good mood?" Loona asked, her voice irritated. 

 

"How could I not? My lighter is working, and both of us are safe..."

 

"But you almost DIED drowning in that stupid lake!"

 

Guy stood in silence, clutching the lighter. 

 

Ah yes, now it came back to him. The camp office, the hooded figures, the bear, the lake. 

 

---

 

"Who were those guys?"

 

"I don't know Loona, first time I saw them too."

 

The two were sitting close to the fire, each to their own. The wind outside didn't seem to let up, and the snow still fell. At least the crackling of the flames made it easy to ignore the constant whistling. 

 

"You think there's more of them?" 

 

"Probably? I mean, I don't know. Best to be on guard though. We'll see about it all once we get back to the camp office. We shouldn't be too far, it will only be a few minutes across the lake."

 

Holding the energy bar in his hand, he opened the cover, pulled out half of the bar, and tore it off. Reaching out the half still in the cover, he bit into the other part. 

 

"You wanna?" He offered between two munches. 

 

"Nah, I already ate the other."

 

"So? I can't finish all of this on my own." Guy joked, taking another bite. It didn't taste like much to be honest, although there was a hint of sweetness in it. 

 

Loona looked at him, before rolling her eyes and grabbing the energy bar from his hand. 

 

"Thanks." She said quietly, biting down into the meager excuse for a meal. 

 

"Don't worry about it. You were hungry, and I wasn't here. Kind of you to leave this one for me though. Thanks." 

 

"Mhm..."

 

The two continued to eat in silence, neither knowing what to say and one not wanting to talk anyway. 

 

In the morning, if weather permitted, they will go back to the camp office, and see what to do next. By then, 

 

-*-II-*-

-Carter Hydro Dam- Noon- 2nd Day-

 

The sparks set ablaze the slick trail snaking through the dust. 

Flaming tongues jumped up, scraping against the ceiling as more of the trail was lit up sneaking towards the wounded trio of men and imp. 

 

Fizz pulled back as fast as he could, the sigh of the spreading fire a pure terror for him. Just like in the circus a few years ago...

 

"PUT IT OUT! QUICK!" The older man shouted, trying to get on his feet, but stumbling back down on his ass again. The younger one moved up, stomping onto the still-rising flames before they got out of control, but without much success. The fire spread, catching the loose wooden planks and ceiling panels, devouring them as it grew larger.

 

In moments it engulfed the entire entrance room, and the flaming blaze started to spread closer towards them. 

 

-

 

"We need to get out!" Ollie shouted, grabbing Fred with his healthy hand, pulling him to his feet with a grunt. 

 

His eyes darted from the flames and toward that  'imp jester' , which scampered on all fours away from the fire, trying to get up. 

 

"Hey! How did you get in?" He shouted the question, but the imp didn't even notice him. Its eyes were bulging out of their sockets, fixated on the growing inferno. Smoke began to gather, replacing the sight of dirty ceiling with oily black clouds. Acrid, suffocating smell filled Ollie's nostrils, and he had to cough. Hunching down, he breathed shallowly, panic rising from inside.

 

"Ollie! Over there!" Fred shouted, pointing somewhere behind them. 

 

An entrance to the dark corridor that seemed to lead downwards stood some way away, lit up by the encroaching flames. 

 

"Come on, let's go!" Ollie shouted, pulling Fred onto him, the pair shuffling towards the salvation. 

 

As they reached the entrance, Ollie looked back. The flame spread into the room they were in, following the lines of gasoline stretching out on the dusty floor. 

 

And that imp jester still stared into the inferno, terror on its face, its back against the wall. 

 

"HEY! HEY, GET OUT OF THERE!" Ollie shouted, but again it was without a response. 

 

"Screw it, let it burn, the damned thing is probably fireproof anyway!" Fred shouted, pushing for them to move on, away from the blaze. 

 

But Ollie continued to stand in the entrance, his face half lit up by the flames that pushed closer with every wasted moment. His mind races as he weighed the options, questioning what he should do. 

 

Run with Fred, leave the creature to fend for itself? Or help it, and escape together, risking trouble down the line? 

 

Ah, fuck the good Samaritan!

 

"You go, I'll catch up!" He shouted, removing Fred's arm from around his shoulders. He could hear his calls to come back as he rushed towards the petrified creature that he fought with not even an hour ago. 

 

He could feel his skin growing hot and dry, his clothes becoming warm and uncomfortable. As he crouched next to the shaking imp, he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his nose. 

 

"Hey, come on, we gotta get out of here." He said in as calm a voice as he could muster, gently shaking and pulling at what he assumed was one of the creature's shoulders. Still without a response, it only continued to stare at glaring flames, its nails scraping against the floor, creating small dents. 

 

Gulping, Ollie shook it again, this time with more force. Panic and bile rose in his throat with every passing second, his breathing frantic as he felt the heat increasing. 

 

Ah, fuck the gentle approach. 

 

Frowning, he reached for the creature's face. In the next moment, he gave it a solid slap across the cheek. Before it could react, he pulled by the oversized hoodie towards him with all his strength, effectively dragging it with him toward the dark corridor. 

 

At first, Ollie dragged by himself, but soon the imp regained his senses, shaking from his grasp, stumbling onto his feet, and following closely behind without a word. Or so Ollie thought at first. Rather quietly, he could hear a few words being muttered. 

 

"Fuck you Blitzo"

 

*A question for another time.*,  Ollie thought as the two reached the entrance. 

 

Walking down the flight of stairs, they soon left the light of flames behind them. As it became darker, the faint glow of the imp's eyes became more profound, being the only source of light in the darkness, but not enough to make it easy to look. 

 

Fred was some ways ahead, steadily limping forward while holding himself against the wall of the narrow corridor. As they reached him, Ollie turned to the still silent imp. 

 

"You packed any flares in that bag?" He asked, motioning at the duffel bag clinging to the imp's back. 

 

The imp looked at him, the glow from his eyes shining over his face for a moment before he moved his gaze toward the bag. Opening it with an audible sound of a moving zipper, he rummaged through it, the metal prosthetic whirring as it extended further and further. 

 

While the imp searched, Fred looked to Ollie, then to the duffel bag.

 

"That bag looks familiar. Like the one from the camp office."

 

"Fred..." Ollie started but was quickly cut off.

 

"And I reckon the stuff inside is ours too. Fucking thieving..."

 

Before he could end the sentence, Ollie grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to the wall. The imp continued forward as if he didn't hear any of it. 

 

"Listen old man, stop pushing the limits, alright? We're in over our heads right now, and the last thing we need is fighting each other."

 

Fred tried to push back, staring knives at his younger friend, but Ollie's grip was firm. 

 

"Be the wise one, as I know you can be. Drop this for another time, please. Can you do it Fred?"

 

Ollie stared, not letting go, waiting for the answer. Moments passed, and the frown didn't move from Fred's face. 

 

"You and I are gonna have a long talk after this." He uttered, his teeth grinding. 

 

---

 

Fizz fumbled through the bag, his fingers rummaging through the clothes, jars, plastic wraps of random sweets, bottles of water, a dildo...

 

Wait, a dildo? He didn't pack that!

 

As he felt more around it, it soon became clear that it wasn't a dildo. Gripping the firm object and pulling it out, it revealed to be a road flare.


Fizz twirled the object for a few moments, his mind stuck between now and before. 

 

The blazing flames still burned in his mind, but instead of the drab walls and ceiling of the abandoned dam, the place that was on fire was a large, worn-out circus tent, it's top high up in the sky.

 

"Ah, there it is, thank youuu..." the younger man cut his burning train of thought short, taking the flare from his hand. 

 

He grasped the white cap, twisting it and pulling it away, before striking the red cylinder at the place where it was moments ago. 

 

Out of the top of the flare, a few red sparks sputtered, followed immediately by a bright red flame searing forth, lighting up the dark corridor with a shuddering crimson light. 

 

The younger man lifted it high above his head, looking down the corridor. Wires and loose pipes littered the floor, but a narrow piece of it was devoid of any dust like someone passed here not too long ago. 

 

"Okay, we just gotta follow the trail to the exit, and then we can decide what to do next. Fred, how's your leg?" 

 

"I wouldn't mind a crutch, but I'll live. It'll take more than a bullet to take me down."

 

"We'll probably find something further up the dam. You, Fizz right? You doin good?" The younger man asked, turning his attention to the imp now. 

 

Fizz looked at him, seeing the mark his punch from yesterday left, lit up by the red flame. 

 

His joints hurt, he wanted to lie down, and most of all he wanted to go back to Asmodeus. But complaining about any of that won't do him any good. 

 

With a short grin, he nodded. 

 

"Good as new."

 

---

 

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-&-

-Blackrock Penitentiary- Morning- 3rd Day-

 

Suddenly, he was awake. His eyes barely opened, the view blurry and unfocused. He felt like he was drifting on the verge of falling asleep again. 

 

A sound stopped him from closing his eyes. It sounded close, and like...a groan of pain?

 

Forcing himself to open his eyes, he was met with the drab walls of the infirmaries patient room. A lone picture of green wilderness hung on it, the only piece of decoration adorning the place. 

 

His gaze moved a bit lower, meeting with the blanket covering him. It was warm under it, nice and snug. The air was a bit chilly on his face, and a part of him wished he could just pull the blanket over his head.

 

But again, the sound filled the small room, and with a grunt of his own, he turned to his side. 

 

Lying in a bed next to him was a woman with a long mane of white hair, almost as white as the pristine, untouched snow of the high peaks. Her face was pale, what from the cold, what from the natural complexion she seemed to have. It had soft lines and contours, with chapped lips and a short, sharp nose. 

 

He had to admit, she looked nice, or at least this one part of her face that he was looking at. Yet, as nice as her face was, there was a pained expression once again on it, a frown creasing her forehead, her chapped lips twisting as she moved under the blanket.

 

Moving the blanket, he got out of bed, planting his feet on the cold floor.

Leaning down at her, he placed the back of his hand on her forehead. It didn't feel like she was burning, so what could it be? 

 

Crouching next to her, he looked to the small nightstand. There wasn't much on it, save for a dead phone and a glass of water. She didn't look like any of the locals, and he couldn't remember seeing her face anywhere else either. When did she end up here? How did she end up here?

 

"Ugh..." The woman let out, causing him to look back. 

 

Her eyes were open, revealing a pair of violent pink irises. She blinked a few times, waking up from what he guessed was a rough dream. 

 

"Good morning." He said, causing her to move her head slightly towards him, her eyes locking with his. 

 

Looking straight into her eyes caused him to flinch, looking away without thinking. What the hell did he do that for? What the hell made him do it?

 

"Where..." She let out, her voice low. 

 

"You're in a safe place." 

 

She didn't say anything to his answer, instead looking down to inspect her hands, looking at them with a curiosity of a small child. They were soft, belonging to someone who never held anything dirty or hard in their hands, save for cutlery or a pen. 

 

He wondered where the doc was. If she wasn't in the infirmary, she was probably somewhere else in the penitentiary, treating to some sudden wound. It would be a good idea to call for her, and for Frank. 

 

Walking off to the doors, he stopped when he heard the woman call for him. 

 

"Where are you going?" 

 

"To get the doc and the warden. I'll be back soon." He said, looking back only a bit before walking off. 

 

---

 

What was this place? Who was that man? 

 

She wondered as she continued to examine her hands. They felt like they didn't belong to her, but each small movement was made by her, so they must be hers. 

 

What happened? Why was she in a bed? 

So many questions, and no one to answer them. 

 

She tried moving a bit more. She felt something wiggle at the end of her body. Those were...toes, right? Yes, toes, her toes. 

 

Pulling the blanket off of her, she saw the rest of her body. She didn't really know what to imagine. 

 

A plain light blue patient garb covered her, going past her waist. It was rather loose on her. Must be a bigger size than intended. 

 

She could only describe her figure as...slender. A bit too slender...

When did she eat last time? 

 

Having enough of all the questions buzzing in her head, she moved to stand up. Her bare feet touched the floor, and she immediately pulled them back up with a short 'eep', surprised by the cold of the tiles. 

 

Looking down at the floor, she spotted a pair of slippers pointing at her bed. Putting them on, she stood up. 

 

Her head moved up, and for a moment, everything felt normal. 

But in the next one, she suddenly felt incredibly weak, like all strength left her. The room started to look fuzzy, and then it began to spin. 

 

In slow motion, she felt herself falling to the side. Her limbs didn't move, her mind didn't think to do anything. She just kept watching as her vision moved lower, lower, lower...

 

Her fall was cut short by something. Someone. She felt a firm grip around her arms. It was...strong, but gentle. Warm too. 

She felt herself being moved, and a familiar face coming into view. That man from just a moment ago. He looked concerned. 

 

"I got you."

 

He got her? What did that mean? 

 

Why did she feel so...tired? 

Darkness seemed to fall over her eyes, and everything became silent. 

 

---

 

"Well, she was out for a few days, of course she is weak. After a good meal she should be better." The doctor said, straightening one of the cuffs on her jacket. 

 

After the woman had passed out in his arms, Hoffman put her back to bed. It didn't take long for the doctor and Franklin to get to the infirmary. 

 

While the doctor checked up on her, Frank was more interested in talking with Hoffman. 

 

"You go to the mine with four men, and only you return? What the hell happened?" 

 

By the time Hoffman was done giving him a quick rundown of how things went, Franklin's face was drained of what little color it had, and the man suddenly looked ten years older. A deep crease stretched over his forehead as he pressed his palms together. 

 

"You were lucky to make it back, you looked like you were going to pass out any moment when the guys brought you in." The doctor said, shifting her attention from the passed-out woman to the mountie sitting close by. 

 

"And you're even luckier when it comes to recovery. All fingers and toes are safe, and you don't look like you'll have any long-term issues. You should count your blessings."

 

Hoffman didn't answer, simply nodding to the words. Now that he said what happened out loud, it felt final and heavy. Four men, dead. Gone. All of them painfully. 

 

And here he was, with only some minor frostbite that didn't even do much. His insides twisted at the thoughts. 

 

A cough broke his train of thought. It was the woman, she was awake again. 

 

The trio gathered around her, watched her wake up from her short slumber. 

 

"Hi again." Hoffman said, smiling slightly while he waved a small 'hello' with his hand. 

 

The woman looked at him, and then at the other two. And with both of them, as soon as their eyes met, Hoffman could see a twitch and a quick look away. 

 

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, looking at one of the hands of the woman. 

 

"I...not too good." She answered, rubbing one of her temples, a slight frown on her face. 

 

"Can you tell us your name?" Frank asked, his voice gentle as if talking to a small kid. 

 

She looked at him like he asked her what type of cheese is the moon made out of. She blinked a few times, then looked to the side. 

 

"I...I don't know."

Notes:

Apologies, sincere apologies about this chapter and its release date. Thing is, there's just a lot of bullshit going on irl that kills the want for writing. Still, it's not fair to you as a reader, and while I can't promise something like this won't happen again, I will try my best to keep it an exception, and not the norm.

Thank you all for, well...reading. Reading your comments is like a warm ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.

As always, I wish you guys all the best. Keep warm, watch that you're not on the wind, and drink plenty of warm drinks :D

P.S Would chapter naming be a good idea? What do you think?

Chapter 16: -Questions-

Summary:

So many questions on all sides, so little answers, even from within.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text





-*-I-I-I-I-*-

-Camp Office-Night-

 

Octavia could feel her eyelids closing by themselves. Her head drooped low, and the sound of fire crackling nearby was just too warm and comforting for the tired owlet. 

 

With Millie bandaged up, she and Moxxie went to a nearby bed, spending an hour or so tightly intertwined as Millie fell asleep. 

 

During that, Octavia had a surprise meeting with the one and only Asmodeus, who had been quiet as a mouse since the trio came upstairs.

 

As soon as he looked her in the face, he leaned his head to the side, drawing a thin smile across it. 

 

"So that's who you are! Young miss Octavia, I knew you looked familiar." The large demon said, still sitting on the couch. 

 

At first, Octavia's eyes opened wide, before she pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing in a mix of mild frustration, disbelief, and general annoyance. 

 

By Lucifer, what in the seven rings of Hell is a KING OF LUST doing here? Things just keep getting weirder and weirder...

 

"King Asmodeus..." She said, giving a slight bow, to which Asmodeus simply chuckled.

 

"Oh, no need for such formalities, this isn't one of those Goetia balls they are so fond of." The prince said. Octavia didn't answer that, simply nodding in response as she continued to look at him. 

 

"Besides, Stolas didn't think about saying hello at all when we last saw eachother, but I think that..."

 

"You have seen him? Where? When?" Octavia cut him off, a spark of hope flaring up in her chest as she held her palms together. 

 

"In my club, about a week or so ago, in a company of a rather...brazen imp." The king answered, with a slight frown on his face from being interrupted. 

 

And as fast as the spark flared up, it was extinguished beneath the wave of disappointment. Of course. Of course they would go there. The ideas that wanted to worm their way into Octavia's mind made her cringe, looking away from the prince. 

 

They haven't spoken again, not until Moxxie finally left the side of his wife, a worried yet caring look on his face as he caressed her hair. With the final pulling of the blanket a bit further up, he turned to the other two demons in the room. 

 

"How is she?" Octavia asked, to which Moxxie first sighed. 

 

"Asleep. She lost a lot of blood, but she'll pull through..."

As he talked, a little something caught his attention. 

Walking over to the table which was as high as him, Moxxie jumped onto it, kicking his feet for a few moments as he pulled himself up. 

 

Octavia wondered what the little imp was doing as she slowly approached the table. 

 

"A-ha!" Came from Moxxie in the next moment, as he put his hand up, in which he seemed to hold a rolled piece of paper. 

 

Jumping down, he unrolled it on the coffee table, revealing a yellowed map of what Octavia guessed to be the Great Bear Island or at least one part of it, seeing as only the part of the map showed the coast, with the rest filled out by winding rivers, mountain chains, and names of specific places written in bold letters. 

 

Moxxie looked at it for a moment, before pointing with his finger almost in the middle of the map. 

 

"If I understood Guy correctly, we are in the Mystery Lake region, which puts us here. And that town we were at yesterday, Milton, is over..." He said, looking for a name on the map "...here." He finished, having found the town. 

 

Octavia looked for a moment at the name of the town, before her eyes drifted to the thin snaking line representing a road. It went in two directions from the town, one towards "Keepers Pass-South", where it split into two roads leading their separate ways. 

 

The other road lead away in the opposite direction, and to the end of the map, with only the words "Towards Far Range" giving any idea as to where exactly. 

 

Fuck, why didn't they have a full map of the island? 

Scoffing with frustration, Octavia followed the road that was actually on the map. 

 

The fork split off into two different regions, the northern one leading to "Keepers Pass-North", ending at "Blackrock Region". 

The southern led into "Pleasant Valley", passing through "Thomson's Crossing" before connecting through a tunnel, again off the end of the map.

 What? What kind of idiot made this map that only showed a piece of the island? The closest region to the tunnel, "Desolation Point", was a bit lower on the map. Through it ran a coastal highway that seemed to run along the entire coast of the island or at least the part shown on the map, the last region that showed the highway being the "Bleak Inlet" 

 

*Ugh, these names sure sound happy.*  She thought as she scratched her head, trying to make sense of this new information. 

 

The place was big. Very big. And Stolas could be anywhere. Maybe not even in a place on the map. 

 

Her eyes moved again to the road leading towards the Keepers Pass.

 

-

 

Asmodeus tried to read the names on the map from his place on the sofa, but seeing as how the imp placed it directly opposite him, it didn't work for him. After a few moments of trying, he exhaled in frustration before trying to stand up again. This time, it seemed to have worked, his legs holding firm as he stood still, waiting to see if he'll need to sit down again. 

 

With a few careful steps, he walked to the other side of the table, leaning over the young Goetia princess and the lovey-dovey imp that was much more serious compared to the last time he saw him in his club. 

 

*Hmm, so the imp pointed there...where could have Fizz gone? We are practically in the center of the map!*

 

His gaze moved from the map to the nearby window. There was naught but darkness on the other side of the thin glass panel, with a few snowflakes sticking to it from time to time.

 

Where was his favorite right now? Was he safe? Was he alright? 

So many questions from all sides. For instance, what was a princess of the Goetia family doing in the human world, along with two imps that he knew more than he liked? The image of the female imp hitting his Fizzarolli over the head with a guitar was still rather fresh in his mind and made his mane turn a few shades darker whenever he thought about it. 

 

"And what is a princess of the Ars Goetia doing here exactly? " He asked, deciding that a few of the questions could be answered here and now.

 

The disguised princess was surprised by the sudden question, giving him a wide-eyed look, before looking elsewhere as that constant feeling of uncertainty emanating from her doubled in intensity. If she lied, he'll know. 

 

"I, uh..we are...we're looking for my dad. Uh, prince Stolas I mean, your highness..."

 

"You and the imps?" Asmodeus asked, nodding toward Moxxie, who gave him a frowning look, his hands curled slightly into fists as he held them on the table. 

 

"Yeah, I...I asked them for help with finding him." 

 

---

 

 

So far everything was true, despite the uncertainty of her voice. Asmodeus softened his expression a bit. He didn't want to scare the princess, especially not now that he learned these few new precious pieces of information. 

 

Stolas missing for a week, and no one noticing? Is the royalty too busy backstabbing eachother? Would Paimon be getting an earful, or dishing out one? 

 

Thankfully, those questions didn't bother the king as much, and he was content with having them go unanswered. It wasn't his business how his brother dealt with his underlings. 

 

But young Octavia going up to the human world in search of her father, now that was something. With the help of his Grimoire? How did she get a hold of it? Hmmm...Perhaps Stolas wasn't as diligent with the book as he let on. 

 

-

 

Moxxie fidgeted as Octavia spoke about the disappearance of her father, mostly because he feared a slip of tongue would make their lives a lot worse than they already were, what with them using the Grimoire, as well as being out here without proper disguises. 

 

Speaking of the book, where was it? He didn't remember it being in Octavia's backpack with him. 

 

A worried glance at the large thing leaning against the wall gave way to even more questions. 

 

What if they lost the book? 

Oh crumbs...

 

-//-III-//-

-Pleasant Valley homestead-

 

The house was silent. Not even the crackling of fire could be heard, the last embers dying out hours ago. A weak light glowed on the horizon, barely visible behind the mountains. Morning was coming, slowly but surely.

 

Morten snored, his face on the table, his hand gripped around an empty glass. There was no sleep in that head, just blackness that would make him feel as if no time at all passed when he woke up. 

 

Rudy hadn't let out any noise from his place of rest, a wooden chair filled with all sorts of pillows. His head was full of different moments and pictures, all pleasant and lit up by a warm glow. 

 

Stolas' eyes were half open, staring unfocused at the ceiling. 

Despite no sound leaving him, his mind was like a beehive, buzzing and roiling as he questioned no one in particular, just mostly himself. 

 

Was the last night real? Was the talk at the porch...real? Was all of this just a dream, some half-baked fantasy? 

 

He looked down at the imp sleeping on top of him, hugging him. He could feel his tail wrapped around his leg like a thin snake, moving ever so slightly every so often.  

 

His little imp. Despite the time spent together, he still knew little about the clown turned killer-for-hire. But despite that lack of knowledge, from what little he did know, he was sure he wanted to spend more time with Blitz. More time together, more than just the sex, even if it was fantastic. 

 

Blitz frowned slightly in his sleep. His face contorted as if he was having bad dreams. 

 

Stolas moved his hand, caressing the back of his head, stroking at the base of his horns. 

 

"There there...everything's all right..."

 

The quiet words seemed to work, as his face softened in the next moment, his frown gone. Stolas continued to stroke the back of his head, staring lovingly at his boyfriend. A title Blitz would surely deny if he was awake just now. 

 

But a prince can dream, even if awake. Especially if he knew that this can work if they just talk and be honest. 

 

It had to work. 

 

-?-?-?-

-Secluded Hunting Lodge near the abandoned Breyerhouse Depot-

 

Jeremiah closed the front door behind him, closing off the warmth seeping from inside. 

 

The cold seldom affected the Talkers, what with their thick coats and demanding way of life. Still, the trapper could feel his cheeks and nose getting pinched by the freezing temperature. Almost like a greeting from Mother Nature herself. 

 

A fluttering of a flag caught his attention. On the flagpole outside the lodge once stood the proud maple leaf of Canada. Now, the banner of the Forest Talkers flew high and proud, just as the Talkers themselves were. Dedicated, strong, and proud of what they fought for. 

Even if that fight spilled the blood of other people. Even if it took the lives of other people. 

 

Jeremiah looked at the flag in silence for a few moments. He frowned. 

Did he think this through correctly? 

 

The heavy feeling in his chest answered that question for him. There is no more time to think things through. He needs to act now.

 

With a sigh, the old man started walking, his boots crunching in the snow.

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-Blackrock Penitentiary- Morning- 3rd Day-

 

"Soo...amnesia?" Franklin asked.

 

"Yes, looks like it. She got off lucky in my opinion."

 

"Lucky? She doesn't even know her name!"

 

"It's better than drooling over yourself without being able to say a single coherent word. Or you know, being dead."

 

Franklin groaned in response to the doctor's words. Of course she'd say something like that. It was like this island attracted only the most cynical, pessimistic, and dour of people, minus a few exceptions. 

 

"Is there anything we can do?" 

 

"Well, if you know someone from her life that she could see or something particular that she used to do, there's a chance."

 

Of course, neither had any idea who the woman was, or what she used to do. Only that looking her straight in the eye didn't sit well with them. A fact both chose to keep for themselves. 

 

"What about her stuff? Did she have anything on her when they found her?" Hoffman asked, stirring his coffee. 

 

He's been sitting quietly with them around the table in the prison cafeteria, sometimes taking a sip of the steaming drink. 

 

Franklin hummed at the question, scratching at his beard. 

 

"Well, I don't recall there being any documents on her. Not even a wallet. Come to think of it, I think she only had her phone and the clothes on her back?" 

 

"You're kidding me?"

 

"That's what the guys who found her said."

 

"And who found her?"

 

"That matters why?" 

 

"It's not exactly hard to hide something outside the prison, you know? Especially if there is only a select few people going out every time."

 

A moment of silence passed, with Franklin staring at Hoffman, while the doctor cleaned her nails with a toothpick. 

 

"Vachon and his men found her."

 

"And you believe the convicts?" 

 

"I trust Vachon enough with things of that nature. If he stole her stuff, I doubt he'd steal the ID card or Drivers license."

 

"He has a point you know." The doctor chimed in, not moving her eyes from the toothpick. 

 

Hoffman didn't answer, instead grumbling as he took another sip of the bitter drink. 

 

After a few more moments of...passable silence, he exhaled. 

 

"So what do we do about her?" 

 

"Well, we could put her on some easy and warm jobs. Maybe the kitchen? There's not exactly a lot to choose from." Franklin said, tapping his fingers against the table. 

 

"We'll figure something out Frank. I think the more important thing right now is what  you  intend to do, Hoffman." The doctor said, focusing the attention on herself. 

"Now that we have the code for the workshop, what does the last Mountie on the island have planned next?" 

 

"Dorothy, the man came back just last night..."

 

"And he's proven that he's not made of sugar and that his mind is clear enough to suspect people of stealing off of amnesiacs Frank. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to hear what the..."

 

"Take the Forest Talkers out." Hoffman said out loud before Dora could finish. 

 

Both Franklin and Dorothy looked at the man like he was wearing a polka-dot dress and called them to a tea party.

 

*God, why did I have to drink that bottle of whiskey then instead of leaving it for now?*  Dorothy thought, while Franklin wished he had a cigar to smoke.

 

Notes:

Apologies for the shorter chapter, having a sort of technical difficulties in figuring stuff out, not to mention rl obligations that like to take all day and then give you muscle pain the next few days.

So, yeah, questions questions questions. Plenty of those, and no one to answer them. Speaking of plenty, there's plenty I wrote down that I need to write down again so as not to forget it.
Why does the day have to have so little hours and why can't I pause time? Swear my life would be so much easier if that was possible. I could just take a whole week in stasis and write focused!
Oh well, it is what it is.

On a brighter note, Tales from the Far Territories is coming soon, that ought to bring in some new steam in this creaking engine.

Wish you guys a great week and hope for understanding.

P.S The map you saw at the beginning of the chapter is not the same map Octavia, Moxxie and Asmodeus were looking at!

Chapter 17: -Meeting new friend(s)-

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text




-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-

 

Guy and Loona walked across the frozen lake, their breaths leaving small clouds of steam behind them. 

 

The morning brought clear weather, without even a single cloud to hide the pink-orange sky that lit up brighter and brighter as moments passed by. 

 

The pair, having rested more or less after yesterday, made their way back towards the camp office, eager to check up on Octavia, and have some proper food as well. 

 

"Why are there houses on ice?" Loona asked, pointing to one of the few fishing huts they passed by. 

 

"Those're fishing huts. It's so you don't freeze yourself while fishing. They also have a stove in them, so you can fry the fish you caught right away, or make yourself some tea." 

 

"But wouldn't it, like, melt the ice?" 

 

"There's a wooden floor under it, and it's a bit above it. Trust me, it's been done for decades. The ice won't suddenly start melting now, especially in these conditions."

 

"Mmh..."

 

They continued towards the office, leaving the huts behind, along with a slow, deep creaking of the thick ice. 

 

---

 

*Ah blast!*  Moxxie thought as he peered through the first-floor window, watching disguised Loona and Guy (Who looked rather bluish for a human. Was he always like that?) walking towards the building. A building with a 100% population of demon and 0% population of human. And one of four demons was the King of Lust that stood almost as tall as, what, five Moxxies? 

 

Yeah, time to panic.

 

Moxxie chewed on his thumb as he paced back and forth in front of the window, unsure of what to do. 

 

*Come on come on, there must be something we can do t...*

 

An idea of a solution burst into his mind as he looked at the King of Lust lazily getting up from his place on the couch. 

 

A stupid idea. A ludicrously silly idea. But an idea was better than nothing, right?

 

Right?

 

With a nervous sigh, he approached the King of Lust, one of the Seven Sins of Hell, to say his idea.

 

---

 

Guy looked at the corpses half-hidden by the fresh snow. The exposed skin was nigh-black in color, with dark-crimson streaks of blood here and there across the clothes. The ground around them was clear of any blood, covered by the snowfall from the night. But from what little he did remember from yesterday, he knew the grounds around each of them held plenty.

 

He kept quiet as he looked from one to the other. Sighing through his teeth, he reluctantly leaned down. With careful touches, he grabbed the backpack sticking to the corpse of a man, trying to peel it off. 

 

Loona looked at him from behind but decided it was best to just keep quiet instead of questioning it. 

 

"Can you get that one?" He asked suddenly, motioning to a bit larger corpse a few meters away.  

 

"Oh...uh...sure, yeah."

 

What was the point in stealing these guys' stuff? It's not like they have any money on them. She doubted they even had wallets. 

 

As she turned the corpse lying face-down in the snow, it revealed the pain-filled face of the large woman she stabbed. Her arms were still gripping at her throat, covered in dark blood that froze between her fingers. Under her, the axe she held was buried, the metal giving a faint glint against the morning sun. 

 

Loona kept staring at her face. Now that the woman wasn't staring down at her with hate and malice, it told a different story. Despite the freezing cold, she could make out the wrinkles spread across her face, and two small lakes of freckles on her cheeks. The eyes, once brimming with searing anger and power, were dim and milky, like a fog was pulled over them. 

 

This was different indeed. First time she came back to the bodies of those she killed. To think she single-handedly took out scores of those D.H.O.R.K.S agents like they were made outta tissue paper without as much as a scratch, only to have to put more effort into killing a single woman and leave with a number of punches and wounds. Her shoulder still ached, but luck was on her side. In time, it will heal without lasting effects. 

 

Guy came from the side, taking only a moment to look at the corpse. With a single nod, he leaned forward, taking the axe from the ground. 

 

---

 

No pity. No remorse. They attacked us, wanted to kill us. 

It's...it's okay to kill to protect others and yourself, right?

Right?

 

Thou shalt not kill 

 

And yet he did.

 

Before the thoughts could cloud more of his brain, movement out of the corner of his eyes took his attention first. 

 

It was Octavia, a bit clumsily making her way out of the window and onto the front porch. 

 

Loona dropped whatever she was holding, rushing towards the younger girl. 

 

"Octavia!" 

 

-

 

Octavia was surprised to see Loona rushing at her, relief written over her face. 

 

The older girl almost jumped at her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

 

"Oh fucking Lucifer, I was worried about you." She said so only Octavia could hear it. The disguised princess returned the hug, a weak chuckle escaping her. 

 

"Heh, funny you should mention him..." She said, unsure of how to explain the current situation to her. 

 

*"You have to keep him out as long as possible, and explain to Loona the plan."*  She heard Moxxie in her head, before he turned back to Asmodeus. 

 

"Hmm?" Loonas questioning hum brought her from the thought, and she gave a sigh. 

 

"Okay, listen, I know this'll sound crazy, but..."

 

"Not much could top what happened yesterday."

 

"...but the King of Lust is inside the camp office, and Moxxie has a plan to get him to impersonate him." 

 

...

 

"I'm sorry, you lost me at 'the King of Lust'." Loona said, a blank look on her face.

 

Octavia gave a shy smile, while at the back of her head thoughts of strangling the bowtie imp formed clearer and clearer. 

 

-

 

Guy didn't mind Loona and Octavia standing in front of the building, talking about something (Girl stuff probably). While they did that, he had plenty of time to search up each of the half-buried corpses, hoping one of them would have some kind of map or a note that would help him get a clearer idea of who they were.

 

So far, he found ammunition, bandages, two bottles of alcohol (At least he assumed it was alcohol from the sharp smell), food tightly packed in plastic cases (That smelt like a bunch of herbs and spices when he opened them), homemade arrows (Surprisingly straight), several knives (Blades sharp enough to shave the hairs off his hand perfectly), as well as a pack of playing cards. But no maps, notes of orders, or anything that would give him a clue that could point out where these guys came from. 

 

Did they come after them from Milton? Or from the coast? From the dam? Maybe some other path he didn't know of. Hmm...

 

With his search done, Guy took a look at the winter coats. The few holes some of them had weren't too big to patch up, and despite their weird outside look, they were much better padded than anything he and the guys had in store. 

 

*Taking jackets off of dead people...ugh, good thing my mom can't see me right now.*

 

With the backpacks and jackets in tow, he waved to the girls, calling them to help him carry all the things inside. The jackets needed to be sewn up, and the backpacks needed to be emptied of supplies. 

 

"Good to see you again Octavia. Are you alright?" He asked, motioning at one of the backpacks. 

 

"Hey. No, yeah, I'm okay. Happy to see you both well and...well, alive. And speaking of that, guess who caught up with us?" She answered, grabbing one of the backpacks, dragging it toward the office. 

 

"I'm guessing someone from your group? Moxxie and Millie, right?"

 

"Just...just Moxxie..." She said, a bit distraught. 

 

"Oh...did, did something..."

 

"He didn't say much, and I think it's best he explains it so we know what to do." 

 

"Right..." 

 

Loona kept quiet through the talk, trying to make heads and tails of the Moxxy's idea. Get Asmodeus, the King of Lust and one of the Seven Deadly Sins (Who she had no idea what the fuck he was doing here) to impersonate that little fat twerp of an imp, so that Guy thinks he's a human, and not either one of the main demons of hell, or an overly polite waist-high douchebag with a pegging fetish.

 

It sounded stupid even without saying it out loud, jeez. 

 

---

 

Asmodeus struggled to wrap his head around the little imps idea. Disguise himself as him, who someone else thought was a regular human so that there is no trouble with that guy, whose name was Guy? 

 

The fact he woke up to such silliness didn't make it any better. His mornings usually started much better, but oh well, it is what it is. And whatever  this  was, wasn't a good morning.

 

He had shifted into his second, smaller form, and dressed in some of the clothes the imp fished out for him in out of the drawers, most notably a fleece cowl, a long wool scarf, a ski jacket, a pair of leather gauntlets, a pair of jeans, and a pair of rather large mukluks (At least to a regular human, they were a good fit for the large demon). 

 

Under all those clothes, and with a bit of magic (what little he could use due to his injury), he almost passed for a human! Albeit a rather large human with an unnatural glow in his eyes, which were the only part of his face not hidden by the fleece and the wool. 

 

"Remember your highness, you followed Loona and Octavia from Milton, but on the way you lost Millie, so that's why she's not here, but you trust that she is okay, as she is smart and strong and armed and..."

 

"I got it the second time you explained it all. I'm Moxxie, and I'm a part of the group along with Loona, Octavia, Millie, and the other two that we are looking for but he doesn't know their names, and it's best to keep it that way. I came here shortly after dark, and waited inside with Octavia for the other two to come back.  I got it ." The prince said while straightening out the clothes that the imp picked out for him. They weren't showy and dashing, a stark contrast to what he was used to, but there was no arguing if he wanted to find his Fizz with the help of this human. 

 

All this trouble to keep one man from finding out what they really are. Was he really that important that they couldn't find Stolas without him? 

 

Well, whatever that man was, he was going to find out once he actually meets him. He'll read him like an open book, and see if he's worth doing cosplay for, or if he can simply knock him out and go on his own to find Fizz. 

 

Walking down the stairs, he glanced one last time at the imp staring nervously between the handrail balusters. 

 

It'll be like Fizz with his performances. One big show. He can do it. Of course he can. 

 

He looked out the window at the trio coming towards the building. His gaze moved to the side, spotting a corpse lying face-down on the floor close to him. And as the trio came closer, he could see them dragging several backpacks, and carrying several jackets. 

 

He should probably move that corpse out of sight. 

 

---

 

Guy tossed the jackets through the window, before coming through himself. He took the backpacks one by one, placing them against the wall as the girls kept handing the rest. 

 

"So, where is Moxxie? I'm  dying  to meet him." Guy asked, a grin stretching on his face at the choice of words, causing Loona to roll her eyes.

 

He took his second brush (At this point it was probably more a rough kiss on the lips) with death rather well, and it did surprise him a bit, but he wasn't about to complain. 

 

"Right behind you." A deep, rich voice came from the back, causing Guy to turn around rather quickly. 

 

Before him stood a tall man. A  very  tall man, easily two heads higher than Guy. His clothes seemed a tad familiar, but they weren't what drew Guy's attention. A pair of bright green eyes shined at him behind a tightly wrapped scarf, emanating with curiosity, and something he could only assume to be...power. 

 

"Holy...well I'll be..." Guy was at a loss for words, his jaw loose, his hands hanging loosely to his sides. There was a clump forming in his throat, and the rosary suddenly felt heavy around his neck. 

 

-

 

Asmodeus looked at the man in front of him. He wasn't anything special in terms of looks, neither ugly nor overly handsome. His hair and beard could definitely use a cut and a shave. 

 

The King of Lust opened his mental antennae, feeling for the emotions around him, focusing on Guy. 

 

In a moment, his eyes opened wide, before squirming almost closed, and then blinking a few times to make sure he was seeing and feeling right. 

 

For there was nothing...nothing coming from the man. No semblance of emotion, good or bad. His aura just...wasn't there. 

 

Nothing save a shining light around his neck. 

 

Just what in the name of Lucifer was going on here?!

Notes:

Ladies and Mentlegen, Tales From The Far Territories has officially dropped today! The hype for new content (mostly soup) is rather real!
With that said and done, I also want to mention a few other things.

Firstly, I've gotten a job. That means I'll sadly have less time to procrastinate over the keyboard while thinking up ways to pass the time instead of writing (Don't blame me, it's mentioned in the work tags :( )
Second, last week was excruciatingly full of all sorts of obligations, most notably family-tied (Not Thanksgiving or Black Friday), so apologies for this chapter being so short. (If anyone has a device to stop time, I'll gladly buy it for like, my soul or something)

Thirdly, I love you all, wish you a great week, and advise you to bundle up warmly, as the cold is growing harsher and harsher.
With all that, I'll try to make the next chapter a bit bigger (You guys deserve better than this, sorry.)

Chapter 18: A properly inproper order of a mess

Summary:

Some wish they knew more, others wish they know less, or not at all. All are tired, everything is jumbled.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text





-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-

 

Despite how little of Moxxie he could see, Guy was  stunned

It was like looking at one of those ancient Greek statues, except covered with winter clothes to the point only their  shining  eyes were peeking through. But despite the clothes, the shape and the size of him made it clear as day- This was a strong, powerful man. He kinda had this sort of...aura around him. It wasn't anything visible, just a general feeling Guy was getting from looking at him. 

 

As the moments dragged on, the initial shocked stun wore off, opening the way for a forced cough as Guy pulled himself together. The rosary around his neck felt like a lead weight, further adding to the nervous feeling.

 

"Well I'll be stunned! I mean...nice to finally meet you." Guy blurted out, stepping forward, extending his arm for a handshake. 

 

-

 

Asmodeus only had seconds to compose his inner turmoil as the man moved closer for a handshake with 'Moxxie'. His eyes glanced over the extended hand, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. 

 

Of course! He still had the physical touch to use, to reveal the secret that this man appeared to be. 

 

A grin stretched under the scarf as he put on his acting mask, as he did so many times during the performances in the club. He didn't have to worry! 

 

"It's nice to meet you in person too." He said, gripping Guy's arm with his own, the size difference between the two limbs immediately made clear. 

 

The skin was hard and calloused to the touch, easily felt even through the leather gauntlets. The grip was strong, firm, but not overly pressuring. A proper handshake. 

 

And that was it. That was all the King of Lust could feel from the handshake. No emotions, hidden ideas or thoughts, only that what held onto mortal flesh. 

 

Well, not exactly all. For when the two parted, he felt a small pain. Barely felt. But his eyes immediately darted to the light around his neck. What was he carrying? Whatever it was, it made Asmodeus...curious. Was that the right word? Probably. Yes, the man's...invisibility was concerning, but at the same time, he didn't exactly look like a threat. 

 

But as Asmodeus himself was an example of, looks can be deceiving.

 

-

 

Loona had a hard time believing what she was seeing. King of Lust, one of the most powerful demons in the Seven Circles, dressed in what has to be one of the worst disguises she saw, was shaking hands with a man that was training to be an exorcist just a few years ago. And what was even weirder about the whole thing was just how much Guy seemed to be full of awe and glee, while "Moxxies" expression seemed like he was shaking hands with a bit-too-lively corpse. Wait, why was that the comparison she made? Ugh!

 

"Man...Loona, were you for real when you called him 'Fatty' back at Milton?" Guy asked, a chuckle escaping him as he kept looking at the (disguised) demon, an awe-full smile on his face. 

 

Loona's face drained of what little color it had at the question, her eyes drilling a hole in the middle of Guy's head.

 

"Fatty?" The 'Moxxie' said, raising an eyebrow (He did have an eyebrow under there somewhere right?). 

 

"Uhh..." Was all Loona could say, unsure of what she should be saying. This was supposed to be the  real  Moxxie, at least for Guy. But she had no idea how the King of Lust would act! She wasn't ready!

 

"I mean like, come on, look at him!" Guy continued with glee, circling with his arms around the demon. "I bet he could rip that bear in half!" He said way too joyfully for it to be considered normal. He looked like a kid that got a puppy for a present.

 

-

 

"Uhm...bear?" Asmodeus asked, looking from the disguised hellhound staring through the open window, back down to the human seemingly overjoyed with his presence. Was he drunk or something? He didn't look like it at first. 

 

"Oh, you don't know?" Guy asked, before changing his posture to a more serious one. 

 

"Wait, what did Octavia tell you exactly?" He asked again, pointing with his thumb at the disguised princess awkwardly standing behind the disguised hellhound.

 

The disguised king was silent for a moment, trying to think of what exactly to say that would make sense. Come on, what was it that imp was repeating to him? 

 

Ah screw it, he'll improvise.

 

"I'm...I'm sorry, it's all a bit fuzzy. I'm still a bit drained at the moment..." He said, turning up the theatrics as his words trailed off without a proper ending. 

 

Guys face turned serious as if a switch was flipped. He nodded, the recent giddy glee gone. 

 

"No need to apologize, it's been a tough few days, for all of us. I too could use some rest in a proper bed, and a proper meal too." 

 

-

 

Guy suddenly felt tired. Real tired. It was weird, these mood swings. But as he said, it's been a tough few days. And for him, they have been particularly tough.

 

Guess getting drowned half to death couldn't just be walked off as easily as he thought. 

 

"Speaking of, I think I'll go up and crash for...at least an hour. And eat something too...Girls could you please just put that stuff inside? And that sled there too?" 

 

-

 

They watched Guy slowly walk upstairs, looking kinda like a shambling corpse as the wooden stairs creaked under his boots. 

 

The trio of disguised demons was left alone on the ground floor, silently staring at each other. 

 

Asmodeus was the first to talk, shifting a bit awkwardly as his eyes moved from the staircase toward the girls. 

 

"I'll uh...just get this out of the way." He said in a casual tone, moving to the barricaded doors. A few moments later, the doorway was clear of chairs, boxes and shelves. 

 

"Why don't we go outside for a bit?" He said, again in his deep, rich voice.

 

---

 

"Octavia, what is a deadly sin doing here?" Loona asked in a sort of half-hushed tone. 

 

"Impersonating what should be a human version of Moxxie, I think? Crap, I know barely more than you. All I know is we found him upstairs yesterday, and while I told him why we are here, I didn't ask him the same thing!" Octavia said, throwing her arms in the air as she walked around in the snow. 

 

"Why didn't you exactly? I told you before this place is no Goetia ball or gala dinner, there's no need to keep up appearances. At least when it comes to you." Asmodeus said, pointing at the two girls. He was outside for the first time in two days, and the cold air was rather refreshing.

 

"Well, what are you doing here?" Loona asked, growing annoyed at the situation. Things kept getting weirded, from Guy's sudden mood swings, to now a deadly sin impersonating Moxx, to this fucking cold! They have to stay outside to talk normally, and freeze their asses off in the meanwhile!

 

The disguised king glanced at her, making a slight frown. 

 

"My Fizzarolli and I came here to get away for a bit. Unwind in the nature, hmhmhm..." His voice trailed off into a saucy, subdued laugh. Ugh, of course, the King of Lust is going to be lewd, even in a situation like this. 

 

Wait, did he say Fizzarolli?

 

"Shit, is Fizzarolli up there? Shit, we need to stop...."

 

"Fizz is nowhere near here. He...went on his own to 'deal with' two humans that attacked us two days ago." Asmodeus cut her off, making quotation marks at the specific part. 

 

Silence followed. Loona and Octavia looked at each other, eyes wide as the same thing was on their minds. 

 

"Did...did uhm...did one of them have a...a prosthetic leg by any chance?" Octavia stuttered, tightly gripping the edge of her jacket. 

 

Asmodeus looked at the princess, surprised at her fear-filled mood. 

 

"If I recall correctly, one had a metal prosthesis instead of a leg. And I think one of them was called...Fred?"

 

What little color was in Loonas cheeks vanished, drained by the confirmation that the worst has happened. 

 

"Oh by the fucking Lucifer..."

 

-

 

Moxxie had mere moments to hide himself and Millie from the gaze of the man coming upstairs. Pulling her along with the blanket to the top bunk, he pushed both of them to the far side, against the wall, and kept as quiet as a mouse. 

 

He listened as the heavy footsteps moved closer to where they lay. Then, they stopped. There were sounds of fabric being touched and moved. He was probably undressing before going to sleep. 

 

"Mmh... what's this?" Moxx heard Guy say, but couldn't see what he was talking about.

 

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the quiet tingling of the fire inside the stove. 

 

"Swear I saw another feather just like this yesterday..."

 

-*-II-*-

-Carter Hydro Dam- Early Afternoon- 2nd Day-

 

The trio made their way through the dark, dank tunnels of the abandoned hydro dam, the sputtering road flare the only illumination they had. Occasionally, they could see orange glints far behind them, the raging blaze creeping steadily behind them. 

 

No matter how deep they went, how many bulkheads they passed through and sealed behind them, the fire continued to spread, drawing closer and closer, as if hunting them. The whole place began to feel stuffy and increasingly warm. Ollie unzipped his jacket at first. As they went on, he and the other two took off more layers, beads of sweat glinting as they rolled down the skin. 

 

There seemed to be no end to the winding corridors, breaker rooms and staircases, but they continued to follow the footprints in the dust, climbing over fallen breaker boxes, piles of planks and pipes, exposed wires at every corner, snaking along the floor, or hanging from the ceiling like vines in the jungle.

 

Fred sounded like a steam engine, his breath heavy as he moved as fast as he could behind the other two. The prosthetic was most definitely fucked, but they didn't have time to check. Later. They'll check it later, once they are out of this mess. 

 

If they are out of this mess.

 

Fizz struggled to keep his limbs moving, having pushed them so far today. Which was strange. The stage performances were times more demanding of the things, but it was like they just didn't work properly here. The heat didn't help either, its overbearing pressure clawing at his mind, trying to pry open the memories again. The fire. The smoke. The falling beam. His friend running away...

 

*No, no, no! Focus!*

 

The flare had properly burned itself into Ollie's eyes, like he had been staring at the sun for too long. And his hand was hot, oh so stupidly hot. The sweat drove him crazy as he swapped the flare from one hand to the other, trying to wipe it clean. 

 

Still, he kept moving forward, sometimes walking into a shelf jutting out, sometimes into a chair, but always forward. Comical, in a self-deprecating, dark-humor way. A near-blind man (from the flare) with a shot leg, leading a limping retired officer, and a fire-fearing demon that's not supposed to exist outside fairy tales and consumer media. 

 

To think his biggest problem two days ago was how he hadn't killed anything in a hunt yet. Back then, things seemed so much simpler. But it's easy to look back fondly. 

 

He needs to push forward. 

 

-//-III-//-

-Pleasant Valley homestead-

 

The world felt muted. 

 

Like, the sounds and the lights and the speed. Like someone put a big dampener or a curtain over it. 

 

Morten barely held his eyes open, looking from side to side in his place on the wooden bench. Things were still. Nothing moved, but he could still hear, albeit very quietly, the wind and the creaking of the pipes and the wood sometimes passing through the house. And some sort of...wet sounds? Like someone was kissing. At least he hoped it was kissing.

 

His mouth felt dry. Like a handful of sand was on his tongue. He didn't have the will to change that though. Maybe in a few moments.

 

-

 

Rudy stared at the ceiling. It wasn't a particularly interesting ceiling. But his body was even less interested in moving, or his brain trying to move it. 

 

Wait, what was he thinking about? 

 

Ah yes, he should go to the toilet. He really should go to the toilet.

 

Hmm...

 

-

 

Blitz was woken up by the excess of feathers in his face area, and the lack of oxygen in his face holes. He needed those for breathing and stuff. 

 

He didn't have to guess what, or who, the source of all the warm feathery fluff was. Stolas was lightly snoring under him, each exhale a cute little hoot. At least cute internally. He wouldn't say it out loud. 

 

So...last night happened. Not the drinking, he was used to that. Albeit the alcohol usually wasn't as hammering as this trailer park moonshine bullshit. And there'd be something to snort too. 

 

No no no, all of that was nothing compared to the talk Stolas and he had. 

Like,  THE  talk.

THE confession. The Prince saying things that made no sense to him, but at the time he didn't know what or how to say anything...

 

He did want more. He wanted it so so much. The intimacy beyond the sexual, above the lewd, higher than the lustful. The...the "r" and the "l" words...

 

But at the same time...he feared it. Feared of what might come of it. 

 

Or what might not. 

 

Because of himself. Because of who he was, what he did, and how he did.

 

Ah fucking crap, why couldn't he be more hungover drunk? At least that way the sucky fucky awful things in his life were easier to ignore, push down the flight of stairs, and lock inside the basement. 

 

 But for now, the feathery pillow will suffice. Though he wouldn't say it out loud.

 

-&-

-Safe place?-

 

What was her name? It was logical that she should know her own name, but she didn't. Why?

 

The other people, the...doctor, the warden, and that...mountie? They all looked pale, like her. Though their noses looked rather red and pink. But for some reason, any time they looked her in the eye, they looked away immediately, and she would notice a shiver passing through them. Why?

 

Oh dammit, all these questions, constantly buzzing around her head. 

She should try and focus on something, something else. But what?

 

Oh right, the food. The spoon in her hand felt...heavy. Was she that weak?  

Well, she could at least answer  that  question. Everything felt heavy, from her blanket any time she tried to move it, to the...stupid spoon! Ugh!

 

The food was...okay? She couldn't say yes or no really. She hadn't gagged at any of it, and she has yet to get a rash or a coughing fit. 

 

The mountie said it was "mashed potatoes, sauerkraut, and minced meat". The best thing about it was how hot it was. She craved the warmth just as much as the answers no one could give. But this...this, she could have. At least in small bits. 

 

Despite being inside, the air was cold on her skin. It was also musty, probably because the windows were closed shut. It was...bleak. Despite her state, she wanted to go outside. Whatever was outside, it was sure to be better than this room.

 

Once he comes back, she'll ask him. She hoped to be stronger by then. For things to not be as heavy. For herself to be stronger. 

Notes:

Well, the job certainly helped with procrastination. It's easier to write, and while I know this chapter came out two days late, it's kinda because I was also scribbling and idea-ing other chapters of certain other stories some of you know :D

Things are, personally, good. Good-good. I'm just generally happy at how things are, and the future is looking bright.

While I'm all sappy and stuff, I want to say thank you guys. Thank you all so much for just...being you I guess? For giving this a try? Shit, I don't really know what to be thankful for, but I am! I really am!
I also want to recommend the work done by one certain Bramblerose64, "House of Asmodeus" and "Backstage".
(On an unrelated note, sucks that we got beat yesterday, Argentinians played kinda dirty in my opinion and the referee was also sketchy, but then again our boys certainly did some blunders too. But not the goalie, the goalie proved himself this cup more than anyone else.)

Fellas, galls, and all in between or neither. I wish you all a great holiday time. The end of the year is coming fast. I want you all to know that you're great, kind, strong, and can do everything you set your mind to. And if you don't believe you can, I BELIEVE YOU CAN!

Love y'all :D

Chapter 19: People talking and recalling previous events

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-




Moxxie clung tightly to the blanket, his ear pricked up as much as possible. Guy didn't speak anymore after his last sentence, but his breathing still sounded between the quiet winds and the fire crackles. 

After a while, the creaking of wood indicated he moved again. A whine of metal sounded next, followed by what sounded like the tossing of wood inside the stove.

Moxxie felt the bunk bed move just a bit, which was followed by the shifting of the blankets, and a deep exhale. 

The man was probably going to sleep. 

The imp waited for a time, holding still, his every breath thought out so as to not make a sound. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (5 minutes), he could hear the shallow, rhythmic breaths of a person deep in sleep. Carefully, he moved over the sheets, his hands letting go of his pretty, still sleeping Millie.

Leaning head first off the bed, he was met with Guy, fast asleep just below them. His face was almost completely covered by the wool blanket. 

Gulping, Moxxie tried to move down the ladders leading from the bunk bed. But as soon as he grabbed the first rung, it made such a bad creaking sound that he thought it was going to break!

Quickly, he let go, pulling himself up, listening with his eyes and ears wide open, biting his lower lip in panic. Crumbs crumbs crumbs crumbs!!!

Now Guy will surely wake up, come up here, and realize how all of the things happening in the last two days were all just one big scam, sham, swindle, and a fraud!

The amount of mind-spoken crumbs multiplied exponentially. 

-

"Okay, okay, we can still work this out." Loona said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Well, her disguise nose. Fuck, same thing!

"Since we came with him, and then 'Moxxie'..." she said, pointing to disguised Asmodeus "...came after us, but without Millie. How are we going to explain Millie being gone again?" 

"We could, umm...say she stayed at the trapper's cabin?" Octavia suggested.

"He would question why Moxxie went alone and left her behind."

"But didn't we do the same?"

"No, we 'left them' together" Loona said, making quotation marks with her hands "...plus he'd probably say we could go get her before we go forth, and we all know how that's going to end."

Silence stretched for a bit. It was cut short in the next moment by the opening of an upstairs window. 


 

All three heads turned up to see Moxxie pulling himself out through the narrow space between the window and the sill. 

"Perhaps...we could... oooh ahhh!" Before he could finish, the imp slipped on a piece of a frozen drain pipe, causing him to lose balance. 

"Motherfu..." He shouted on the way down, but before he could finish, he landed head-first into the pile of snow, disappearing in a white cloud. 

The trio continued to stare for a moment before Octavia walked over to the snow pile. Crouching down, she dug into the snow, only needing a few handfuls of snow to reveal the imp. 

"I hate it here..." She could hear him say, his voice muffled. Agreeing with his feelings, she helped him out of the pile, taking a moment to clear him of the snow still clinging to his clothes.

"Thank you" Moxxie said in a hushed voice, blushing from embarrassment, his eyes drilling a hole in the snow he was standing on.

-

"What were you saying?" Loona asked him.

"I...I uh... lost the thought on the way down." Moxxie admitted sheepishly, his tail wrapping around one of his legs. 

Rolling her eyes, Loona gave an annoyed exhale.

"Why were you even trying to climb out of the window?" Octavia asked, looking up to the half-open window, above which a thin trail of smoke rose into the sky, carried to disappearance by the wind.

"Everything else creaked too much. Didn't want to wake him up." Moxxie said, walking with her back to the other two. The four now stood in a small circle, with Moxxie looking up at the other three. 

"So, from what I heard, he thinks you are human, yes?" He asked the disguised Asmodeus. The king nodded, letting out a grumble alongside it. He didn't want to share what he knew (Or rather, his lack of knowledge) about the human.

"His behavior was weird. Changed with a flip of a switch. Is he always like that?" The king asked the two girls, causing them to look to each other for help. 

"Well, uh..." Octavia started

 

"I mean, we..." Loona started too

 

"Kinda met two days ago..."

 

"And he doesn't know a thing..."

 

"He made us breakfast..."

 

"Not to mention almost drowning to death..."

 

"Yes...wait, he WHAT?" Octavia shouted.

"Right...about that" Loona said, clasping her arms together. Fuck she wanted a drink and a smoke. 

 

-*-II-*-

-Carter Hydro Dam-Early evening- 2nd Day-

 

The two men and the demon struggled as they moved up the stairs, the boots and metal prosthesis clanking against the hard, metallic surface. First their fight, and now the arduous trek through the abandoned dam proved to be quite enough, if not too much, for them. 

Ollie was walking almost blind, the flare in his hand overwhelming his sense of vision, smell, and sound, and his hand felt like it was melting. 

The other two, despite holding back, still suffered from the noisy source of light, but at least they didn't have to hold the damn thing.




There was a barely noticeable glow coming from the windows placed high on the wall, the corners of the glass covered in frost and snow. They could hear the drawn-out, shrill passings of the wind just on the other side, a sound that they hadn't heard at all during their time in the bowels of the abandoned plant. 

Noticing a small metal strongbox with its top slightly ajar, Olliver walked over to it, tossing the flare inside, partially covering it. A sigh of relief escaped him as he was now finally free of the damned thing. 

"Fuck, my God..." He said, rubbing his hands over his face. His right hand felt far too hot on his skin. 

Both Fred and Fizz sat onto the closest thing they could find, the man on a folding chair, and the demon on a wooden crate sitting next to the wall.

The room wasn't anything special. A break room by the looks of it, with a coffee machine, a small fridge, and a few cupboards placed around. The footprints in the dust ended at the door over which was written "EXIT". It wasn't exactly hard to figure out where it led.

"Okay....okay okay okay. So...I think we're far away for the fire not to be a concern. For now." Ollie talked, leaning against a table, his legs aching. 

"Let's just...rest a bit before going outside. You, Fizz? You got any food or water in there?" He asked, pointing at the duffel bag hanging around the slender figure. 

The demon glanced over at the mention of his name, his big round eyes giving off that same glow as before. He moved the duffel bag in front of him with one of his hands. Eyeing the two in silence, he took a moment to answer. Clicking with his mouth, he unzipped the bag. Grabbing two packets of beef jerky, he tossed them to the men, along with a bottle of water. 

Fred frowned as he glanced from time to time at the imp. Despite Ollie's words, his anger was still stirring inside him. 

He'd have a long talk with Ollie, and some much-deserved knuckle-cracking with the jester. That, he was sure of. 

 

Before either of those, though, he needs to check on his leg. 

Leaning forward, he pulled the fabric of his pants up, revealing the metal prostheses that in the past two days went through more shit than the past years he had it.

 

Ollie watched as Fred removed his prosthetic leg, looking closely at it in the dimly lit room. 

Even in this lighting and from this distance, Ollie could see that it would need repairs, or at least buffing out if those weren't possible. Dented and slightly mangled, the outside was pressed inwards around the cylindric body of the prosthesis, what from strikes, what from crushing.

They hadn't really looked around the dam while passing through, but maybe there was something in here that they could use? 

Ollie looked around, even going up and looking inside the cabinets and cupboards. While he had some luck (Finding a can of soda, some matches, and a few granola bars), there wasn't anything that could help out with the prosthesis issue.

"Soo...where are we going exactly?" Fizz asked. 

Ollie first turned to him, then to the exit doors. 

"I'm...not really sure. Fred, you know anything about this part?"

The older man grumbled for a bit, fumbling with his metal leg. 

"Its...Winding River, I think it's called. There's supposed to be some sort of cave system going through, but I'm not sure if it's still passable since all the quakes. 

"Well, these footprints needed to have come from somewhere."

"Yeah, and from the wind outside, I'm guessing there's a blizzard raging on as we speak. Any trails they left will be wiped out by morning if they haven't been already."

"So we go on our own. It shouldn't be that hard to find it."

"Don't be crazy. There's bound to be wolves there, and we don't know if the ice is stable."

"Who said anything about going over the ice? As for the wolves, it's three of us, that..."

"Not enough to make them think twice. Once they catch our scent, it's only a matter of time before we have them walking behind us."

 

Fizz observed the two men talking it out, wondering where exactly "here" was. Despite his usual facade, he didn't feel like jabbing from the side. His joints felt too stiff for that. And if there was anything that they had to forget, it was his medication. Fuck.

Slowly trying to massage the sore spots, he looked around, trying to find a nice place to get some shuteye. It felt like he was back in the basement of the club, what with the crates and all. So much happened since then...only for him to end up in another box-filled room, except this time in the mortal world. Heh. 

Quite some time must have passed if it was almost night now. He wondered if Ozzie heeded his advice and stayed put. 

*Or maybe he didn't wake up. Maybe he'll never wake up because you left him alone with his wounds!*  An ugly voice shouted from within, making him frown.

Fuck fuck fuck, don't even think that! Ozzie is fine! Asmodeus is fine!

 

And that stupid old man. Fred. Ugh. What a disgusting name. 

 

-&-

-Safe place?-

 

He came back again. There was a bit more energy in his step, but his face looked...sad? Worried maybe?

"Hey there. Slept well?" He asked her, glancing at her eyes for only a moment, before looking away, as if forced. 

Blinking for a bit, she picked at the sleeve of her new pajama. Dorothy, the doctor that checked up on her, brought her new clothes, helping her change as well. It was the first time she looked at her nude body, and again, more questions flooded her mind. 

Why were there so many blue and purple bruises? Was she always so thin? Why did she feel like something was missing around her, that wasn't the clothes?

"Yes. I think so...there weren't a lot of dreams this time."

He nodded at the answer, his face seemingly slightly less worried. 

"That's good, that's...really good. Uh, how are you feeling...you know, in general?" He asked again, articulating with his hands while looking at some distant point somewhere to her side. 

Again with that. Everyone avoided looking her directly in the eyes. She didn't know if it was just some way of courtesy, but the slight tremor she noticed a few times didn't make that seem plausible. It bugged her. 

"Why doesn't anyone look me in the eye?" She asked, ignoring his question with her own.

He didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to freeze in place, standing completely still. Was he even breathing?

Finally, after a few moments of silence, he croaked out an answer.

"I don't know." Was all he said, as his arms curled into fists. 

"Wh-wha...?"

"I'm...I'm sorry." He cut her off before she could finish.

"I...don't know why none of us can look you in the eye without looking away. I don't know who you are, or what I can do to help you. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you. You...you don't deserve a fate worse than ours. You're not from here. But we don't know why you were here...Fuck."

She listened to him rambling, kneading her blanket. 

Was her fate really worse than theirs? She didn't remember who she was, true. But what he told her of himself and of others, she doubted that was worse than losing loved ones. Loved ones...

 

Did she have loved ones? A husband? Or a wife? Maybe both? Maybe neither...Hmm...

 

***Somewhere else, sometime else***

A pair of bright red eyes stared at her. They looked tired and teary. 

 

"I cannot do this anymore. I want you out, now." A male voice said, the eyes moving with it. 

 

"What do you mean, out?" A female voice said, so similar to her own, but sounding...harsher. Stricter. More bitter and more...angry.

 

"I mean out! Out of this palace, out of my life. We are getting THE divorce." The male voice responded again, this time a swirling white dot appearing in each of the eyes staring at her. 

***

 

"Hey, hey? You alright?" The man asked, crouched next to her.

She was back in bed. Back in the cold room with the musty air. W-what? What happened just now? It, it seemed like a moment from her past. Her past? 

"I-I..." She couldn't find the words as more questions flooded her. Who was that? Who was she? Red eyes? Out of a palace, out of his life? The divorce?

As the questions piled on, more and more, her breath felt short, her lungs gasping for more air. 

"A-air....a..."

"What is it?" 

"A-aiir!" She tried to scream, clutching at her chest. Her vision blurred in and out of focus as she desperately tried to escape the heavy suffocating feeling crushing her. 

 

 

Notes:

With things calming down for a bit in (almost) all places, who knows how it will all continue forth?

With Christmas just a week away (even less than a week), it's a good time to wish you all a merry Christmas, or happy Hanukkah for those that celebrate it (Although it already began according to google. Sorry for the late response)

As always, feel free to ask and/or comment about what you think, and give your opinion on the matter.

I wish you all the best and a great time ahead. Stay strong champ, we know you can do it ;)

Chapter 20: Seeds of doubt and other, more positive feelings

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-

 

Millie stirred under the wool covers. Despite being used to being hot, seeing as she was from Wrath, it was getting a bit too warm under the blankets. 

 

Pulling the warm cloth down from over her head, she was met with a bit colder air of the room she was in. Behind the shuffling of the sheets, the crackles of fire could be heard, similar to the family fireplace back at her parents house. 

 

The room was pretty lit up. Guess she slept through the night. And it was also...lower? Oh, she was just on the top bunk. How strange. Did she moonclimb up here while she slept? 

 

*Wouldn't be the first time*  She thought, rubbing her eyes. Sure was funny when she had to explain it to Moxxie the first time it happened. 

 

Thinkin' of him, where was her cute little husband? The room seemed quite empty. Where was everybody?

 

A sudden loud snore answered that question and caused her to jump a bit in surprise. 

 

As she moved to the side of the bed to see who was it snoring below, she felt a bit of tightness around her torso. Pulling up the blanket, she could see a wide line of bandages going all around the middle of her body, all neatly fastened and secured so it doesn't loosen even if she was to move here and there. A dark line could be discerned going along her side. They got her good indeed, but they were all dead, and she was still here, nice and toasty. Ha!

 

Leaning down over the side, her eyes lightly lit up the face of a sleeping man. THE sleeping man. Mr. Guy man. 

 

As soon as she leaned down, she leaned back up, causing the wooden pillars of the bunk bed to creak in protest. Her hands shot up to her mouth as she cursed inwardly. Of course it would be him! 

 

She didn't notice a small, almost invisible cloud of dust flying her way from the ceiling.

 

-

 

The creaking and the slight moving snapped Guy awake. His eyes moved across the room, looking quickly from side to side to see what was going on. 

 

Nothing. Just the crackling of the fire. Hmm...

A sneeze out of nowhere (or rather, from the upper bunk) caused him to duck his head, waking up immediately.

 

"Loona? Octavia? That you?" He asked, not wanting to check for himself in case that well...the same situation as in the house occurred (Since there was no door this time, he figured a response would be much more violent). 

 

For a few moments, there was no response. Was he possibly hearing things? 

 

Just as he was moving out to check, violent response be damned, a female voice coughed a few times. It didn't sound like Octavia or Loona.

 

"Ahm, excuse me mister. A bit o' dust got in the way." A female voice said in a quite nice sounding southern accent. Though there seemed to be a note of...fear in it? 

 

"Oh, yea sure, no problem...wait, are you...oh what's her name...Millie, right?"

 

"Yes sir, das me. And you must be that Guy fella that made us that tasty breakfast yesterday?" 

 

"Uhh, yeah, yeah, that's me. I'm glad the breakfast was good...but wait, how come you're up here...?"

 

"Ah was just sleeping after yesterday, got pretty worn out. Gotta admit, you sure know how to pick a route, what with the rope climbin' and cave crawlin'..." Millie said, giving a slight chuckle, followed by the moving of the sheets.

 

"Guess I do...glad you made it all the way here. Met your uh...Moxxie's your husband, right?" Guy said, skipping over what Octavia told him outside. That Moxxie made it alone yesterday.

 

There was a moment of silence after his question, during which Guy wondered if he could hear a faint heartbeat above him, or was he just thinking he was hearing it. It wouldn't be a good thing to say you hear things like that. 

 

"You met Moxxie?" Millie asked, her voice...different. Scared even. What for?

 

"Uh, yeah? Big, tall, strong build. Real good-looking guy. Didn't really get to see much of his face thought, hmm..." 

 

Now that he thought about it, he didn't really see much of Moxxie at all. Just those...bright green eyes.

 

Just the thought of them made him shiver. As pretty as they were, they also felt soo....powerful? Guess he could call them that. Drat, that whole meeting was weird. The whole morning was weird! 

 

It's fine, it's just the exhaustion and the hunger.

 

*And you killing yourself in that black lake you...*

 

No no NO there has been NO drowning, not for him. No. Stupid thoughts.

Instead, why not think about what Octavia said? 

Just Moxxie? But then...why is Millie here? 

 

A seed of doubt planted itself inside him, as he scratched his beard, trying to think things through. 

 

Something didn't add up. Why would Octavia say Millie wasn't with Moxxie? 

 

He needed to pull the thing out by the root immediately, before it festers.

 

-

 

"Hmm..." Asmodeus repeated, it being the only sound he made for the past few minutes. 

 

Loona and Octavia, with Moxxie jumping in a few times, took turns explaining just what, how, and why of the Guy guy. From how they met, to almost getting found out, to the weird glowing around his neck, to almost getting found out  again , to the traveling from Milton to here, to the shootout, to the lake, to the confirmation of old stories about holy items, to here and now. All the while, Asmodeus let the trio talk, quietly listening as he tried to fit all the pieces together. 

 

The First Flare, wiping out electronics, animals acting weird, people stuck on the island...

 

*All I wanted to do was watch a movie with Fizz... and maybe rail him afterward*  The disguised King of Lust thought as he scratched his neck and chin. The long wool scarf helped keep his head and face nice and warm, but dammit if it didn't also make it itch to high heaven too! The fleece cowl didn't help too much either, the fabric tightly pressing around his head like a condom on  another  kind of head. 


 

Ugh, where is Fizz when you need him? Gone, out on a chase for those two men who ( apparently ) are friends with the aforementioned Guy. Talk about bull coincidence. 

 

"Wait, Moxxie...did you leave him alone up there with Millie?" Octavia cut off Loona, looking eyed wide at the small imp that tried his best to stay warm outside the indoor comforts of camp offices or backpacks.

 

"I...uh...oh." Moxxie answered, as if just now realizing what he had done, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, the pupils nigh disappearing as they shrunk down. A loud gulp escaped him.

 

"Moxxie, what; the; fu..." Loona started but was cut off by a blunt ' thud ' behind her.

 

Turning around, she saw the limp body of another one of those hooded bastards lying in a weird position on the camp office deck, with Guy leaning against a window he just pushed it through, taking a breather. 

 

"Ey, hey." He said to her and the others, waving his hand for a bit, still trying to catch his breath. 

 

"Noticed this guy lying behind the desk, had some interesting stuff on 'im. Also, Moxxie, your wife is asking for you upstairs."

 

-

 

Millie wondered just who this "Moxxie" was that Guy described. "Big, tall, strong build. Real good-looking guy."

 

Okay, that last part was true. Her Moxxie was just the sweetest little thing. Little, not big and tall. And definitely not strong-built. 

 

Now that Guy was gone (She had to pretend to be indecent and hide under the blankets, not entirely trusting his promise not to look her way), she felt she could be a bit freer in her movements. If anything, she could get something to drink and bite down on while she waited for Guy's version of her Moxxie to come up. 

 

Carefully climbing down the creaking ladders, she jumped off the last rung, but immediately regretted it, as the impact sent a spike through her body, hurting like heaven. She felt the skin under the bandages heat up, and she had to latch onto something, as in the next moment her head felt like it was splitting open. Dammit, why wasn't she more careful with those hooded bastards?

 

Having to take a moment to steady herself, she wondered who those guys were. And was Loona safe? Last time she saw her, one of them crazies was charging at her boss' daughter. 

 

Speaking of boss, just where was Blitz in all of this? It wasn't exactly nice of him to just up and disappear for a week, but then again, being nice wasn't exactly in the boss' vocabulary.

 

*Hope he didn' get himself in the same kind of trouble as us.*

 

Strong steps against the wooden floor brought her out of her musing, making her look up. 

 

A big, tall, strongly built "man" was walking up the stairs. The "man" she assumed Guy thought was her Moxxie. 

 

As the "man" closed the distance, now standing behind the rustic couch in the middle of the open room, he leaned down, his shining green eyes looking down at her. 

 

"Well hello there miss. I hear you wanted to see me?" He said in a low, silky voice that sounded far too familiar for her to just imagine it.

 

"Ah wanted to see Moxxie, not... whatever y'are." 

 

"Oh, don't you remember me?" The "man" asked, theatrically placing his gloved hands on his chest. "You hit my little jester with a guitar last time we saw eachother." He said, a hearty chuckle escaping him. "He's been sulking about it ever since."

 

As if a switch was flipped, Millie recognized who that was. 

 

*Yup, Blitz definitely couldn't have gotten himself into the same kind of trouble as us*

 

-

 

"Why didn't you use the door?" Octavia asked as Guy was finishing up climbing through the open window. Or at least, what was left of the window after yesterday.

 

"The door? But the door is stuck..." He said, turning around, only to stop as he looked at the unblocked door. 

 

"Mhm..." Was all that Guy let out as he turned away from the much easier and faster path out, had he only noticed it earlier. 

 

Having thought things through, and now sending Moxxie upstairs (As Millie requested), he was left alone with the two girls with whom this all started. 

 

"Say...Octavia. Remember just an hour or so ago, when you came out here to greet us?" 

 

"Uh, yes?"

 

"And you said something about Moxxie coming here alone, but uh...I was talking with Millie upstairs just now."

 

"You did.?" Loona said, sounding like it was half question, half statement.

 

"Well, yeah. Rather charming if I do say so, though I have yet to see her. She said she was indecent under the uhm...the covers." Guy said, a bit of red filling out his cheeks as he faked a cough. 

 

The two girls didn't answer outright, instead glancing a look at eachother. Loona sneaked a look behind them two, at a small pair of footprints that led behind and around the camp office. 

 

"So to not let any stupid doubts fester, I wanna ask you fair and square. Moxxie and Millie came here yesterday, together, and you didn't mean anything wrong, you were just overwhelmed by all of this. Am I correct in this assumption?"

 

Octavia gulped down as Guy held his stare on her, not even blinking. That... thing  around his neck now glowed like a flashlight, making her doubly nervous. 

 

She got them in trouble again! Through sheer bad luck, and poor choice of words...fuck, why'd she have to say that it was just Moxxie? She didn't know Millie would be awake and talk with Guy, ugh! 

 

"I-I..." Octavia tried to answer but had trouble keeping it together enough, her breathing shaky, her mouth dry. The gnawing heat of embarrassment and shame flared up within her, making her insides itch.

 

Guy just kept staring, though he seemed to have softened his look a bit. 

 

"Y-yes...yes, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, these last few days were just...fuck..." She stammered out, afraid of the outcome. 

 

Loona stepped in front of her, which made Octavia instinctively try to hide behind the older girl, away from the stare of the exorcist.

 

"Hey, come on, we all had a rough few days...mind wanders and tongue slips...she didn't mean anything bad. She was just scared for us, right Via?" She heard Loona speak, throwing a glance down behind her, a sincere look on her face. Octavia simply nodded in response, while quickly trying to wipe those few traitorous tears that slipped out.

 

Guy moved his gaze back and forth between the two of them, his jaw grinding while his thoughts stirred. Finally, he nodded, looking away. 

 

"Yes...yes you're right. It's been, frankly, a shit few days. And I should know for Pete's sake. Just...on edge I guess. 'specially with this thing here." 

 

Pulling out a piece of paper from within his jacket, he opened it up, revealing a hand-drawn map with several points of interest on it. 

 

"Found this on the dead guy right there. How he ended up behind that desk is beyond me, but it doesn't matter right now. Take a look at this."

 

Straightening the paper out, he turned it so all three could look at it at the same time. 

 

 

"Ben, take a group up to Mystery Lake. Now that most of the coastal towns have been dealt with, it's time to clear them out too. When you are finished with them, burn the dam of that bastard Carter on the way back. 

Until then, take care, and may Mother Nature protect you from harm."

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-&-

-Blackrock Penitentiary-

 

Hoffman carried her on his arms as quickly as he could, careful not to drop her or hit anything. 

 

Despite his condition, she felt so...light on his arms. Like he was carrying a little bird, frail and in need of protection. The thought made him frown, feeling bad for the woman in his arms. He gripped her just a bit firmer.

 

He'll protect her.

 

Kicking the door of the infirmary open, he stepped outside, his boots crunching through the snow as he carried her over to a nearby fire barrel. The fire will keep them warm, and there will still be plenty of air for her. 

 

The sky was clear after the night blizzard and the shy sun rays chased the last remaining tendrils of the night, a few stars still shining at the far west. The peak of the region stood tall and proud in the distance, like a giant finger pointing up, toward the future, towards better things.




She didn't deserve this. People of the Great Bear might have lost a lot over the years, and even more now with this...First Flare. But they still remembered those they lost, that what they lost. They had their memories, cherished moments from the past to remember and carry on with. 

 

But she...she didn't have anything. Not even her name. And now, the first time that her memories surface, she isn't happy or relieved. She's hurt.

 

He could feel his heart getting pierced by sadness and guilt. His fault for not nipping that cult when he could have. His fault for letting all those people suffer and die. His fault for having...her like this. 

 

Giving a deep exhale, he tried to push away the dark thoughts lingering at the corners of his mind, threatening to pull him down.

 

---

 

She blinked a few times, her eyes not recognizing the place she was in. Somewhere close by, she heard crackling of...fire. Yes, that was a fire. 

 

There was a warm, comfortable heat spreading through her body, yet when she went to breathe in, the air was clear and fresh, almost...sweet. It felt wonderful to fill her lungs as much as she could, the feelings of invigoration and energy taking hold of her with each new breath. 

 

"Hey." She heard a familiar voice, his voice, next to her. Turning to look at him, she met his eyes for a second longer, before he looked away, guilt written on his face. 

 

"Hey..." She said back, her gaze shifting down. 




They sat on a small pile of cloth, leather, and old newspapers close to the fire barrel, from which a trail of smoke flew up, scraping against the rusty ceiling before escaping to the vast nothingness of the sky. She leaned close to it, inhaling a bit of smoke. The aromas of burning wood intertwined with one another, the smell nice. But to her, all of these new smells, sounds and feelings were nice. 

 

The sound of the wind freely flowing, shaking the chainlink fences, grazing along the stone roofs. The smell of snow, freely flowing air, smoke... it all brought calm to her.

 

"You're better now?" He asked while fumbling with something. 

 

"Yes...yes, I feel better..."

 

Still, despite finally being outside of that room, it seems new troubles keep rising up. 

 

That red-eyed...man? Was that her husband? And that divorce?

Dammit, again with the questions. She was sick of questions she had no answer for. 

 

"Well, I think this might help too." The man sitting beside her said, shifting her attention from the hurtful memory, to the pleasant present. 

 

Holding something in his hand, he reached out, as if offering it to her. 

 

"I know it might not be much, but it may help." He said, focusing on the item rather than looking her in the eye. 

 

Reaching out, she took it, her fingers brushing against the palm of his hand. It felt hard, yet warm to the touch, and she seldom regretted pulling away so soon. Despite the fire burning close by, she wanted more heat, more warmth, more of that comfortable feeling. 

 

But for now, she'll have to see what the item was. 

It looked like a glasses case of some sort, without anything special on its worn-out surface, save for a small picture of a jumping hare. 

 

Opening it, she was greeted by a pair of aviator sunglasses, the dark lenses reflecting her face back at her.

 

At first confused as to what use these would be to her, it didn't take long for it to click. 

 

Her heart melted at the gesture, so much so that she caught herself having to suddenly blink a lot more.

 

This...this gift...

 

Quickly, she put them on, finding them to be an almost perfect fit. The world was several shades darker around her, but she didn't care. Turning to the side, she looked at him in the eye. 

 

And he didn't look away. 

 

A sincere smile crept on both faces as she grabbed his hand with her two, gripping at the fingers, feeling the rough and calloused skin, and its welcoming warmth. 

 

"Thank you."

 

Notes:

Merry Christmas and happy holidays. I wish you all the best, good luck, good health, and a great time for you and your loved ones. You deserve to be happy!

I love you all, and want you to know that you've been a great help in these last few months that I've been writing. I just wanted you all to know it.

With that said, I wish you a great last week of the year, and I belive in you to do whatever you put your mind to, no matter how hard it might be. Stay safe out there!

Chapter 21: Morning musings

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-

 

Guy was racking his mind over the piece of paper, concern gnawing at him. 

 

Whoever these guys were, they were sent here specifically to take him and the boys out and torch the dam afterward. Would that explain why Ollie and Fred were nowhere to be found? 

 

Despite the tendrils of panic reaching him, he shook his head. 

 

*Let's not get ahead of ourselves...This place is big enough that they could simply be somewhere else entirely, and this whole thing passed by them, hitting us first.*

 

Of course they'd hit the camp office first. The place was smack dab of the region, a no-brainer base for anyone operating here. The only way they could've gotten there, however, was from the way of the dam. The tunnel towards Forlorn Muskeg caved in a week or so ago, right around the time of that second aurora. And if they came from the dam, that means they probably traveled via the train tracks from the coast. 

 

Guy paced, thinking of Morten and Rudy. The coast was a big place. Chances are that both of them slipped past these guys too. At least he had to hope they did. 

 

 

-//-III-//-

-Pleasant Valley homestead-

 

Morten stretched out where he sat, hearing the joints and the spinal column crack and pop as he moved his body and his limbs in all manner of ways. Why'd he had to pass out here at the table? A proper bed would've been much better for every piece of him. 

 

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he felt for the doorknob of the house entrance, wanting to get out to do  the business .

 

That was one of the worst parts about this whole situation. If you ever wanted to relieve yourself, doing it indoors would be more comfortable, but the flushing wouldn't work on the account of most of the piping being frozen. Hence why you had to go outside. 

 

In more remote areas, there were usually field toilets close by, but as Morten stepped out of the house, it was clear to him that this region wasn't remote enough. 

 

All around the homestead, the land was filled with leafless orchard trees, all evenly spaced, stretching on and on. He had already had more than one look at the surroundings through the house windows but seeing it again after the nightly bender seemed to have made the vast stretch of land all around them that much larger. 

 

With careful steps, he made his way down the porch stairs, and onto the snow, making his way toward three trees some meters away. Despite walking on solid hard ground, each step was overcorrected and rigid, the hangover still holding the body and mind down, a payment for the fine, half-forgotten times of drinking and partying last night. 

 

*Playing cards with an owl and an imp, boy what a story to tell...*  He thought as he stepped between the trees, only to be met with a body leaning face-first against one of the tree trunks. 

 

Startled, he nearly fell to the ground, but a moment later his eyes discerned to who the body belonged. 

 

Rudy had, at some point, gotten outside, and has been quietly snoring, propped against the tree, his pants half-removed, and his hands unconsciously gripping at the fabric.

 

Blinking, Morten at first wondered why the fuck was his friend doing propped up like that until the answer clicked in his head. 

 

In the middle of going to relieve himself, the drunken idiot fell asleep!

 

"Ugh, for the love of..." Morten muttered, steadying himself on his feet. Moving closer to his sleeping friend, he grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him lightly. 

 

"Hey, dude, wake up..." He said, his voice tired and groggy. But Rudy only squirmed for a bit, shaking his arm off. A lazy snore escaped him as he adjusted himself on the "bed". 

 

"Right, the hard way then..." Morten sighed, rolling his eyes. With a hefty shove, he pushed Rudy to the side, away from the tree. 

 

He started falling to the ground, at first slowly, and then faster and faster as his head kept getting closer to the ground. With an audible " plop ", Rudy landed face-first into the snow, his pants down, his decency hidden only by his boxers. 

 

Clearing his throat, Morten turned away to do his thing, letting out a sigh of relief as he got to it.

 

The sounds of moving behind him told him that Rudy was indeed awake, or at least his body was reacting to the lack of oxygen.

 

"Uh...huu...ughh..." He could hear coming from behind him, a series of unconnected, slurred groans and grumbles. How many did he have last night? Who knew, there were plenty of empty bottles littering the inside. He'd have to count them all up to make sure. 

 

The owl prince and the little imp seemed to have both handled their drink better (Prince especially, the guy practically chugged a whole bottle at one point like it was water.), but he wasn't sure if the hangover would be the same. Maybe it was worse for Hell denizens? Eh, who knew that stuff. Certainly not him. Or any of the other fellas. Guy could probably talk about named demons and sins or whatever, but Morten doubted those books held anything about the physiology or biology of an average creature from Hell. 

 

As he fastened his belt back, he couldn't help but chuckle again.

 

*Here I am, thinking about how hungover demons get after drinking some hillbilly moonshine shit while taking a piss. Definitely up there with weird stuff, heh...*

 

"Bleugh..." Came from behind, followed by the sound of spitting and nose-blowing. 

 

-

 

Stolas had spent the last few minutes enjoying the feel and sight of his little imp on top of him, caressing him under the blanket that covered them both, while imagining all sorts of nice and fun stuff the two could be doing together. And to his own surprise, not all of it was sexual!

 

The imp squirmed under his fingers, sometimes letting out quiet groans as his hands reached for whatever was closest, gripping it innocently in his sleep. 

 

Craning his head back so that he stared through the windows outside, Stolas recalled the first day he and Blitz met. The imp was in the circus, among other performers, jumping and swinging around the stage while that jingly circus music played. And that worm horse joke, hah! How could no one else laugh at it?

 

And their time together in the mansion, running around on that treasure hunt! Ahh, thinking back about those good memories made him feel so warm all around. 

 

"Mhhh..." He heard under the blanket. Stolas moved his head up just in time to see two horns poke into view, sliding from under the blanket, revealing the head they were perched on top of. 

 

Thinking how words were overrated anyway, Stolas leaned down, planting a small kiss on his forehead. 

 

-

 

"Asshole" 

 

"Hey, you're the one that was sleeping outside."

 

"Asshole" 

 

"For waking you up before your dick froze?"

 

"I'll give  you  a dick, asshole"

 

Rudy had been rather pissy at Morten for waking him the way he did. Snow clung the entire length of his front, from his pants up to his face, though the snow there was slowly melting due to the immense heat rising from his cheeks. Like a damn boiler, he was. 

 

The pair slowly walked back towards the house, the business finished, and the exposed skin demanding a warmer climate immediately, the freezing cold of the night still lingering under the weak rays of the morning sun. 

 

Coming up to the porch, both stopped right in front of the door. Neither said anything, save for the breaths each took at their own pace and rhythm. 

 

Rudy nodded a few times, grinding his teeth slightly as if confirming something inside his head. 

 

"So this is the reality now, huh? Drinking with demons in a farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere..."

 

Morten didn't answer. There was no need for an answer really. He had accepted it as the new normal, shielding himself from the scary thoughts that threatened to rush in every waking moment spent near them. Questions he didn't want answers to, because he wouldn't like them one bit. It was easier to occupy his thoughts of affairs and relationships of demons than to think of the fate of his soul. 

 

"Whole world has gone crazy Mort. First the lights, then the animals..."

 

"We don't know that the world has gone crazy. We'd need to see for ourselves." Morten corrected him, knowing it mattered little against the doubts they all had. What if this was it? What if the whole world flickered out just like that? Would this winter last forever then? 

 

No. It couldn't have. Spring will come again, they just need to be patient. They need to remain strong and focused. 

 

"This island is cursed. We never should have come here." Rudy said, wiping the last of the snow off of himself. 

 

"I know..." Morten uttered, heavy thoughts burdening his shoulders. With a sigh, he reached for the doorknob. 

 

-

 

The events of yesterday were not lost on Rudy. He enjoyed the spent time, the alcohol relaxing his tension, easing him into that false sense of security and comfort that whisked away any bothersome worries, instead replacing them with the warmth in his belly, and the want to laugh at even the worst jokes. But now that the alcohol has run its course, the sobering reality hit like a truck. 

 

They were all buddy-buddy with demons. Fucking hell demons. They drank and played cards together. 

 

Just as he wanted to speak out about the subject more, his thoughts were cut short by a rather... sloppily wet sound coming from the living room. Immediately he winced, as lewd images flooded his mind, refusing to budge from there despite his pleas.

 

"Relax, they're only kissing," Morten said to him, tugging at his shoulder, forcing him to sit at the table. 

 

-

 

Having forced Rudy to sit down, Morten flushed the troubles out of his mind, his focus on the stove. 

 

Pointing out that there's nothing good coming from arguing about things they can't change, he went forward and started to make breakfast.

 

As the fire crackled inside the stove, Morten busied himself with the pots and the pans, warming up some water for coffee and tea, as well as cracking a few of the eggs he found inside the fridge. He had to admit, despite the whole island being rather barren in terms of supplies, there was an ample amount of them in here, which was further proved by some bacon he managed to find, along with a jar of jam, and some stale butter. 

 

The lack of bread was replaced by a fair amount of flour and other cooking supplies, which proved to be perfect for his personal recipe of "pancakes", except thicker and salty, perfect as a substitute for bread.

 

-

 

Blitz relished in the warm embrace of the owl prince, who kept cuddling him, stroking the back of his head and the base of his horns, filling his ear with that low owl giggle every time Blitz returned the gesture. 

 

Waking up to Stolas kissing him, Blitz would've stopped him, but the warm feeling was too good to deny. 

 

Even for someone as worthless as you

 

 Somewhere in the background, he could hear the sizzle of oil on a pan, which made his stomach growl. Turns out alcohol ain't enough of a food stuff to sate it.

 

He had to push out from the kiss. A part of him hated to move away from that closeness, but another part urged him to do so as fast as possible. 

 

Stolas looked up at him, his two pairs of eyes half-lidded, a happy, satisfied expression written over his blushing face. 

 

You don't deserve the look he gives you 

 

-

 

Rudy kept quietly sitting at the table, his thoughts stewing within him as he watched Morten prepare breakfast. 

 

What he said kept wrestling with his own worrying ideas as the kitchen was filled with the smell of bacon. 

 

Was there really nothing they could do about the demons? 

 

Before he could get to a conclusion, the demons in question slowly walked into the room. 

 

As soon as they did, someone else knocked on the outside door.

Notes:

Hello everyone, nice to see you half a month into the new year! I know that the time off was a bit long, sorry about that; been thinking is all. That's kinda hard sometimes XD

I wish you all the best, and a nice rest of the weekend <3

Chapter 22: Reliability of narration

Summary:

Who is at the door?

(The chapter segment symbols lead to interesting places)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-//-IV-//-*-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- 3rd Day- Late Morning-

 

The sound put the two men on edge, as the memories of yesterday surfaced, completely forgotten until now. Whoever shot at them was still out there, and this could very well be them.

 

Stolas didn't seem as alarmed by the knocking, though Blitz woke up from it, his eyes darting from the door to the nearby windows, and his whole posture seemed a bit tenser. 

 

Morten looked at the door, then at the kitchen knife he's been using moments earlier. Drawing it from its place on the cutting board with the sound of dragging metal, he approached the door from the side, standing over the small wooden shelf standing between the stove and the door. 

 

"What's going on? Who's at the hmmhhmh..." Stolas couldn't finish his question as Blitz placed his hand over the prince's mouth, pushing him behind the corner. He signaled with his other hand to be quiet, a serious look on his face.  

 

"Who's there?" Morten asked, his voice loud and serious, the knife aimed at around eye level at the door, ready to be stabbed into anyone trying to enter.

 

Rudy silently slid through the door on the opposite side of the kitchen, disappearing outside. Stolas caught a glimpse of something metallic in his hand. It seemed his hangover was gone, much like the man himself by now.

 

"Stranger,  cough ...we seek shelter." A male voice said from the other side of the door, making Morten tense up even more at his spot. It sounded muted and strained like the man struggled to catch his breath.

By now Blitz had let go of Stolas and scurried forward, taking cover behind the fridge, wielding a fork he grabbed from the table. 

 

"We need..." The man began again but was interrupted by heavy coughing, the kind that scrapes the lungs and makes one lean forward without intention. Morten gulped, his nostrils flaring as his breathing quickened. 

 

Could this be a ploy? The people outside could be with the same person that wrote those scribbles they found in the barn.  

 

"What's your name stranger?" Morten asked, his brow creasing as his lips tugged downwards. He was tensing up, awaiting the possible confrontation that could spring at any moment.

 

-

 

Rudy moved around the house as quietly as possible. The passing wind managed to partially hide the steps in the snow, though to him it felt like he was cracking glass with each one, being far too loud for his liking.

 

Squeezing the revolver in his hand, he stopped at the corner of the house, taking a breath to steady himself. He could hear someone coughing loudly, painfully even, and decided to risk the lean. 

 

Leaning from behind the corner, he looked at the enclosed glass porch, discerning moving figures inside. The glass was too dirty to make out the faces or anything specific, but he could see one of the figures leaning forward in a coughing fit, while the other one seemed to be leaning against the doorframe, heavily breathing. 

 

He registered some movement out of the corner of his eye and looked towards a trailer holding several hay bales sitting close by. 

 

There, a small figure shuddered at the passing winds as it leaned onto the hay bales. A large hoodie covered its face, with its hands wrapped around its body (confusingly, it seemed as if the hands extended more than once around the torso, but he couldn't tell for sure). A duffel bag that looked almost empty hung from its slender frame. Each loose piece of the too-large hoodie fluttered like a sail with each new gust of wind, despite the arms trying to wrap everything in a closed package. If he had to describe the figure with only one word, it'd be easy. 

 

Freezing. And thus, not a threat. 

 

Stepping out of his place behind the corner, Rudy took one more glance at the figures by the door, the revolver at the ready. 

 

"Hands where I can see 'em! Don't try anything stupid." He shouted, a cloud of steam escaping his lips, disappearing almost immediately with the passing of the shrill winds. He bent his knees slightly, leaning forward a bit, holding the weapon with both hands. The hammer was cocked back, which made the trigger easier to pull. If it came to it, that is. Rudy didn't exactly have the desire to shoot someone today. 

 

The figures inside the enclosed porch straightened out at the words, shifting their gaze toward him through the dirty glass. 

 

"Come out here, nice and easy!"

 

The figures inside stepped forth, gloved hands above their heads.

 

"Rudy, is that you?" One asked, and Rudy's eyes went wide.

 

---

 

It was a shocking surprise to see their friends here, especially in the condition they were in. Morten could hardly speak as he looked over them.

 

Ollie sported a black eye, as well as many cuts and bruises, his face didn't have a single clean spot on it. The messy stubble and loose hair added to the manic appearance, as his eyes were open wide at all times, barely blinking. A bloody bandage was wrapped on one of his forearms, as was visible through the hole torn in his jacket. 

 

Frederick's usually bushy beard was dirty and tangled. His movements were slow and sluggish, and he needed to put much effort to move each of his legs. The prosthesis on his left leg looked more like a mangled piece of metal good only for the scrapyard than something to lean onto. There were two bullet holes in different places in his pants, one on the lower left that hit his prosthesis, and one on the upper right. The second bullet had luckily only grazed him, but it was a deep wound in need of stitching, the bandages weren't enough to allow for complete healing, only for staunching of bleeding. 

 

Both were pale and trembling, the exposed skin dangerously devoid of color (where the dust and the blood didn't already cover it), their clothes in tatters and in serious need of mending. The backpacks were in a sorry state too, with no supplies inside, save for a half-empty bottle of water.

 

Morten and Rudy both rushed to help them out best they could, sitting them in front of the fireplace, giving them warm tea to drink in small doses while massaging the frozen areas, especially the fingers and the toes. Most of the clothing was tossed to the side, replaced by heavy blankets brought from upstairs. 

 

Meanwhile, the unnamed figure that came in with them curled up in the far corner right next to the stove, its face still covered under the hood, while a small puddle of melting snow formed underneath it. There was a faint whirring sound coming from it, but neither of the men paid much attention to it as they were preoccupied with their friends. Fred muttered something about how the unnamed one was fine and didn't need to be looked after. He said it with a big dose of anger in his voice, completely different from his state. 

 

---

 

Ollie had trouble thinking, let alone speaking what was on his mind.

 

It didn't take long for the fire blazing inside the dam to reach their little break room on the other side of the abandoned building, and they had no choice but to vacate and head for the closest shelter they could find. 

 

Outside the large structure, the wind raged through the narrow passage, making their advance slow and difficult. A new flare lit the way forward, though this time the heat was much more manageable due to the cold enveloping them at all sides.

 

As they descended a natural slope leading down towards the river, they could see the largest symbol of progress and civilization on this island ablaze, the fiery tongues reaching up into the sky, unyielding against the battering of the shrieking winds. The inferno lit up the way forward for them, a small help for the trio that had no way back. 

 

After spending some time making their way over the frozen path winding among the rocky cliffs, the ice constantly creaking under their weight, they reached a snowy bank leading into a cave that seemed to swallow all light that dared to come close to it. 

 

They had used up the last of their supplies making their way through the cave, at one point going to sleep around a campfire someone else placed inside one of the chambers. The flare and the matches provided the necessary sparks and heat, while the abundance of coal and some twigs made for excellent fuel. For a few hours, they managed to get some shut-eye, waking up close to morning. Using the few remaining embers, some sticks, and one of the shirts in the duffel bag, they fashioned two torches with which they continued through the cave. The soda and the granola bars were quickly scarfed down before they left the protection of the narrow corridors behind, and stepped out into a vast region. 

 

They managed to make out a thin line of smoke right in front of them, which turned out to be the farmstead. However, the way from the cave to it proved to be less than idyllic. 

 

A pack of wolves, startled from a kill they made earlier (A small doe, alone and abandoned), jumped them as they reached the peak of a hill. The torches proved to be the saving grace against the beasts, but they still forced them to double-time it towards the promise of safety that was the smoke in the distance, a difficult task for the worn-out group. Coupled with the rising winds and the deep snow, the dash quickly sapped them of what little strength they gathered inside the cave. 

 

However, just as they reached the outer fence of the farm, the wolves seemed to back off, barking at them from the other side of the road that ran along the side of the estate, not moving a step further. 

 

As he sat inside the kitchen, Ollie wondered how lucky they must've been with their friends being here. There was no telling if someone else would've taken them in. Despite his confusion as to what they were doing here, he decided it wasn't important to know. For now, rest and warmth is what he needed. 

 

---

 

Fizz had trouble keeping his eyes open. He knew what it meant to exhaust yourself on stage, but this was something else completely. His joints ached, and he felt miserable across his whole body. The stove he leaned next to provided immense heat, but it also made him sleepy. And despite wanting it, sleep was the last thing he should do. The two men tending to Ollie and...the  other  one, seemed to be their friends or at least someone who knew them close enough to help them. That made them a threat. Especially with how Fred told them they didn't need to look after him. Old bastard. 

 

But all of that could be ignored, if it wasn't for a figure that only briefly jumped inside his vision, nabbing a few things, and then scurrying away like a coward and a thief he was. Seeing him again so soon was like salt on an open wound. 

 

*What are you doing here Blitzo?*

-(O)-

 

He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, his father used to say. Nor the brightest lightbulb. But now all the lightbulbs were dull and devoid of any light. Yet he prevailed, he and the flock. His flock. His people. 

 

Thinking back, he never imagined what it would all turn into. The alcohol had breached a dam he built in his heart, and all the spite and anger rushed forth. Made his tongue loose, his lips brazen, his claims bold. 

And the others agreed. Was it again the alcohol, or did the words strike true? It didn't matter, for it was then and there they decided on action. 

 

Out of all the things in his life, it was this island he loved the most. Not the money, not the women. Island was his mistress, in its special way. He could always find solace in the woods, among the trees and the bushes. He could always cool himself in the streams and lakes on a hot summer day. There was always a warm place to snuggle in, even on the darkest nights of winter. 

 

He didn't speak much as a youngin. He observed rather than asked, looking at the birds soaring high, at the waves crashing against the shore, again and again, in a calming rhythm that no one could stop.

 

Except the mainlanders. 

 

He remembered how they first tore down the old trees to make room for their railroad, for their highway, for their posts. How they blasted the ageless cliffs open to tear off precious metals, muddying the waters, poisoning the fish and scaring off the wildlife with their racket. It was all so loud, the explosives, the machines, the technology. 

 

At first, he was saddened but found the solution in escaping elsewhere. The island was big, and he always had another place to hide, to spend time alone, to think about things. How many days did he spend walking the woods, wondering what interesting things he could find there? Far too many to remember now. 

 

But as the days, weeks, months, years passed, the machines and the noise spread further and further, like a heinous tumor that saw no reason, cared not for the beauty it destroyed and devoured, enjoyed the suffering and the pain. 

 

Sadness turned to anger. He argued time and time again with his father about how it wasn't right, how they had to do something. But the old man wouldn't listen. After all, he was among those working for the mainlanders, who paid him in money that was probably a wise oak just a month ago. They tore away at their island and gave it back to them as a "better" version. A more "refined" version. Disgusting. 

 

After that night, things changed. The way he looked at the mainlanders, the way he looked at their machines, and their noise. The drunken stupor made way for enlightenment, the source of which he soon found to be Mother Nature. What else, who else, could be so clear and specific? 

 

He was no longer silent. His voice carried far, his eyes shot sparks as he spoke about the sacrilege made on the land of their forefathers, the land they had the duty to protect. 

 

And protect it, they did. 

 

At first, it was small things. Cut wires here, water-filled tank there, stealing, sabotage, roadblocks. But he knew it was just the start. 

 

Their cause attracted more wayward souls, lost in the dark sea of modern society. Outcasts in need of a place to belong. And the Talkers accepted everyone who wanted to hear the voice. 

 

They cared for the land, grew their crops in places they didn't have to cut entire forests. They were careful which trees had to be cut for other ones to grow bigger and stronger, and how many animals they had to hunt. Mother Nature allowed for its bounty to be harvested, but only if one respected it. She was a harsh mistress, quick to punish misbehaving, intolerant of those too weak to survive. 

 

When this year's snow came, he thought it was going to be a quiet, peaceful winter. They had all but driven the mainlanders out, their mines and camps closed, their vehicles only going one way. Out. 

 

But then the First Flare came. Mother Nature danced across the endless sky, while her son the Wind sang the coming of a new age. To some, it sounded shrill and cold. To him, it was music as sweet as the honey of deep woods. 

 

Just when he thought his task done, he was proven wrong. The dance revealed to him the way forward. Gave him the strength to do it, the will to see it through. 

 

The great cleansing started the same night. Under her timeless dance that spanned the sky, the Talkers rid the Island and their Mother of the pests that stained her beauty for far too long. Such was their zeal, such was their drive and dedication, that nothing could stop them. 

 

Depending on who led which raid, the towns across the island burned, or they were painted red, pillaged for everything valuable, the sinners dealt with in many ways. In one night, favors new and old all played out across the island. Old feuds and rivalries sparked up among the cleansing flames, and death was often the only ending. 

 

Still, despite their drive, they weren't able to clear the whole island in one night. Far too many places, far too little soldiers. Many had gotten away, but their chances were slim. Except for one group that made a seemingly impossible trek along a winding road, straight to that black fortress that stood atop its hill long before he was born. Now it looked down at them, laughing at their faces. Its walls were thick, its defenders unwilling to surrender themselves to their fate. 

 

Despite that, they still didn't change what they were. Rats in a trap, cornered and without a way out. He knew it wasn't worth his while to attack them first. It was better to deal with the stragglers and the coast before he strikes at the heart of darkness. To strike at that pathetic man that called himself an upholder of the law. Bah! Like he knew of any laws of nature. He was just another sinning puppet that made its choice.



 

Gathering his thoughts, he breathed deeply, walking to the cliff overlooking the lake below. There were little wisps of snow being carried over the icy surface by the Wind, always the playful one. Nothing like his sister Fog. She was always serious and patient, whereas the Wind was always rushing somewhere else, without any semblance of waiting. 

 

Right now, he needed patience. They rushed during the First Flare, but that was another circumstance entirely.  

 

Patience will bring freedom to the island, and to his people. No matter the cost, Mother Nature will breathe with full lungs once again.
With his mind clear, a smile crept on his face. He didn't feel the cold. He only felt happiness.

 

Notes:

Delving into a peculiar mind is always one helluva dive, especially one like this. I wonder how it would look like if a Psychonaut were to go in there. There'd probably be pine trees. Mmmm, I just love the smell of 'em.

Chapter 23: Prep work, hot work

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text




-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-

 

Having checked over the supplies they had, and the supplies taken off the dead heretics, Guy was satisfied with the large quantity of food and drink. If rationed properly, it would give him and his current group enough to last for at least a week, two if they really stretched the meals thin. Water was less important since they were basically surrounded by the stuff. It needed to be boiled before drinking however, and starting a fire wasn't always easy without a proper stove. 

 

He doubted that it would take them that long to reach the coast, but he didn't know how long this group would need to rest up for another trek over the island. His own wounds needed some time to heal too, but he could tough it out on the way there. 

 

The way he saw it, the sooner they can all get together, the better. Safety in numbers and all that, and more numbers, the better. Especially now that he knew of the danger that lurked across the island. How long till they notice their comrades missing? Will they send another, larger group? Probably. There was no telling how many of them there really were. And truth be told, he didn't want to find out.

 

Now that Loona and Octavia were back with Moxxie and Millie upstairs, he wasn't the center of attention, as the two girls seemed to have a lot of catching up to do with both. While the four of them talked upstairs, he worked on packing the sled properly, as well as taking out some of the stuff to use today. He gandered that they won't be going anywhere before tomorrow, so he could finally use the rest of today to get some proper sleep. 

 

Frederick and Oliver were out there somewhere, and he didn't know exactly where. He and the group passed more or less the entire western side of the region, save for a few backways and trails that ended in nowhere. There was the forestry lookout, and those trailers at the logging camp, both of which were inside of bear's territory. 

 

A dark thought emerged of his two friends torn apart by the beast before it came to the camp office. It wasn't entirely off the table after all. Alone, they had little chance of fighting it. 

 

Gulping down, he shook his head, swatting the thought out like an annoying fly. They were smarter than to go there by themselves. Whatever happened to them, Guy knew that they were alive. 

 

Scratching at his chin, he went over to one of the many cupboards, taking out a piece of paper and a pen. With the sound of muted murmurs from the floor above, he scribbled a long message intended for his two friends, should they get back here after he is gone. He had to scratch out a particular word here or there a few times, but as he neared the end of the paper, he was satisfied with the result. Pocketing it for now, he went ahead and delved into some of the supplies. His stomach eagerly agreed. 

 

---

 

Loona and Octavia both had plenty to talk about. From the info Guy shared, to Asmodeus impersonating Moxxie, there was one helluva talk to be had. But before they could even begin sharing the information with others, they had to first break it down for themselves. 

 

For starters, they didn't know if either of their fathers were anywhere close to the coast. And despite who the two were, they still worried that something might've happened to them. 

 

And then, there was the doubt. 

 

Stolas was a powerful Goetia. There was little (At least to Octavia's knowledge) that could harm him seriously. If he wasn't hurt, why would he be away for a whole week without saying anything? No messages, no notes. A rational part of her mind offered explanations to try and soothe the rising panic. Perhaps he didn't have a way to contact her. Or come back. After all, things were indeed weird in this place.

 

But still, despite telling herself not to overthink, one little part of her mind chimed a theory. He finally had enough and ran off with his imp in tow. 

 

Loona thought about Blitz while sitting next to her. She knew how tough and scrappy he was. And she knew how he acted about her. He wouldn't leave her alone for so long without leaving some sort of message, or without calling. Anything! Not unless he was in trouble. Or maybe...he finally saw her as trouble? Maybe he finally decided that he was better off...without her?! 

 

As the dark thoughts stirred within the two young girls, their hands sought each other for comfort, for safety, for something to hold them down. 

 

Neither wanted to say out loud the ideas that darkened their minds, but it was as if they knew what the other one was thinking. Without a word, Octavia moved closer to Loona, trying to move her arms around her. The older girl accepted, embracing her. Resting her chin on top of her head, she sighed. 

 

*Just don't think about it now...Focus on the important things.*

 

 -

 

With the group of demons finally fully together and devoid of humans, they spared no time in sharing their experiences. Loona spoke about the fight with the crazies and with the bear, even mentioning the rosary around Guys neck. Octavia and the imps showed her the map, as well as caught her up with what the King of Lust was doing here. 

 

"Ah still can't believe that that's what ya came up with," Millie said to her husband, pointing at the disguised Asmodeus. "Ah mean it was quick thinkin' and all, but it's still funny." 

 

Moxxie smiled in return as he checked her bandages, making sure none came loose since last night. He was still nervous about the whole talk Millie and Guy had. They were already on thin ice with him, and it was only a matter of time before they slip up and sink. Though truth be told, they could probably kill the man. No, definitely. But that would leave them without a guide. So they'd be back at square one. Despite all the hoops they had to jump through for him, Guy was valuable to their group as a guide. 

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-&-

-Blackrock Penitentiary-

 

The two sat by the fire, enjoying the fresh air mixed with the smoky aroma of burning wood. It wasn't a smell she was familiar with, but it was enjoyable. It brought this sense of...simplicity to her. Simple, yet nice things to enjoy. Everything seemed better as if things were finally moving forward. 

 

As she looked at the treetops in the far distance through her glasses, she moved closer to the mountie, finding him perfect to lean onto. She hadn't said a word, and as she rested her head on his shoulder, none came from him either. She grabbed his hand again, exploring the lines of his palm, tracing them up towards the ends and up to his fingers, while her eyelids became heavier and heavier to keep up. A quiet yawn escaped her, and the warmth of the fire suddenly became hotter, enveloping her body, inviting her to sleep. 

 

-

 

As she fell to sleep on his shoulder, he couldn't help but smile. He has given her some comfort with those aviators. It felt good to make at least one person happy. He didn't dare move his hand from her soft grip. Her fingers were soft and gentle, that of a lady. A complete opposite of his own. How much blood was on them? How much guilt and loss caused both because he did and didn't act? 

 

The guilt was his to wear. But he couldn't let it drag him down and distract him. Not yet. Neither he nor the others, nor her, were safe yet. 

 

Any contact with the Mainland, or any other place on the island for that matter, was dead since the Flare. To hope that help is on the way was foolish. It was best to assume they were on their own, and work that way. 

 

If he wants his plan to work, he'll need to make sure the prison can hold out without him. Defenses will need to be raised, barricades built, and people trained. The warden and the doctor will surely be able to hold down the fort while he's gone if he instructs them well. 

 

He sat by the fire for a while longer, until he decided enough time was spent. As much as he liked his position at the moment, he knew that he was stalling and wasting time. 

 

Holding her in his arms as gently as he could, he carried her once again across the yard, back to the infirmary. By now the sun had risen a nice distance up, its rays warming his exposed skin. 

 

Tucking her in, and opening one of the windows to let the stale air out, he spent a moment more by her side. He took off her glasses and placed them in the small case, leaving it on the nightstand for her to use later. 

 

With that, he was off. 

 

---

 

He called up everyone available in front of the main building. Forming them up into groups, he instructed each to their position and their work. What tools they had were all handed out, and soon the air was filled with the sound of wood chopping and digging. Fires were lit at each work site for the people to warm up, while a hunting party was sent out to find any animals they could. Mountie himself oversaw work on all the sites, making notes on a map while talking with the warden to make sure they were both on the same page. 

 

The steam tunnel connecting the prison with the power plant was cleared of any rubble still sitting around, and under the light of lanterns, a series of blockades and redoubts were created, with the power plant acting as the first line of defense. By clearing away the piled-up snow and any trees standing in the way, they formed clear sight lines without any cover. The wood was used as fuel, while some of the snow was turned into water. If it came to a siege, it was better to start preparing now and stock as much of the stuff as possible. 

 

In front of the main entrance to the prison, all that could be removed was removed, mostly fallen logs and branches. The vehicles parked in front of the main building were pushed against the gate, making sure the main entrance will be unusable. The barbed wire from the inner walls and the gate was taken down and prepped for use close to the entrance. Guard towers were reinforced with metal plating for better protection. Some of the wood was whittled down into spikes of varying sizes and placed at chosen points as traps. The frozen lake that flanked the road leading up to the prison was cracked and then covered with snow. If a horse or enough people walk over it at once, it will buckle under the weight, and the results won't be pretty. 

 

However, despite the preparations, there was still the question of the rocky cliffs surrounding the prison. They had no tools to blast them away, and covering all of them wasn't possible. However, the eastern part of the prison was more important, due to the hill just outside the prison walls the cultists could use for cover. The western cliff came up to the walls, and after them there was nothing but the exposed yard until the main building.

 

With the plans established, and the people busy for at least the next few days, the Mountie went about preparing his own force, with which he'll search and destroy any Forest Talker they can find. And with some luck, perhaps save some of the people still out there. 

 

 

-*-//-IV-//-*-

 

After feeding them and tending to their wounds, Morten and Rudy moved Ollie and Fred upstairs, where two beds waited for them. Morten was helped by Blitz to move it all into the same room before the imp and the owl prince disappeared outside. He could hear Blitz mention the horse as he snuck out the front door. 

 

With the two demons out of the house, and the two men taken care of, now the only one left was the small, hooded person in the corner. It didn't speak at all since it entered, but there did seem to come some sound from it, barely audible over the crackles of the fire. Rudy was upstairs when Morten approached it. 

 

"Hey, you awake?" He asked, crouching down to one knee, reaching out with his hand. The figure didn't move, and as he moved closer, Morten could hear the shallow breathing of a sleeping person. 

 

*Mmm, I can't just leave 'em here. Should check for wounds and stuff...*

 

With a bit of work, he moved the smaller figure closer toward him, managing to sneak an arm behind it, and one under the legs. 

 

A bit wobbly at first, he stood up, holding the small thing bridal style. It looked rather short, maybe somewhere close to Blitz's height. The legs felt rather loose though, like...weird heavy noodles? 

 

Bringing them over to the living room, Morten placed the sleeping person onto the couch, covering it with the blanket left there by the two demons. As he did, the hood slid back just enough to reveal the lower part of the sleeping face. 

 

A completely snow-white color covered the soft-looking skin, with a few smudges of ash and smoke half-wiped here and there. The mouth was half-open, revealing a set of sharp teeth and a forked tongue lazing between them. 

 

"Jesus fucking Christ" Morten grunted through gritted teeth, pulling back from the sleeping figure. What the hell was that thing? 

 

Feeling his heartbeat quicken, he moved away, still keeping his eyes on the sleeping thing. What was it? What kind of monster? 

 

Monster...wait a moment...

 

Blitz and Stolas. Ah.

 

Chuckling at the situation, he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course! What else would it be. 

 

"Just another demon. Hah. It should make the ice easier to break to those two." He said, catching himself in the choice of words. If Blitz was here, he'd probably point it out again. Heh.

 

---

 

Blitz led Stolas over to the barn as the wind kept trying to push him sideways. He was a bit wary of the new arrivals but decided it was best to let them rest for now, while he and Stolas talk. Or something. He wasn't quite sure what the prince would do.

 

At least he'll get to see horse again!

 

Opening the barn door with a loud creak of unoiled hinges, they walked inside, the wind carrying loose snowflakes after them. 

 

-

 

Stolas caught himself shivering from the short walk. He hadn't left the house since last night, and he didn't miss the walk from the place they teleported to here. He could barely even remember where it was exactly. But the smell of charred wood was strong. 

 

Crossing his arms, he rubbed at his shoulders for warmth, his beak clicking as he looked around. 

 

The windows let in the cold light from outside, the rays visible from the thick amount of dust flying in the air. Dark corners of the small building seemed like they drew all light into themselves, like black holes. There was only one horse stall in there, while the rest of the space was crammed with bags, boxes, shelves, and tables, all filled with various little bits and pieces. A strong smell of manure and moldy straw permeated through the air, causing the prince to wince involuntarily. He wasn't used to such smells. Paimon or his butler would probably say something about how it was "unbecoming of a Goetia" to be in places where such smells existed. The thought of his " father " made his eyes roll involuntarily. 

 

He searched with his eyes for his imp, catching the flick of his tail close to the horse stall. Moving closer, he snuck his fingers under Blitz's shirt, moving them down towards his chest. The imp shivered at the sudden touch, almost dropping the bucket full of food for the horse Stolas only now noticed. The mare was of brown dun color and looked to be somewhat past her prime, evident by her graying mane.

 

"Cold fingers!" Blitz yelled out, his tail lightly smacking against one of Stolas' legs.  

 

"Easy...they'll get warm again if you let them, darling," Stolas responded in a deep, saucy voice he often used when in one of his... moods . And the mood he was in right now was the one of demanding physical comfort, be it gentle...or  rough , heh.

 

He heard Blitz sigh, feeling him tensing up as if he was going to say something. Moments passed, the only sound between them that of the mare eating out of the bucket, and the wind passing over the aged structure. 

 

With a wooden  thunk , the bucket was hanged inside the stall. Blitz leaned his head against one of the arms, one of his horns gently rubbing close to the shoulder. 

 

-

 

"Stolas..." Blitz said, moving his arms up to grab the slender twigs that were the hands of his partner. 

 

"Yes Blitzy?" He heard the prince say, his voice so sickeningly sweet, so close to his ear, filled with happiness and wanting. 

 

He froze, unable to utter the words. The feeling of the fingers caressing his chest, exploring every part of it, and reaching deeper, was too good to resist. They warmed up quickly, just as Stolas said. Felt nice on his skin. It felt nice to be touched in this way. Like someone actually wanted you despite who and what you were. A failure.

 

*Ah...fuck it...just for a little while longer is okay I guess*

 

Grabbing the prince's arms, he leaned back into him, nuzzling into his arm. The prince took it as a confirmation, letting out a happy-sounding hoot. 

 

-

 

The old mare paid little attention to the two weird figures that brought food, as she was busy eating it all up. The smaller one, she recognized. He was nice, he brought food and brushed her mane. He also sometimes spoke to her. The words sounded comforting. 

 

The taller one, she hadn't seen before. But it seemed to pay little attention to her, so she wasn't entirely interested either. 

 

The pair went to lay in some of the straw piled up in the corner, and from the sounds that came soon after, it sounded like horseplay.

Notes:

Hey folks! Happy first month of 2023! Now it's February time.
I hope that the newer chapters are to your liking, and that a lul in action is forgivable.

I wish you all the best, take care, and keep being awesome! Thank you for everything

Also, now I'm now a part of a Discord Server called Helluva Boss Central! If you want, you can check it out via this link- https://discord.gg/sHFkbvrJa7
I'd also like to suggest other great fanfics if you haven't checked them already- House of Asmodeus, Backstage, One Helluva Broken Day, and Owls Hell That Ends Well (You can find all of them in my bookmarks ;)

Chapter 24: Sleep, and good intentions

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-/-I-/-*-
-Mystery Lake- 3rd Day-

 

The salted, spiced meat went great with dry crackers and jarred pickles, and washing it down with a cool grape soda was like a cherry on top. He had to hand it to them, they knew their way around preparing veal. That and throwing mean punches among other things. 

As he sat comfortably atop his unfurled bedroll, Guy nodded his head as he looked to the sky through the shattered windows. For a moment, he felt peaceful, the hunger dealt with, and things simmering down, at least for the moment. The wounds didn't ache as much, he was warm, and he could rest. 

Massaging his wrists and ankles, he stretched out for a bit, feeling like a nice afternoon rest would do good for his body and mind. 

Before he did so, he moved to cover the shattered windows with tarps and curtains, making sure the wind stays outside. 

Moving his sleeping bag to a nice secluded corner at the back of the camp office, Guy took his time preparing a nice and cozy place just for himself. While there were perfectly fine beds upstairs, he felt it inappropriate to try and sleep there while the others were awake. Plus, they were free to talk normally if he stuck to his quiet corner downstairs. 

Wrapping himself up inside the bedroll, he breathed out a sigh of relief as he let his body relax. The muscles loosened across his body from head to toe, and joints felt like old pressure was moved from them, giving way to relief and comfort. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to think of nothing in particular, to ease the coming of sleep. But despite his efforts, a few things were bugging him, all of them tripping over eachother in an effort to be the loudest in his mind. Still, their annoyance quelled down as nature took over. With a full stomach and a burden off his shoulders, the body powered down, pulling the racking brain along with it. The slow, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping man was soon the only quiet sound downstairs.

 

---

 

The imps had their fill of food and drink. Millie reached out for her husband, calling him to her embrace for an afternoon nap. The pair nestled down on the top bunk, hidden beneath blankets that moved here and there every so often, leaving to the imagination what might be happening beneath. Loona swore she heard a quiet giggle from there at one point. 

Asmodeus fiddled with his clothes on the sofa, while the girls sat on the bottom bunk, each doing their own thing. Octavia looked over the map of the island, occasionally taking a sip from a can of Summit Soda. Loona hadn't tried the drink, but she figured it was pretty much like any other soda without fruit in its name- fizzy, sweet, and nothing special.

Loona busied herself with a small booklet that she found tucked under the mattress titled "History of Great Bear Island". She would've pulled out the Grimoire, but she didn't want to have any kind of conversation about it with the Prince of Lust sitting nearby. Though she wondered if he could feel its power nearby. She didn't know much about the high demons to be sure. 

Now that she thought about it, it was kind of weird how they stayed in the mortal realm, instead of going back home for better equipment and stuff. Though, a small voice in her head spoke about a myriad of things that could go wrong, not to mention the fact Guy could question the disappearances.

Guy Guy Guy...what a human. Peculiar just as all the sinners down in the Pride Ring. Except of course with much less tentacles on him. How would he react if he knew the truth? Despite her fighting skill and those with her, Loona wouldn't like to find out. A gut feeling told her it wouldn't be pretty or quick. 

What will happen to him when they find Blitz and the prince? Will they just let him go? Revealing the truth to him could shatter his mind. But then there'd be no loose ends. 

That is if they don't find his friends. He didn't say much about them, but from what she gathered, and from what she saw, they were tough enough to survive here. If they fight even half as fiercely as Guy, they'll be trouble for all of them. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by the snoring of the owl princess next to her. She had gone into an afternoon nap, still holding the map in her arms. 

Seeing her made Loona yawn as well. Putting the book next to the bed leg, she moved to put Octavia in a more comfortable position, covering her with the blanket. The younger girl instinctively snuggled into the fabric, her face disappearing under it.

With her sitting place compromised, Loona stood up, wandering over to the stove. Tossing a few pieces of wood and sticks in, she went to lie down in the other bunk bed close by, too bored to be awake alone. Covering herself over the head with a blanket, her mind soon drifted away from the conscious, and into the state of dreams.

 

-

 

And so the downstairs and the upstairs were both quiet. Everyone was asleep, from the human, the imps, and even the royalty.

Well, almost all of the royalty. 

Asmodeus sat on the couch, having stopped pretending he was making his clothes just a little bit better looking. 

Slowly getting up, he quietly made his way downstairs, clutching the shaped piece of plastic in his pocket. 

He noticed it when he was outside with the others, peeking out from one of the bags on the sled, its distinct red-orange color making it stand out from the other things inside. 

It felt rather light, but when he checked it, there was a shell inside. All it needed was some of his special touch, and it would be perfect for what he intended.

After hearing of the things happening on the island, the fear inside the demon for his favorite grew in intensity, twisting his insides just as painfully as the spear wound. He needed to get Fizz back, as fast as possible. When he's with him, he'll be able to protect him. 

Stepping outside, he walked some way away from the wooden building, up to the place where the frozen bodies lay on a pile. With their jackets no longer on them, they looked rather thin, though the fact they were dead maybe played a part in the looks. 

Pulling out the flare gun, Asmodeus cocked the hammer. He imbued the shell inside with some of the magic power he had left within him, knowing it will be a clear message to Fizz when he sees it. 

Aiming high, he steadied his hand for a moment, before pulling the trigger. 

 

-?-?-?-
-Forlorn Muskeg-

 

The path through the frozen bog appeared treacherous, but only to those who didn't know the safe routes. Traveling around the weak ice required patience and constant attention, for one wrong step could be the difference between crossing safely, or getting drenched. 

But only if one needed to cross the ice in the first place.

To get to his cabin, Jeremiah needed only to follow the train tracks to the tunnel. After that, it's a quick walk through the woods. 

It didn't always use to be like this. There were many more trees before, and there were natural paths through the bog during the warmer seasons.  The roots of the trees prevented erosion, and any excess water would quickly be consumed by them, preventing major flooding. 

However, when the rail line came through, the rails needed to be put on top of the sleepers to be assembled. Despite some protest, the orders from above were clear and without compromise- Use the wood close to the rail for the sleepers, the deadline must be met. 

And so, once the rail passed through, most of the region was void of trees. And without the trees, the bog settled in, swallowing the land, creating a bleak sight for anyone passing through. 

As he walked past an old hunters blind, a bright red light surged high in the sky some ways ahead of him. It looked like a launched flare, but somehow brighter, much brighter than any he had seen in his life. 

It rose higher and higher until it reached its zenith, at which point it began to slowly, slowly descend back down. Judging from the distance, it was probably launched from somewhere around Mystery Lake. 

With a grumble, the old trapper continued his walk, quickening his pace. 

Notes:

A chapter without anyone talking! And quite a short one at that sadly.
The work's been kicking my ass these last two weeks :P

I hope you guys are having a better time over yonder. I'll try to push a new chapter and make it much longer to compensate, akin to chapter 8. Again, sorry for the wait and the length.

Chapter 25: Back into the great outdoors

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-*-/-I-/-*-
-Mystery Lake- 4th Day- Morning


Guy slept for longer than he intended. Instead of an afternoon nap, he up and slept through the entire afternoon and night, waking up in the early morning hours. The air was frigid, and he felt he needed a good fire to get himself going properly. 

Since the potbelly downstairs was not exactly in the best condition, he walked up to join the others. The fire had long gone out, and the only piece of light upstairs came from the stars shining outside. The sky held some clouds, but it luckily wasn't a complete overcast.

Crouching in front of the stove, he flicked a match against the case, the friction sparking the flame into life. 

As the fire steadily grew bigger and stronger, Guy looked outside, focusing on looking for any indication of what time it was. By the faint glow coming from behind the faraway mountains, he assumed it was around 4 or 5 in the morning, still too early to head out. It was dark and extremely cold outside right now.

 It was best to wait just an hour or two more, and then head through the ravine towards the coast. 

While waiting for the others to wake up in silence, Guy put some water to heat up. Tea and coffee would surely be welcome in the morning, and he doubted they would skip breakfast. He himself didn't feel quite ready to eat. 

With the water slowly warming up, he took a look around. The girls were sleeping in the lower bunks, both barely visible under the blankets. Millie stirred on one of the upper bunks, while Moxxie seemed to have dozed off on the couch. 

He wondered, what was their story? What did they do to end up here? 

Just as he thought about it, Moxxie stirred from sleep, his bright green eyes blinking awake, as the large man stretched. 

 

"Good morning." Guy said in a low tone, careful not to wake the others.

 

-

 

Asmodeus was startled by the human sitting in front of the stove. He didn't understand where he was for a moment, and needed a few seconds to recall where he's at, and who's he there as. 

 

"Good morning." He replied back, giving a slight nod as he moved to sit on the sofa. 

 

"Coffee or tea?" 

 

"Mmm, tea's good." Asmodeus answered. Usually, he took coffee, but that was when he needed to keep sharp for work at the club. Tea will do just as well here.

He watched as the human took out two tea bags from within a large backpack. He must've known the inside of that thing like the back of his hand, considering how he fished for the small items in relative darkness, the glow of the fire not much of a light source. 

"So, Mox...Slept well?" Guy asked him while checking the water inside the kettle. 

Did he sleep well? A night without his Fizzy felt lonely and...painful in a way. He feared for his jester, especially when he had no way of helping him. He didn't know where he was, just like almost a year ago, when Fizz disappeared without a word, only to come back with all of his limbs replaced by those prostheses. Because of his brother...

The memory of his little jester, a small shadow, well hidden behind the long diner table. When he moved to touch him, only for his good shoulder to be far too hard, like metal. His arms, his legs, all replaced. Because of the contract. 

And now, after all that time, here he was again, alone, without knowing where his favorite was. 

---

By the look Mox had on his face (or at least what little part of it he could see under the scarf), Guy had apparently chosen to ask one of the worst questions he could. Either that or the big guy dozed off to sleep again. 

Well, whatever it was, Guy decided it would be wise to just let him be, and keep quiet. 

He waited in relative silence for the water to boil, watching the fire tongues dance in their little place inside the stove. Hmm, he hadn't danced in a long while...Hadn't listened to music either. Maybe once they all find who they need, they could sing and dance...Once they find who they need. 

The cultists are going to make that more difficult. Wait, the cultists! The cultist weapons! He knew he forgot something!

 

He didn't give too much attention to the array of weapons they recovered yesterday, though he made a mental note that he should. Having more firepower would help them with every aspect of survival, from hunting to fighting. Now, with the water boiled, he moved back downstairs to inspect them, lighting a storm for lighting.

The hatchet and the machete were professionally sharpened, their grips reinforced with leather straps and thin cloth bound tightly to the wooden handles, making it easy to handle, and hard to slip. The blades, one of which was dirty with streaks of something black, were without chips or dents, nice and straight. 

The rifle had a dark green finish to it, with the color worn out at a few places, revealing the wood underneath. There were six tally marks scratched right under the bolt, the victims of the previous owner. Ugh.

 

 

Both revolvers appeared in good enough condition, properly cleaned and oiled, though the grips did seem a bit worn out, perhaps due to the sweaty palms. 

Considering the only weapon they had on them was his revolver and blades, this was a great addition. Girls could get the revolvers, while Moxxie could hold the rifle. Then again, they can always agree between themselves who'll take what. One thing was for sure- he was getting the big axe. Shame that the other one was lost in the lake. 

Last, but not least, were the two hunting bows. Guy didn't know much about archery, but the weapons looked like they were made with care and knowledge, the string perfectly taut between the two limbs. At least on one of the bows. The other one had its string broken, and without any way to replace it, it was useless. 

 

Still, the one still useable bow could be a very good tool, especially for hunting. Shame he wasn't exactly skilled in knowing how to use it. He tried to ready an arrow or two, pulling the string back, imitating the movies, but found it too straining on his wounded shoulder to hold the position. Despite that, it was light enough to just be packed along with other supplies on the sled, or for someone else from the group to hold it. 

The homemade arrows were all flexible yet strong, the tips sharpened and nicely shaped though they looked like they came out of a makeshift smithy. So these guys made their own arrowheads too huh?




Revolver and rifle ammunition was all dry and kept tightly packed inside the small carton boxes with "Bullseye" written at the top. Checking individual bullets, Guy deduced it was industrial. Guess they weren't that self-sustaining. Where would one even find a machine to make bullets on this island anyway?

 

With the most important weapons out of the way, Guy took a look at the bandolier of improvised explosives. The tin cans had a thin string of wire wrapped around the outer part of the cylinder, going from one end to the other, from which a thick fuse protruded.

A homemade pipebomb. Or in this case a canbomb? Bombcan? Whatever the name, he experienced its effect firsthand and knew it would be good against anything they come across. Though, should he keep the bandolier to himself, or give everyone in the group one for emergencies? Eh, he'll decide on that when he gets to it. 

 

---

Octavia woke up from a dreaming memory. It was the one where dad told her about the falling stars, and how they'll one day go see them, and nothing will be able to keep him from being there with her. 

Grumbling under her breath, she moved under the blanket. When did she get under it?

It appeared to be much darker than when she dozed off to sleep. Did she sleep till the middle of the night or something?

Looking around for Loona, she spotted her sister sitting on the other bed, lazily stretching out. 

Wait...did she just thought of her as her sister? Huh...she was something like a big sister to her in the past few days, encouraging her and keeping her safe. 

 

But she's an adopted hellhound, and not Goetia royalty...

 

*I guess that's true...shame that it is.*  She thought to herself. What would it be like, if the two were real sisters? 
There'd probably be more feathers involved than fur, heh. 

 

"Morning" she said, to which the older girl only nodded, giving a grumble. Guess she didn't like to wake up either. For what it's worth, at least this was better than waking up to her parents fighting. 

That got her thinking. She knew dad was somewhere here, but where was mom?

She said she was going to some family meeting. Was she back home by now? Would she lose her mind when she doesn't find her or her father? 

 

Octavia gulped. Knowing her mother, there was bound to be screaming, and the servants are probably in for plenty of bruises. She tossed them like they were plates. And she'll have to listen to it all when they come back.

*Ugh, dammit dad...*

 

-

 

The girls took some time to fully wake up, even with the coffee kicking like a mule, or rather like a moose. M&M's shared one cup between themselves, Moxxie barely taking a sip, stating how it was bitterly undrinkable. Millie didn't exactly enjoy the drink either but finished most of it. Waste not, want not. 

 

Asmodeus kept quiet, the only sound coming from him being an occasional sip of tea. Guy had gone downstairs to prep everything for travel, allowing the imps to stretch out a bit. Millie still had to watch her wound, but it was already better than yesterday. 

 

They enjoyed breakfast consisting of spiced meat (Millie mentioned it reminded her of family barbecue somewhat), crackers, pickles, and tomato soup (Loona was becoming well-versed in preparing the canned delicacy).

Loona decided to risk letting off her human disguise for a short while, just for at least a few minutes of freedom. Octavia didn't have the same issues with her own form, seeing as how Goetias were naturally more adept at channeling and preserving magic. Though the transformation did cause Asmodeus to give the hellhound a curious glance.

 

"HEY! Millie, can you come over here?" Guy yelled from downstairs, causing M&M's to jump under the blankets, while Loona nearly spilled her coffee as she tried to hide. Having Guy see what looked like a wolf in human clothes wouldn't go too well for any of them.

Like he was burned, Asmodeus jumped from the couch, the old furniture piece groaning in response. With a few steps, he was by the broken railing, leaning down at Guy. 

 

"Quiet, she's still sleepy. What is it?" 

 

"Oh, my bad, sorry. I just wanted to ask what weapons would she prefer to carry? And also which size does she wear?" 

 

"Pardon?" 

 

"For the jacket, for the jacket, relax big guy. The jackets of these cultists are top-notch, better than anything we have on hand. There's five of them, and I wanted to know if she could wear one of them, or will they be too big."

 

"Mhh...give the jackets here. We'll sort ourselves out." Asmodeus answered curtly, a slight irritation in his tone. 

 

"Alright, just a sec, I have to get them up there..."

 

"Just hand them to me, you don't have to get up." 

 

"Oh...okay."

 

---

 

Handing the jackets, Guy stepped outside, grinding his teeth. 

There was no reason to be so pissy so early in the morning, and it was indeed rubbing him the wrong way, but he shouldn't push the matter. He should just let it go, and focus. 

 

Focus on what, the fact there was a full building of people, and he couldn't join them? Urgh...

A small part of him itched to get back to the familiar faces that didn't mind him being around.

 

---

 

Asmodeus tossed the jackets onto the table, before sitting back down on the couch, frowning behind his scarf. 

He was in a bad mood for a myriad of reasons, and almost all of them could be pinned on Guy. 

 

Remembering the bad memories, then being too loud for his taste, not to mention the poor choice of words, all of it worked against Guy today. Especially because Asmodeus still couldn't feel a damn thing from him! He could hear hurt in his voice, but nothing flared up. Not a single trace of a feeling, of anything! And that made him annoyed and irritated! Who was this mortal to be unfeelable? Not to mention that he felt cranky without either his favorite, or any good feelings to feed off of. And that stupid wound! Urgh. 

Not only that, but the fact he had to be dressed head to toe in this unfashionable getup, posing as the significant other for an imp that hit Fizz over the head with a guitar...Urgh, this was torture!

"Hey, uhh, King? Everythang alright?" Millie asked, poking her head from beneath the blankets. 

 

Shooting her a glance, he only scoffed in return. He wasn't in the mood to talk. The only thing keeping him from storming out on all of them was the hope his trick from yesterday would work, and that he'd meet with Fizz soon enough that way. Then, the two of them could open a portal and be out of here, without having to worry about stupid mortals anymore. 

 

---

 

Octavia looked at the Deadly Sin, making a quiet gulp. He seemed rather irritated, and she didn't quite know why. Whatever it was, Octavia assumed it would be unwise to try and pry it from him. 

She had a feeling Guy would be much more approachable. 

 

"I'll...go for some fresh air." She said, grabbing her jacket as she walked downstairs. As the sound of her boots died down, Loona revealed herself up from under the blanket, eyes darting left and right. Dammit, she barely heard anything under that blanket! But still, whew, talk about a close call. She should maybe try buying a lottery ticket when they get back home? Nah, those things are always a scam.


Octavia stepped out onto the porch, closing the doors behind her. Guy was leaning onto the fence, watching somewhere in the distance as the sky lit up little by little.

 

"Morning" She said. He nodded in return. 

"Indeed. You rested?"

"I guess...hey, about Moxxie..."

"Yeh?"

 

She took a moment to think about it. While she didn't know the true reason why Asmodeus was so hissy, she could gather from yesterday's talk that the lack of his favorite, and the lack of energy sources must be taking their toll on him. She gave a tired sigh at the thoughts.


"Please...please don't take it the wrong way. He's just...not a morning person. Well, early morning. We all know it's been a rough few days, and some just have it worse than the others...especially when their partners are hurting." She said, meaning Millie.

 

Guy didn't answer immediately, but she could see him squeezing his fingers, rubbing his hands. His jaw worked as well, while his mouth was closed. Signs of the cogs above turning. Giving both him and the King time to relax and calm down was crucial if they wanted to make it out of here in one piece. 

"I suppose I'll keep my distance from the pair for the time being...there's too much on my plate as is, I don't need another worry added to it."

Straightening out, he tapped the wooden fence. 

"It's almost time now. We should ready up for the trip. Tell the others to gather up. I'll prep downstairs and wait for you."

 

---

 

This time, there was no way to sell to Guy that someone would be staying behind. They were all going together. Lucky for them, Guy left the sled to be pulled by Moxxie, much to his grumbling. Still, the large disguised demon complied. 

The imps went back into the backpacks, though this time instead with Octavia, Moxxie went with the fake Moxxie. That way he would be able to keep an eye out for threats and keep an eye out on Asmodeus too. Millie was back with Loona, wrapped in a comfortable blanket, at the expense of fewer supplies being loaded into Loona's backpack. When they discussed why, Moxxie whispered to the girls how he didn't feel safe leaving Millie so close to Asmodeus while he was in such a mood. 

With the bags and the sled packed, the group was set to venture forth toward the coast. Following the rail for the most part, and then descending to the highway, it shouldn't take them any longer than a day or so. 

Guy put the girls in the center, while Moxxie would drag the sled with Millie on it behind the group. If need be, they could always stop for a breather. He'd lead from the front, making sure the path ahead was clear of trouble.

Before they set out, he handed out the blades and firearms to them all. 
Octavia got Guys' revolver since he would be holding the rifle. He checked with her how to reload and properly hold it, making sure that she'll only hurts whatever she fires at, and not herself. 

Loona and Moxxie both got the cultist's revolvers, with Loona taking the bow, and Moxxie the machete. Loona showed to be rather capable with the firearm, even twirling it a few times, similar to one bodacious major.

Deciding to keep it safe, Guy opted to keep the grenades on himself. Though he did hand one to Loona. She did have the only other lighter after all.

 

As they left the camp office behind them, the wind started to pick up the pace, carrying the snow from the trees down and across the white ground. The sun shone at their backs, while loose clouds were moving to hug the mountains that stood in the distance.

The colors of the sky above bled into different shades of violet, purple, and pink, the far west corners still holding the dark blue of the night, along with the shiniest stars still barely visible. 

Snow crunched under their boots as the group walked along the covered railway. There were no prints or tracks of anyone else in front of them, nor could they hear any animals in the distance. Not even the noisy murders of crows were anywhere to be heard or seen. 

Guy wished that the handcar was on their side of the rail, but the darn thing was at the coast, probably half buried in the snow at the train unloading area just outside the collapsed tunnel. It was a useful little tool for covering distance faster than walking but relied on the ones who had the cart to use it. No radios meant no way of calling for it when needed. Then again, if they had a darned radio, they would've been using it for more important things than calling for the handcar. 

 

With rifle in hand, he trekked out in front of the others, checking the many corners along their way for any possible intruders. Several log piles up ahead were a good place for an ambush, but as they walked closer, there was no one waiting for them, save for a barely visible corpse curled up beside one of the logs. The poor man froze to death trying to escape who knows what, the cold preventing the animals from being able to tear him apart for food. The meat was too hard for the fangs and the claws, and the eyelids were frozen shut, the birds unable to pierce through. 

 

The cold didn't affect them now that they had the new jackets. They were comfortable and warm. A bit bulky, and with plenty of pockets. The leftover twigs and small branches were a bother however.

 

Just as they were about to reach the train bridge, a chilling sight caught their attention. 

 

The Hydro Dam building, the largest symbol of civilization in the region, stood charred and destroyed. The structure had collapsed in on itself, with light snow covering the debris. 

 

Rushing forward, Guy burst through the chainlink fence, kicking up snow behind him as he ran towards the entrance. The base of the building still held out, but the large windows had been destroyed. Glass, shattered by the immense temperature that the fire created, cracked under his boots as he stopped at the doorway. The snow surrounding the building had melted away, with only a small part of storm fall remaining, probably settling there after the fire. 

 

There, by the warped doors, he saw something that made his heart shudder and sink. 

 

It was Frederick's rifle.

 

The poor thing looked like it had been left out for a few days, the wood darker than usual, and the metal frozen over. 

 

But, if it was here...where was its owner? 

 

Guy looked to the crumbled, devastated ruin, and felt his knees wobble. 

 

---

 

The others watched as Guy fell to his knees, shoulders slumped. 

Loona rushed forward, afraid that something might've happened with their only guide. 

 

"Dude, you alright?" She asked, looking at his masked face. 

 

His mouth was partially open, and she could see his lip quiver. 

 

"Guy. Hey, Guy!" Loona shouted, crouching down next to him, grabbing him by the good shoulder.  

 

"The rifle..." Guy said, pointing at the frozen weapon leaning against the wall. 

 

"... it's...it's Fredericks..." He uttered, his voice sounding like it was about to break. 

 

---

 

This...this couldn't be happening! This has to be some sort of mistake? It can't be that those two were inside, it-it-it doesn't make any sense, why would they be in there??? How did this even happen? Why was this rifle here? Why wasn't it with Fred? 

 

The questions swirled around his mind, the world around him blurred at the edges of his vision, the sounds muted. His lungs needed air, but he could hardly breathe, there...there was too much water. W-water?!

 

Dark, dark water. Lake. Point of light far away above him, going away. 

 

Can't...breathe...

 

As he kept sinking, a small figure appeared at the point of light. Its shape was strange, looking almost like...a wolf? 

 

It reached for him, its hand coming down lower and lower, until it grasped at his body, pulling him up. He kept hearing it say something, heavily muted. There was too much water around him. 

 

"Breathe."

 

Breathe? How was he supposed to breathe? There was too much water!

 

"Breathe."

 

...

 

"Breathe."

 

He listened, expecting to draw water into his lungs. But there was nothing else to do. 

Inhaling, he felt the pressure dissipating, the darkness bleaching out, the muting quiet lifting. Air filled his lungs, his chest expanding. 

 

"Breathe."

 

He exhaled, his breath pushing back the darkness and the pressure. 

Again, he inhaled.

The figure in the light grew closer and closer, resembling a wolf, or a hound...he couldn't say, it wasn't exactly clear. 

 

"Breathe."

 

The darkness lifted, revealing a young girl with bright red eyes, staring at his own. Her lips moved, and she seemed to have a worried expression. 

 

"Breathe."

 

---

 

He was back. 

 

Loona kept her grip on him tight, afraid he'd fall. The focus in his eyes returned, and they centered on her. His breathing steadied, and after a long while, he blinked. 

 

He turned his head, looking around without a word. His eyes tracked the burnt dam, before falling to the ground. Without a word, he collapsed forward, wrapping his arms around her, lowering his head onto her shoulder. Loona winced at the contact, her instincts wanting to push him away. But she held firm. 

She heard broken muted sobs, and her heart tightened. It was a horrible thing to lose your friends. Especially when you know they were true and honest to you. 

 

Guy kept softly crying into her shoulder, holding onto her for dear life, letting out the agony.

 

---

 

It hurt him so much. His whole head hurt like he was beaten with a hammer. His eyes burned and stung. His throat felt sore. 

He felt afraid to let go of Loona, of the little comfort the embrace gave. He felt her patting his back, mumbling something close to his ear. It sounded gentle. 

 

Why God? Why did they have to die? They were good men, they didn't deserve such fate! 

 

---

 

Octavia, Moxxie, and Asmodeus observed the pair embracing down on the ground, unsure of what was happening. 

 

Octavia wanted to rush over there to see what was happening. But at the same time, she feared it wouldn't help. 

 

Moxxie felt nervous. What was happening with the human? Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good, that's for sure. 

 

Asmodeus...didn't want to feel. Lifting his antennae, he felt sadness coming from the pair, but only from the disguised hellhound. Not much, but noticeable enough. It didn't bode well. 

 

To try and distract himself from the bad thoughts he felt were close to resurfacing, the disguised Sin left his place at the sleds. He walked to the small clearing close to the rail they followed, flanked on both sides by rusted trailers. One of them had its front door brutally mangled, with the old color scraped off at places of the hardest impacts. A wild animal perhaps?

 

Just as he was going to check it out a bit closer, a glint out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

 

Turning his head, he saw it again, something shiny reflecting meager sunlight straight into his eyes.

 

Approaching it, he could see a small piece of red cloth barely sticking out of the snow. Crouching down to pick it up, he traced the fabric down to a grip and pulled. 

 

The shining object revealed itself under the layer of snow to be a large spear, identical to the one he was pierced with days ago. He grasped the weapon with both hands, inspecting it from the sharp tip to the rounded end of the staff. It wasn't an angelic weapon, not that it could kill him if it was one anyway. Only if wielded by one of his heavenly siblings. And he was rather sure those weren't anywhere around here. Which was...somewhat strange. Then again, the affairs of Heaven didn't concern him anymore.

 

What did concern him, however, was a series of strange markings etched into the staff from the base of the spearhead, down to the wings. They were barely noticeable, but tightly inscribed one under another. It didn't look like any language he ever saw, but he wasn't much of a grammatologist.

 

This opened up a few questions. One, were these markings actually doing anything, or was it just something the creator or the user put in for personal reasons or detailing? 

 

Two, to whom did these spears belong? If it belonged to the same group Guy was a part of, he could get some explanation from him, although he would first need to get on his good side again.

 

Third...wait, what was that in that tree line over there?

 

-?-?-?-

 

The old trapper ducked into the snow, blending with the ground as he held his breath. A careless slip-up, not up to his standard. Then again, the whole day wasn't ordinary. Nothing was right.

---

 

By the time he reached his old cabin, the sun was close to setting. He didn't expect the old tunnel to collapse, but in hindsight, it was a possibility he could have accounted for. In future, he will.

 

To find his cabin not like he left it was not really a surprise. There was ash in the stove, a lot of it, and items had been moved here and there. Someone spent a decent amount of time here, and he had a pretty decent guess of who it could have been. 

 

What was a surprise was his safe unlocked and pushed to the side. Both it and the compartment underneath were empty. Another possibility he could have accounted for. He should have carried the key instead of leaving it here. 

 

To find his stash of very valuable loot pilfered had put the old trapper in a nastily angry and bitter mood. Those damned boys! 

 

Despite that, there was enough restraint in himself, that he stayed his hand, and stopped himself from marching straight to the camp office right then and there. 

 

He spent the night in his old cabin like he did for years that were now long in the past. The smell wasn't the same as it used to be. Too many new and different people passed through. There was a barely noticeable hint of sulfur in the air for some reason. And rosewood. Not something people would notice, but his sense of smell was well-developed from years of trapping, hunting, and living in the great outdoors. 

 

Sleep was difficult. The thought of his spears gone didn't want to let up, and it was only after midnight that he managed to catch a few hours of sleep. 

 

Waking up only four hours later, he was grumpy but didn't complain. Not that there was anyone to complain to, and he wasn't about to start talking to himself. He ventured outside, following old trapper paths through the hilly woodland, until he was overlooking the camp office across the rail clearing, keeping to the safety of the tree line. A faint light glared from the upstairs window. It was too early to tell if someone was up or not. Keeping his binoculars trained on the dirty window, he waited to catch a glimpse of movement. 

 

He didn't have to wait long. A man, moving from a sitting position in front of the stove, walking away, swallowed by the darkness until he lit a storm lantern. The old trapper watched as he moved to walk downstairs, but the vision there was blocked by tarps covering the broken window. What had happened there? 

 

Like he was in a hunt, he lay low and quiet as he waited, his handmade cloak of pelts, fur, and an old winter camouflage net, acting as a pseudo cloak, kept him warm and hidden for hours. 

 

And hours indeed passed. One, two, three, he waited, his eyes examining both the camp office, and the area around it. He noted the uneven imprints in the snow some way away, around black rocks jutting out of the ground. What happened there? He would have to wait to find out. 

 

It seemed to get more lively inside the creaking building as dawn inched closer. He caught sight of a smaller figure, a girl, passing by the window, and then of another, sporting a wild mane of white hair. 

 

Then something weird happened. 

 

He couldn't quite discern if it was some mere trick of the light, his old eyes, or the light sleep, but at one point it seemed as if the white-haired girl was a wolf standing like a man. 

 

Just as he was about to wipe his eyes, did the creature disappear, only for the girl to appear back long minutes after, normal again?

He uttered a grumble as he reached for his canteen. 

 

Then, he saw the man again. 

 

He wore a red sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, not exactly an attire of a seasoned outdoorsman. His body was rather slender like it missed some pieces. A lack of food perhaps? 

 

The scraggly beard seemed like a recent addition. The hair had overgrown in some places, and both could use a good trimming. No one needed lice on their hands (Or rather, their hair) in a place like this. Hygiene was important.

 

The man leaned onto the fence of the porch, appearing distressed. A girl came out sometime later, but not the white-haired one. 

 

She had a rather pale face. Almost as white as snow surrounding them. Sporting a pair of baggy jeans and a Cowichan sweater easily two or three numbers her size, she appeared quite young. Then again, it could just be the clothes. 

 

The two spoke for a bit, after which the girl went inside. The man followed soon after. 

 

In the next half an hour he saw the white-haired girl again, and a tall, broad person he could only assume to be a man, covered head to toe in clothes, with only his eyes visible. Or at least what the trapper assumed to be eyes. The way they reflected and looked, they could've well enough been a pair of weird goggles. What eyes shine green anyway?

 

Both of their backpacks seemed off though. Like something inside moved a bit every so often. He wasn't sure what was at play again, light, eyes, or sleep. 

 

Though what got his attention the most were the jackets. 

Forest Talker jackets, almost greatcoats in size, their base brown smeared ower with gray and white for winter camouflage, adorned with twigs and branches of varying sizes to act as both partial insulation and camouflage. Some seemed to have been torn off, and even more were taken off by their wearers as they waited for the others. 

 

The small girl joined them a few moments after, and the first man came out last. His face covered in a dark green balaclava, he resembled the IRA fighters, though lacking a beret or shades. He too wore one of their jackets. 

 

The four had a sled that Goggles pulled behind the group, while the IRA man went first, the girls in the middle. He spotted a familiar bow being carried by the White Hair, and an even more familiar rifle in the hands of the IRA. 

 

They went off towards the rail, and then moved to travel on it towards the Hydro Dam.

 

As they slowly made their way, the old trapper finally left his place. Staying low, he moved like a rabbit, making a few steps and then stopping, perking his ears as he looked the way of the group. 

After passing the rail clearing, he made his way to the camp office, entering through the front door, on alert if someone was still inside. 

 

But all he found was a note posted to a wooden pillar. That, and again the smell of sulfur. And rosewood. 

 

"Frederick. Oliver.

 

If you are reading this, we have yet to meet again. I have seen your message at the old cabin, but didn't find you here. However, someone else found us. 

Some weird nature cult attacked me and the group I was leading here from a mountain town. We dealt with them, but then the bear almost dealt with us. Don't worry, everyone is safe and alive now. 

We are going to travel via the railway down to the coast, see if we can meet up with Rudy and Morten. I advise you to do the same. It's not as safe here as we thought. These cultists are dangerous and I assume in large numbers. 

We are carrying their jackets, so if you see a large man pulling a sled, don't shoot. We are five, three girls and the man (plus me of course) 

 

I'll pray to see you soon again friends, and I hope nothing bad happens to you. Please remember to keep a cool head, and to look out for eachother. 

 

                                                                                                                   Guy

 

P.S I have no idea what kind of surprise you are talking about. Weren't no spears here."

 

They are five? Then why were there only four of them traveling over the rail? 

A chill crept up his spine as he tensed up, expecting someone to attack him any moment now. 

 

But the old trapper was alone in the camp office. 

 

He needed a moment to calm down, but that moment was filled with dread as he read the text over and over. 

 

*" Some weird nature cult attacked me and the group I was leading here from a mountain town. We dealt with them, but then the bear almost dealt with us. Don't worry, everyone is safe and alive now."*

 

The cult had to be the Talkers. And he had a fair idea of who exactly it could have been. 

 

But where were the bodies?

 

The old trapper got his answer soon after he left the building. He didn't forget about the uneven imprints in the snow. And that's where he found them. 

 

A pile of corpses, their faces holding pained looks, their skin and clothes stained with frozen blood. He knew each one of them.

 

Ben, one of the Talkers quite adept at making explosives. He earned one of his bear carvings when he was the best fighter on the weekly training test. He was tasked to lead a group over here. To kill and torch. One of his eye sockets was gouged and swollen, and there was a bullet hole in his chest.

 

Ruth, a true powerhouse of a woman. She could arm-wrestle anyone with ease, and she was a good shot as well. Her hands were gripped around her throat, both coated in the dark layer of her own blood. Her face was that of fear and pain, two emotions she never showed...

 

Jonathan, a decent enough archer, still a bit green and rough around the edges, but willing to learn and to try out anything, never willing to back down out of a challenge. His throat looked like it was cut apart, the look of disbelief on his face unmoving and unchanging. 

 

Luca, the handsome Italian. A good cook, and a good archer, with a happy and optimistic personality, despite his history (Mafia family, blood feuds going as far back as the '30s and '40s, and someone called Anthony). 

 

And where was Luca, there was also...

 

Bethany. He hadn't recognized her at first, but the ginger-brown ponytail gave her away. Her face, once pretty and full of freckles, was split open, full of frozen blood and gore, unrecognizable. She and Luca were very close, always going on patrols together. And it seems, they went to the other side together as well. Though not peacefully. 

 

The last person was the only one with their jacket on, the thing torn to thin strips of cloth and leather, destroyed. Their insides were torn open, with pieces of intestines and organs hanging out. The face was bitten off, without any way to recognize them. This one was gotten by the bear.

 

All of them died a cruel and painful death. That much was obvious. 

Whoever these people were, they were dangerous. He felt an involuntary shiver pass through him again. 

 

Standing up, he bowed to the pile of corpses, the only form of respect he could think of without anything else at hand. 

With that, he hurried off, with a new goal on his mind. 

 

---

 

He watched them as they stopped in front of the dam. He was surprised to see it burned down. However, once he thought it over, he reckoned Ben and the others probably burned it on their way toward the camp office. 

 

The IRA man went to the entrance and then fell to his knees. White hair rushed over to him moments later. He assumed it was some sort of panic attack or at least something that looked a lot like it. 

 

Goggles and the younger girl stayed put, but then Goggles moved away. 

He observed him as he moved to pick up a spear not even he noticed buried in the snow. 

 

The spear. One of his spears. What was it doing here? 

 

In his questioning, he stood up a bit more, trying to catch a better look at his weapon in the hands of the enemy, when that enemy looked right at him. 

 

Now he held his breath, face glued to the snow below. 

 

*Keep calm*  he reminded himself, knowing that there was no way for Goggles to see him now. 

 

-*-/-I-/-*-

 

Asmodeus, curious as to what could be hiding in the tree line, opened up his antennae again. 

 

While the sadness coming from the hellhound could still be felt, it wasn't overbearing to his senses. Focusing on the area in front of him, he tapped to sense any kind of fear that something afraid of being found out would naturally exhume. 

 

At that moment, a coal-black raven burst from a bush sitting along the tree line, right where he thought he saw something. The demon watched the bird fly away, disappearing over a cliff.

 

Grumbling an insult directed at avians, he walked back to the sled with spear in hand, itching to get a move on as soon as possible. 

 

---

 

It had taken Guy some time to calm down and regain himself and his composure completely. The idea of losing his friends was deeply disturbing, and he found himself denying that they could be dead. 

 

They simply couldn't be dead. 

 

With a grim cloud overhead, they continued on, following the rail through a narrow path between the rocky cliffs, until they reached a small bridge. The thundering sound of rushing water meshed with the whizzing of the wind on their faces, making their skin numb and their eyes watery. 

 

As they walked around the bend, following the curving of the rail, they were met with the first problem of their travel. 

A rockslide had collapsed the nearby cliff right on top of the railway line, cutting off their only path forward. There was no way over the rocks, as it was too large and too smooth to climb. 

Guy stared at the impassable obstacle, sizing it up and down. With a shake of his head, he kicked one of the loose pebbles in frustration. 

"FUCK!" He shouted shortly yet loudly. 

The rock he kicked off stumbled down the ravine that stretched alongside the railway, connecting with the cliff, and then with a tree, causing a sharp enough noise to attract attention. 

Octavia looked to the ravine stretching to their side when she spotted something that could be a solution to their trouble. 

"Guy, what about that there!?" She shouted over the noise of the waterfall and the wind. 

Looking to where she pointed, Guy saw a massive tree trunk splayed across the ravine, lodged in place by rocks and snow. It looked like it could support their weight if they went one by one. 

It didn't look safe, but then again nothing ever did here. After a few moments, Guy signaled they turn back and head for the tree trunk. 


-

He tested it, pressing his foot down once, twice, seeing if it would budge. The trunk held firm, refusing to give even an inch. It was broad enough for the sled to pass through nicely, though it would still be a one-by-one passage. 

"Okay, is anyone afraid of heights?" Guy asked, turning to look at the others. No one said anything, but their faces still looked uneasy. Well, the girls did. Moxxie or Millie didn't say anything (They said Millie fell asleep inside the sleeping bag they kept on the sled.) 

"Okay, that's good, that's good. So...I think the sled should go first. If the tree can hold it, it can hold any one of us. Moxx, we'll tie ropes around you and the sled for safety, alright?"

Moxx only nodded, and the group went to work. The rope was tied around his waist and torso, and another around several points on the sled. Fastened around the nearby steady and solid rocks, they would be their only saving grace if the trunk were to give. 

Asmodeus gulped as he pushed the sled onto the makeshift wooden bridge. The fall down wouldn't be pleasant, or pretty. There were plenty of places where one could quite literally be disemboweled by sharp rocks.

Slowly, he pushed the sled forward, careful not to overdo it. Each step felt like it lasted an eternity. His grip on the sled was vice-tight. The other side seemed so far away...and he was there.

Surprised, he blinked a few times, looking around. 

"Detach the rope!" He heard shouting from behind. 

-

Octavia was up next. Trembling, she crawled on all fours across the bridge, afraid to look anywhere but the wood under her mittens. Steadily, she made her way across, the wind pushing her to the side occasionally. Despite it, she never stopped, although she wanted to. 
Once safely on the other side, she undid her rope as fast as she could, and scrambled away from the edge, mumbling how this was a really stupid idea.

"Loona, you're next." 

Tying the rope around her waist and chest, Guy tried his best to avoid the feminine areas, looking uncomfortable as he did. 

Loona stepped to the edge of the cliff, the tree right in front of her. As she was about to step onto the wood, a tremor passed through the ground.

On the other side, on top of the rockslide, one of the large boulders moved, pushed forth by the combined force of the wind and the tremor. Guy pulled Loona back as he shouted. 

"MOXXIE! OCTAVIA! GET OUT OF THERE!" 

The large boulder reached the edge of the rockslide formation, teetering. 

With one final gust of wind, it was pushed over the brink. 

As if in a movie, it started to fall so slowly, like in slow mode. But then just as quickly, it sped up, crashing at a surprising speed into the tree trunk. The sound of cracking wood filled the air as the tree and the boulder collapsed into the ravine, crashing against the sides on their way to the bottom. With a muffled sound, they hit the bottom. 

Just like that, the party was split in two.

Notes:

Mystery Lake is behind us. Is anyone going to come back?
What is happening with the others? Are they too splitting apart? By their own actions, or by pure chance? We'll see in the future...

I wish you guys all the best, and I hope that this longer chapter makes up for the last one. It took a bit to figure out what and how, but once it was done, it was easy to get on with it.

Just for reminder- Guy, Loona and Millie are stuck on one side, while Asmodeus, Octavia and Moxxie on the other.

I'll see you all in the future or in the Discord server called Hellaverse Central, which you can join via this link - https://discord.gg/hellaversecentral
As always, I want to thank you all for your support, and I also want to recommend you give these other fanfics a try if you haven't already- House of Asmodeus, Backstage, One Helluva Broken Day, and Owls Hell That Ends Well! Love you all, and wish you all the best :D

Chapter 26: Splitting apart

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-*-/-I-/-*-

-Mystery Lake- 4th Day- Late Morning 

 

The wind continued to flail the faces at both cliffs as they stared at each other. Disguised demons and the human all held their breath as the new situation settled into their minds. 

 

Separated, they stared at each other, the distance between the cliffs barely ten or so meters, but feeling like it was a hundred or more. 

 

Guy tried to toss the rope to the other side several times but to no avail. Even with something attached to the end, the wind proved to be too strong, pushing the rope just out of reach every time. Even if they did manage to throw it to the other side, there was nothing they could tie it around or wedge it into close enough to the cliff. It was futile. 

There was no way over. 

 

Racking his mind, the gears turning as fast as they could, Guy considered their options. Loona and he could probably hold their own, maybe even sneak by any trouble, but he doubted the trio had the same capabilities. The three of them were more vulnerable, especially with wounded Millie. They had to link up with Morten and Rudy as fast as possible while he and Loona look for another way.

 

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled at the top of his lungs. 

 

"GET TO THE COAST AND FOLLOW THE HIGHWAY! LOOK FOR QUINCY'S QUONSET! WE'LL LINK UP AS SOON AS WE CAN!"

 

The words carried over with difficulty, but they still reached their ears. A thumbs up was given by Octavia, after which they began to move away from the cliff. With one last look behind her, Octavia waved to Loona and Guy, a look of concern and sadness on her face. 

 

As the trio departed, Loona and Guy went to sit down for a bit against the rocks shielding them from the wind. 

 

"Any ideas?" Loona asked, careful not to squish Millie inside her backpack as she rested on the ground. 

 

"Uhmm...In a minute. I'll see what we can do."

 

Main goal was getting to the coast. It was plain simple to follow, but not as easy to execute. He didn't know of any other way towards it but the one that just fell down to the bottom of the ravine in front of them. 

 

Though, thinking about the ravine...

 

Moving to stand up, Guy crouched close to the edge of the cliff, holding onto a rock as he looked down. 

 

The two cliffs ran opposite eachother down for meters and meters, until they met at the bottom, covered by a frozen-over creek. The fallen tree trunk and the boulder sat there, close to each other, just another addition to the clutter that fell into the ravine over who knows how much time. 

Despite the mess, it looked passable enough, with the frozen creek snaking its way around and under the rocks and debris toward the coast. 

 

If they follow the basin of the ravine, they could reach the coast in no time! But to do that, they'd first need to get down there...

 

"Hey, see if you can find a good climbing position." Guy said, moving away from the place at the rocks. 

 

The next few minutes were spent moving alongside the cliff, checking to see if there were any good climbing spots to faster the rope they had with them. It was a bit of a shame that they will have to leave it behind, but it was a small price to pay to get back with the others. 

 

Finally, Loona saw one of the rocks protruding out of the snow that felt rather similar to those near Milton. Almost as if they were the same rocks. 

 

"Maybe this one?" 

 

 

-*-//-IV-//-*-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- 3rd Day- Late Morning-

 

While Rudy was still busy upstairs, Morten calmed down from his revelation of another demon among their ranks. What was it with demons and Great Bear? He knew why Stolas and Blitz were here, but this one...what was their story?

 

And were there any other out there? 

 

His mind wandered back to when he found the old notes, and to when they were shot at. They never really did anything about that. Instead, they got pissed drunk, and passed out. If someone were to come inside during the night, they could've easily slit their throats without any problem. A chill passed through his spine as he imagined Rudy lying limp on the floor in the pool of his own blood. 

 

Crouching down in front of the couch, he inspected the demon a bit closer. What he thought at first was white pain turned out to be white skin, akin to those blotches Blitz had on the side of his face. The hoodie looked human enough, a bit oversized, but someone probably found that cute. 

Curiously, he moved the blanket a bit, trying to inspect the limbs, the feeling of the weird heavy noodles still fresh in his mind. 

 

Jet black fingers came into view as he lifted the cover, part of a fist that looked too metallic to be normal. A prosthesis of some sort perhaps? 

The sight made Morten uncomfortable, like something he shouldn't be seeing. Quickly pulling the blanket back onto the sleeping demon, he moved away, stepping outside of the room. 

 

Rudy walked down the flight of stairs, each wooden stair creaking under his boots. 

 

"They're out cold." 

 

"But warm, right?" 

 

"'Course they're fucking warm, they got so many blankets wrapped around them they look like burritos." Rudy replied. A moment later, he frowned as he looked at Morten. "Ass." He said, rolling his eyes at Morten's grin. Blitz seemed to rub off on him. 

 

"It ain't no laughing matter. They're both in a bad way."

 

Morten's grin died down a bit, and he shook his head. 

"I know, I know. But still, they are safe now. We can't be just gloom and doom constantly." 

 

"They may be, but where's Guy?"

 

Morten felt the tingle of humor die inside him at the words. He completely forgot about Guy. He was with Ollie and Fred back at the camp office the last time they saw eachother, recovering from his wounds. 

 

But he didn't come here with them. Instead, the nameless demon accompanied his friends. 

The fact they weren't together didn't sit well with him, nor with Rudy. 

 

Exhaling with some trouble, Morten ran his fingers through his hair, tapping at the back of his head in thought. His hair was too greasy for his liking. Fuck, he wanted a shower. 

 

"Let's...let's not jump to anything yet. We should wait till those two are awake before we ask anything."

 

"And the third one?" 

 

"I doubt they'll be of any use. We'll probably need Blitz's help."

 

"What? Why would we need Blitz?"

 

"You want to see for yourself?"

 

Rudy stares at his friend with unease, biting the inside of his cheek in frustration. If Mort thought the imp demon was needed for help, it was probably better that he didn't know. 

 

"I'd rather not."

 

They looked at each other for a moment more. As Morten moved to say something, a faint flash from outside cut him off before he uttered a letter. 

 

"What the...?" He said, rushing to the closest window. The reddish flow still burned at the corners of his eyes. 

 

The look outside wasn't enough, and a moment later he was outside, walking off the porch and into the snow. Looking at the sky, it didn't take long to find the source of the flash. 

 

A bright red flare, falling high in the sky, its bright red glow a stark contrast to the white, gray, and black color palette of the valley. It somewhat resembled Stolas' crimson eyes, though there seemed to be something else to it. Whatever it was, it didn't feel...normal.

 

"A flare?! Who could it be?" Rudy asked as he stood beside him, eyes squinted. 

 

-

 

Stolas held a dreamy gaze on his face as he walked along Blitz towards the house, holding his hand in a tender grip. His imp seemed lost in thought, and the prince wanted to wait till they were inside before he sees what was troubling him. 

 

As they made their way from the barn, a familiar-feeling flash crackled somewhere behind them. Stolas stopped, turning in place to look at the source. 

 

A flare far far away, high in the sky, shining brightly like stars he and Octavia saw so many times on their little visits. The familiarity, however, was what made him shiver. 

 

He sensed magic in it. It felt like a call, and from someone rather powerful. 

 

His fingers trembled at the feeling, the first slip of magic he felt since he came here a week ago. And now, someone else was sending a magic-imbued flare to the sky, calling for someone, or something. One of the Goetias, or perhaps someone higher up the ladder? 

 

"What's going on?" Blitz said, tugging his hand, bringing him back from his thoughts. 

 

"Mmmhh...someone from Hell is sending a call out to someone, but I don't know who."

 

A few moments later, a gasp escaped Blitz. 

"Someone from Hell?! S-Stolas, what if for us!?" 

 

"Us? I doubt anyone would be calling for us Blitz."

 

"But, what if it's Loona or Octavia?!"

 

"Oh, come now Blitz, what would they be doing he-..."

 

*They'd be looking for you two. It's been a whole week that you've been gone*  Stolas' inner self said, eyes open wide. 

 

But, that couldn't be! They couldn't have possibly gone to the mortal world, or enchant a flare with a spell such as this one!

But if they used the grimoire...

 

*Fuck*

 

---

 

"I am not leaving them here alone Stolas!" 

 

"Then bring them with us! We need to get to..."

 

"Out of the question, they're too messed up for travel, and we don't even know where that flare was launched from. We'd be going blind, and that's a death sentence out here! Nobody is dying on my watch goddammit!"

 

Stolas sighed in frustration, running his hands over his face as he walked in a circle. 

 

Once they went inside, Stolas almost jumped onto Morten with the demand to get to the flare as soon as possible. But the human refused to go.

 

"For all I know, my daughter could be in danger, and I can't just sit here and do nothing about it!"

 

Morten didn't answer, a grim expression on his face as he sat behind the table in the study room.

Rudy was in the kitchen, making himself scarce the moment they entered the house with the demons. Plus he was hungry. Leaving him alone to deal with this, ugh.

 

"We could go alone?" Blitz said, to which Morten only shook his head. 

 

"If you do, I doubt we'll be seeing each other again. I don't know the region, nor do I have the maps to help you out with." He said, skipping over the fact Stolas wasn't ready in any way for the cold or the danger. Blitz, he might be a bit more scrappy, but the prince was a different story entirely. 

 

"They go with us, be our guide or whatever!" The imp said, throwing his hands in the air. 

 

Morten sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. They were talking in circles. 

 

"You could go, and I could stay?" Rudy said from the doorframe, attracted by the commotion, despite at first choosing to stay out of it. A cup of something hot steamed in his hands as he leaned onto the wooden wall. 

 

"Alone? With three people to take care of?"

 

"I mean, the prince could stay as well. You only really need Blitz and yourself. Plus, you'll be faster the less of you go." 

 

As if Rudy read his mind. Morten frowned, resting his chin on top of his hands. 

Blitz and he could probably make good time across the island. But the question still remained of where they should go. Morten wasn't quite sure from which way Rudy and he got into the valley. It could take days before he manages to find a way back to the mine that connected the valley with the coast. 

 

Still, it probably wouldn't hurt if they searched the surrounding area. There was bound to be more in this valley than just the barn and the farmstead. Despite the ample supplies in the farmstead, more wouldn't hurt. One thing they severely lacked was firearms, though there are still unchecked nooks and crannies of the house that could hold very good stuff. 

 

"Okay, okay..uhh, hear me out. As I said, we don't know where to go exactly..." He began, holding a hand up as Stolas began to form a response "...but what we CAN do is go out, get a lay of the land, look around for anything we can use. Food, weapons, ammunition, tool, we could always use more of each. There's a road close to that barn the horse is in, right? We can follow it, see if it leads to a town or some place.

Blitz, you think we could use the horse? It would sure be faster than walking. Or it could at least allow us to haul more stuff at once."

 

---

 

The trio talked for a while longer, while Rudy just observed from the doorframe, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. Morten managed to convince Stolas to be patient and to stay in the house with Rudy while he and Blitz go out. 

 

As the two demons left the room to find some warmer clothes for Blitz, Rudy looked behind them, before stepping into the room, a dark look on his face. 

 

With one last glance towards the doorway, he leaned forward, his voice hushed. 

 

"How do we know it's his daughter and not Guy?" 

 

Morten didn't answer, glancing at the doorframe for a long moment, before setting his eyes back on his friend. 

 

"He said something about there being magic in it and whatnot. Demon stuff, something Guy wouldn't go anywhere near of."

 

"You do realize that came from the way of the Mystery Lake?" Rudy asked, gulping down. 

 

Blinking, Morten raised his eyebrow in confusion. 

"It did? How are you so sure of that?" 

 

"It's not that hard to piece together. Sure it was a bit iffy to get my bearings after the mines, but the sun position and the mountains on the southeastern side of this valley made it easier."

 

"The mountains?" 

 

"They look the same as the mountains you can see from Mystery Lake when you are on the tracks and look towards the way of the dam."

 

Morten ground his teeth just as the gears in his mind ground against each other. There was a thought forming in his head that he wasn't all too keen on existing. 

 

"What exactly are you suggesting?" 

 

"Come on man, you know exactly what I'm suggesting," Rudy said in a hurried tone, placing down his cup on the table a bit harder than he intended.

"What if they hurt Guy somehow? What if he's..." Before he could say another word, Morten gripped him by the collar, pulling him close, their faces only inches apart. 

 

"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence."

 

"Fuck off, like it ain't a possibility"

 

"It fuckin' ain't."

 

"Then why the hell are Fred and Ollie here without him?" Rudy said back, moving from Morten's grip. "The way they look, must've been something fucked up that did them in. And what's more fucked up than..." He stopped for a moment, looking to the doorway again, before loudly whispering. 

"...than fucking hellspawn?"

 

"Ironic of you, considering you played cards with a Goetian prince last night and didn't make a fuss." Morten replied, standing up. Baseless accusations and speculations were nothing but trouble. 

"Keep those ideas to yourself. Until we know for sure, we don't assume shit like that." 

 

Rudy rolled his eyes at the answer. 

 

---

 

"Dammit, everything is a size too large." Blitz said, sitting at the edge of the bed. He and Stolas went upstairs to one of the bedrooms, opening up a closet to check if there is anything they could wear, as their normal attire started to chaff a bit. Not to mention that it wouldn't be enough for staying outside for longer periods. 

 

Stolas absently kneaded a sweatshirt in his hands as he looked out the frosted window, eyes set on the far mountains. His Starfire could be out there right now, scared or even worse, in danger. And he was here, playing dress up, instead of going to her rescue. 

 

A reasonable part of him agreed with Morten and his decision. He knew that it would be stupid to go out in his state, no magic powers or weapons of any sort. But the emotional part of him screamed. How long was Octavia here? Was she alone? Did Blitz's daughter come too? 

 

Wait a moment...Blitz's daughter...He only ever saw her once, when the prince busted I.M.P from those dork kooks. 

 

"Blitz?"

 

"Mmh?" The imp responded, face covered with a sweater.

 

"I don't think I ever asked...but how exactly did Loona become your daughter?" 

 

The question took Blitz by surprise, obvious by the sudden halt in motion, but the imp continued to move rather quickly, removing the sweater from his face. 

 

"I uh...I adopted her. Yeah, adopted her. Why?"

 

"Oh, well it just now crossed my mind how she's a hellhound and you're, well, an imp?" 

 

"Last time I checked, I was one. I mean, you were there to experience all the best parts." Blitz replied with a smug grin. 

 

Blushing at the innuendo, Stolas gave a fake cough, trying to control himself. 

 

"Why do you ask?" The imp said, rolling up the sleeves so they didn't go over his arms. 

 

"Oh, well, it just crossed my mind when I was thinking of Octavia, and you mentioned your daughter could be here."

 

"Well, if she is here, M&M's better be right there with them." 

*Or I'll drill a new hole into Moxxie when I see him next time*  Blitz thought, the image of his Loonie in danger making it hard to keep calm. He remembered how he felt when he lost sight of her that time at the beach, feeling his insides burn. They were lucky then. Now, Lucifer only knew what could happen to his baby if she was here. 

The biggest thing that ate at him was the fact they were here, risking themselves, because of him...

 

 

-/-I-/-

 

Loona was trying her best not to look down.

 

They tied the rope around the familiar-looking rocks, lowering the backpacks first just like the last time. But it was just their luck that the rope didn't reach all the way down, ending a few meters above the bottom of the ravine.

 

 

On the bright side, the backpacks served as a decent enough weight, preventing the rope from moving too much on its own, something the constant wind flowing through the ravine stubbornly tried to change. 

 

Guy went down the rope first, saying that he'll check if they can make it safely all the way down. It took him a while to descend, the wind constantly pushing him to the side, testing his balance and his grip. Twice, a stronger gust made him stop completely, having to put all his strength into staying on the rope. 

As he reached the end of the climb, she could see him looking down, trying to gauge the distance. A moment later, he let go, landing on all fours. It took him some time to get up and give her the signal. 

 

 

Now on the rope, she tried her best to move quickly but safely, as a single slip of the hand would result in her plummeting to a rather painful death. 

She tried to use the same footing Guy used just moments prior, evident by the scrapes of his boots on the rocks. Bits of loosened gravel broke free every so often, sending out that uneasy sound of moving rocks that made her tense up, the hair on her neck standing upright. Just a bit further down, and she'll be safe. 

 

Loona repeated that to herself for what seemed like an eternity, her vision and mind focused on the rope in her hands and the next patch of cliffside to set her boot onto. 

 

-

 

Guy watched from below as Loona made her way down, biting at his lip as his nerves were being tested. And he also tried not to make it seem like he was looking at her behind. 

 

 

His limbs still ached from the drop, his fingers having that weird mixed feeling of radio static and burning, while his legs felt like lukewarm jelly. He could really do with a sit down, but now wasn't the place nor the time. They had plenty of distance to cover, and the daylight was burning fast. 

 

"You're close now, easy." He said up to Loona, his body tensing up, preparing to jump to action if something were to go wrong. 

 

"Okay...okay...okay..." He heard her saying, steeling herself for the next step- Letting go. 

 

"You want me to catch you?" 

 

"What? No, I-I got this." She said, moving around on the rope, looking his way, and then to the ground. Visibly gulping, she exhaled. 

Letting go, she turned in the air to try and land on her feet and arms. Guy moved out of the way, right in time for her to land in the snow, stumbling from the impact, almost hitting a small snow mound with her face. 

Stepping next to her, he took her by the hand, helping her stand up. 

 

"You good?" He asked, patting her on the back. Loona nodded, massaging her fists and wrists. 

 

"Yeah...smarts some though."

 

"Alright...now for the hard part."

 

"What?" 

 

"We gotta get the backpacks from up there." He said, pointing back to their backpacks, still tied to the end of the rope a few meters in the air. 

 

Letting out a groan, Loona pinched the bridge of her nose. 

 

"Okay, how do we do that?" 

 

"I could uh...boost you up, you stand on my shoulders and untie the knots. Unless of course, you'd like to volunteer to be a bottom." 

 

Loona stopped what she was doing to give Guy a quizzical look, staring at him in silence for a moment, before rolling her eyes and walking off towards the backpacks. 

 

"If that was a joke, it fuckin' sucked." She said, causing Guy to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

 

"A jok-ohhh, oh..." He said, realizing mid-response. 

 

"Oh yeah indeed. Now get your ass here,  bottom ." She responded, putting a comedic emphasis on the last word. 

 

"Poor choice of words indeed." Guy muttered to himself as he walked to join her under the backpacks. 

 

Leaning onto the side of the cliff, he lowered himself a bit so his knees were bent, grounding himself in a half-sit position. Loona used his knees as a step up to his shoulders, moving carefully not to lose balance. Once up there, he grabbed her right under the knees for stability, while she tended to the backpacks.

 

Tossing Guy's backpack to the ground, along with the rifle and the axe, she left her own for last, paying special attention as Millie was in there. Taking it in one arm while holding to the rope with the other, she lowered it down as far as she could. 

 

"Hey, just lower it easy will you?" 

 

Guy chuckled at the request, moving one of his arms to grab the pack. 

 

"Don't wanna damage any fine china huh?"

 

"Yeah, something like that." 

 

"Uh-huh."

Despite the chuckle, he still lowered it to the ground as slowly and gently as his position allowed, the pack softly sinking a centimeter or two into the snow. 

 

"Right, now if you don't mind, these shoulders have been through a lot."

 

---

 

They left the rope behind them. Not like they had any choice. At least it would be waiting for them if they needed to get back. Guy hoped it would.

Moving on, they made their way through the ravine, around and over fallen logs and rocks. They soon moved away from the cliffs, still walking on the ice that creaked with each new step, into a more open area. To their left, the path was blocked by several fallen trees all on top of each other. They could probably make their way through with some effort, but the path to their right was wide open.

 

 

"We would be crossing that bridge now if it wasn't for the boulder." Guy said, pointing at the metal construction spanning the distance between two cliffs. It felt unnatural to look at, without any structure above it, only the small support system under it, no pillars or anything like it. It seemed almost as if the bridge was suspended in the air by magic.

 

As they continued, the area around them opened up a bit more, with pine trees sitting on steep slopes flanking the frozen creek, their snow-filled branches swaying in the wind, occasionally hard enough for some of the snow to fall off with a quiet thud.

The creek continued until it reached another set of cliffs that stood on both sides, carving a path between them. 

Without any choice, Guy and Loona followed that path forward, the inventory of their backpacks occasionally clinking along with the sound of their boots, and strained breaths that left trails of thin steam clouds behind the pair. The size of the passage shifted as they went further in, narrowing and widening depending on how worn out certain parts were by the grinding, always flowing water.  

 

After having to squeeze through one particularly narrow part, they reached a wide opening on the other side of the narrow passage. Some distance in front of them was a small clearing, and a sight of many tree tops far away. The wind changed direction, and a breeze passed over them, and deeper into the passage behind them. Loona could feel it bring a distinct smell with it, filling her nostrils. The smell of the sea. 

 

"Smell that? Guess we are closer to the shore than I thought." Guy said next to her, testing a fallen log with his boot to see if it was safe to cross. 
"Come, we'll rest for a bit down there."

 

-

 

esting against the rocks shielding them from the wind, Guy put his backpack to the side. Sitting down, he let his back rest against the rock as he tugged and fixed at his gloves and sleeves. Loona sat down beside him, placing her backpack against the rocks, letting out a sigh of relief. 

 

They sat in silence, looking at the small waterfall they passed moments ago, with the wind brushing through low bushes and thin spots of yellowed grass somehow not completely covered by snow, white mists of which would occasionally drift from those high cliffs, disappearing with the wind. 

 

It wasn't anything like the Imp City, with the blaring of the car horns, curses, and guns going off every hour of the day and night. No occasional explosions in the distance, or the blood-red sky with the massive pentagram spreading across it. It all felt so far away, despite her being here barely two days...

 

Tranquil. Despite the worry gnawing at the back of her head, Loona found herself being rather calm. It was nice, being out here. Sure, she could use a smoke, and she'd kill for her phone to work, but it was still nice regardless. 

 

She heard Guy sigh next to her. 

 

"What a paradise this would be...It's even better in the summer y'know? When it's all lush and green, and when the birds come about..." 

 

Loona looked to the trees swaying in the wind, imagining them devoid of snow, with birds chirping from the branches and bushes, and the air cooling the summer heat off her face. 

 

"Mmh...maybe we'll get to see it if spring ever comes." Guy said, a note of concern in his voice. 

 

"If?" 

 

"Things are weird around here, you saw it yourself. That solar flare...who knows what else it caused. The animals and the electricity are already affected. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to say weather could be too."

 

"Damn, pessimistic much?" She answered, causing him to roll his eyes and chuckle. 

 

"Yeah,  uber  depressed about a potential end of the world, heh."

 

Loona chuckled back, rubbing her fingers together. If he was really worried, he didn't let it show. 

She knew Hell was just the same as when they left the place. It would take more than some solar flare to make that dumpster fire go out. 

 

"I'm...sure it'll be okay."

 

"Mmh..." 

 

They continued sitting in silence for a bit longer, thinking. Or at least, Loona was thinking. She couldn't read thoughts and see if Guy was too. There was a question scratching her mind a bit. 

 

"Hey Guy?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"How come you went looking for other people by yourself? And like...why would you go looking for other people at all?"

 

Guy took a moment to respond, cracking his knuckles and massaging his wrists as he did. 

 

"Well...it's a logical thing to do when there's something like this going on. Find other people, contact some form of authority, find a safe place to be."

 

"You think they'd let this go on for so long if there was any left here?" 

 

"Touche...And I guess there'd be no crazy cultists either."

 

"Mmh, not really mutually exclusive, that." 

 

At that, Guy raised a brow.

 

"Huh, I guess not. Movies aren't always too far-fetched with that stuff, heh."

 

"Plus what you saw in Rome, right?" 

 

At that, Guy paused, his expression hardening. A sore spot, that night.

 

"Mmh..." 

 

The silence felt strained, the rumbling of the waterfall now seemingly far too quiet. Biting the inside of her cheek, inwardly scolding herself for that slip, Loona moved to stand up, brushing off specks of snow caught on the ends of the jacket flaps. 

 

"Let's uh... let's go. We've still got ways to go, right?" She said, offering a hand to Guy. 

 

Looking at her from the boots up to her eyes, Guy nodded, taking her hand and moving to stand up. 

 

"Yeah, let's...Don't forget the backpack."

 

-

 

If he still held any bad will from the talk, he didn't show it. They moved from their place at the rocks, turning around the natural corner to reveal a light forest just in front of them, and at the other side of it, right between the trees, they saw a fire watch tower in the distance, its rust-red construction making it stick out like a sore thumb. 




Glancing at the trees that would flank them from both sides, Guy drew his rifle. 

 

"Eyes up, this is a prime place for an ambush." He said, pulling the bolt back partway to check on the ammo. A full magazine of shiny bullets stared back at him, ready to be fired at anyone and anything. Pushing it back in place, he looked to Loona, the girl already squeezing the grip of the revolver in hand.

 

"Easy now, stay sharp." 

 

They moved forward with caution, weapons at the ready, barrels following their gaze at all times. Each step was deliberate and slow, the moments between the boots crunching against the snow full of anticipation of some small noise that would give away a threat. 

Loona kept her eyes and ears open, but the main tool in use was her nose. Despite the smell of the sea in the air, she could still discern others close by, taking them in with each new breath. The pine needles, the wet wood...

The smell of fur, saliva, and dried blood. Their smell hit her before she even saw them. 

 

"Wait." Loona said, making Guy immediately stop, still looking forward, his head barely moving left and right as he scanned the area. 

At the words, they revealed their position, a pack of timberwolves coming forth from behind a small hill. 

 

The beasts were covered in great fur coats, the colors of which shifted from light gray to dirty white, their paws covered in bits of snow. Their maws were stained with dried blood, their fangs yellowed and barred. However, the eyes were the most interesting part- amber-yellow, seemingly glazed over as the wolves stared their way. 

Barks and growls filled the air as the animals stopped some distance from the pair, claws digging into the snow. 

 

 

Guy kept his rifle trained on them, yet didn't fire, nor move to aim down the sights. A strained look was on his face as his eyes flicked from wolf to wolf. 

 

"Strange...hmm...Loona, keep walking, slowly." 

 

With his rifle still pointed their way, Guy started to move again, careful not to step closer to the pack, but to keep on his way toward the tower, which now seemed so far away. Glancing at Loona, he saw her standing still, a weird look on her face. 

 

"Hey, come on, we gotta go." He said again, tugging at her elbow, his nerves straining under the pressure of the situation. They had to get a move on, quickly. 

Loona shook her head, brought back from a stupor. She looked to Guy, to the gun in her hand, and to the wolves still barking, barring their teeth with unnatural ferocity. 

 

"Loona, dammit, we need to go." Guy repeated, this time through gritted teeth, the bubble of fear rising in his chest. 

 followed behind him, eyes still glued to the wolves, firmly holding the revolver. 

 

"What's...what's going on?" She asked in a hushed tone, barely audible over the noisy barks. 

 

"I don't know, but I think they ain't willing to attack. They tend to go for lone targets. With the two of us, it's not as easy. Don't shoot, save your ammo, but keep your eyes on them." 

 

She nodded, backing away behind him, still pointing the revolver at the wolves that haven't left their place at the base of the small hill. Their barks and growls lessened as the distance increased, and as Guy stepped onto the first steps of the fire watch tower, the wolves moved away completely, disappearing as quickly as they appeared. 

 

"It's weird, that's the first time I saw them do that. Usually, they'd either all pounce together if caught off guard, or they'd circle around you, trying to get you from behind. Guess we got off lucky." Guy said, slinging the rifle back onto his shoulder, looking over the path they just walked. 

Loona gulped, trying to calm down, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Standing at the bottom of the staircase, she kept staring at the spot where they came from. She couldn't get the pictures of the wolves out of her head, looking so similar to those kids in the orphanage...

 

"You alright?" She winced at the hand on her shoulder, causing Guy to pull back. 

"Sorry, sorry...you just...seemed out of it back there. Bad memories from that first time they tore your clothes?" He asked, leaning onto the railing. 

 

She blinked at the words, having to think about what he said. First time? Fuck, it was getting hard to keep track of all the lies and half-truths they told him. 

"I...uh, yeah. Yeah, just bad memories." She said, putting her revolver back in place. 

Guy nodded, crossing his fingers together. 

"Don't worry, they ain't gonna hurt you anymore. You and I both will make sure of that." 

-

Her freezing like that could've been fatal for both of them. It was a miracle the wolves didn't do anything. A weird and unexpected miracle, but Guy wasn't about to complain. 

He walked up the stairs, his boots clinking against the metal surface, the wind steadily increasing in strength the higher he went until he reached the top. There, he could see through the messy glass the interior of the tower was packed, and a spark of hope and relief rose in his chest. 

Before he entered, however, he turned his attention to the majestic sigh laid before him, like on the palm of his hand. 

 

The tower stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a small valley below, and an inlet that seemed to go beyond sight to his right. The coast was right there too, the beaches covered in cracked sheets of ice that followed the shape of the meandering coast. Between the trees, he could barely make out a small wooden pier, but what took his attention most was the large bridge leading to a group of large, red buildings. 

He could see a thin trail of smoke rising in the air from the location, barely visible against the white background. 

More people. So close, yet so far. But, were they friend, or foe?

Notes:

Hey folks, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry that it came so late, but I had to deal with some personal stuff that really dragged me ragged mentally. But, I'm better now, and I'll keep up the work. I want to tell this story to its end (Which I know how is going to go, but to get there we still have ways to go XD).

I know this chapter was a bit Guy-Loona centric, but don't worry, others will get their time in the spotlight soon enough. (After all, there ain't a limit on how many chapters there are in this fic.)
I...understand that this story might not seem as structured, or as "tight" in terms of chapters and their length when compared to works of other authors. I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses. Writing stories ain't a competition (At least not for me), and everyone writes their own way. Still, I'm sorry if things don't click for you with this story.

With that said, I'd like to recommend several other stories on Ao3- "House of Asmodeus" and "Backstage" by Bramblerose64, "Owl's Hell That Ends Well" by Impudent_Piece_Of_Crockery, "One Helluva Broken Day" by TheSilentAssassin, and "When We Meet Again" by rainbowpandas and RockyRants. ( I know they are all much more popular but I like them a lot so I still want to recommend them :D)

Have a great day and the rest of the week, and remember to always look on the bright side of life. <3
---
Update on a later date- The first ever piece of fanart has been added to this chapter, courtesy of ScaryDrPepper and the artist by the name of Paket/Patecko! You can find the piece here too https://twitter.com/patecko1/status/1679958957576851463?s=46&t=oRR_iL9_0kR71wlFsu4QJg

Thank you both for this immense gift to the story <3

Chapter 27: Splitting apart, but voluntarily

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-*-//-IV-//-*-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- 3rd Day- Around noon-

 

*What if Octavia is also here?*

 

The thought nagged Stolas much like his ex-wife, though with much less shouting and imp throwing coming his way. This came from within, and it was an uncomfortable thing to think about. 

 

Octavia, his little Starfire, here looking him...Was she alone? He hoped not, wanting to believe she went along with Blitz's employees and his daughter. 

 

*If any of them are even here...it could be someone else entirely!*

 

Right, it would be better for his mind to stick with that. Octavia is safely back at the manor...While he's here, with no clear idea how to get home. But, if there is someone else on the island also from Hell, it could mean that a portal could still be open. There is a possibility for Blitz and him to return and escape this dead frozen place. 

 

But what would be of the mortals? Rudy and Morten, and their friends? Would they be better off without them? 

Probably, considering how useless you are...

 

He kept wondering as he tugged at the sleeves of his new sweater, a rare find that fit him well enough, though plenty was still left hanging from him like a sail with no wind in it. He was used to a loose piece of clothing on him, mostly his bathrobe, but the sweater was nothing like it. Where the bathrobe was made of finest silk, the sweater was simple, rugged wool, rather scratchy and irritating. 

 

 Luckily, Blitz found a belt and decently large jeans to use them on, into which Stolas tucked the ends of the sweater into. He felt weird and mismatched in these new, human clothes, mostly because they were made for someone with a much wider well...everything. From arms to torso to hips, to even the legs. It was like he put on a piece of clothing several times his size, but also smaller at the same time. The sweater sleeves didn't quite reach his wrists, nor did the jeans quite reach his ankles, just like the thermal underwear.

 The pair of hiking boots they found collecting dust in one of the lower drawers were uncomfortable for his claws, and he had to put on two pairs of socks to fill out the extra room inside. Still, better to suffer some discomfort than cold or frostbite, a point Morten emphasized quite insistently. 

 

Blitz fared somewhat better. Sweatpants he shuffled the ends of down into his boots, while for his torso he settled for a cotton shirt, over which he put his old jacket. For his head, he wrapped a long wool scarf around the bases of his horns, covering the back part of his head, while also leaving a piece of the scarf for mouth covering. 

 

Stolas left his old clothes at the bottom of the closet, wondering if he'll come back someday to get them back or simply order new ones. 

 

---

 

They couldn't be here. No. Not his Loona or the M&M's. 

It was easier to think and keep going without having to worry about them. Because why would he worry? They were back in Pride, without any problems. Probably took care of a few contracts by now already, right? 

 

Right?

 

*Mammons fucking ass...*

 

With the light creaking of the wooden stairs under his boots, Blitz made his way down, just in time to see Morten prepping the last of his gear, the two large backpacks leaning against the wall close by, with the jacket and gloves on the counter next to it. Blitz would be carrying Rudy's backpack since the man wouldn't need it as long as he was in the house. 

 

"Blitz, a moment?" He said quietly, nodding to the living room. 

 

Raising a brow, Blitz followed him, stopping just at the doorless entrance along with the human. 

 

"Hm?" 

 

"When Oli and Fred came in, a third person came with them. You saw them right? Collapsed in the corner next to the stove?" Morten asked in a hushed voice, glancing from Blitz to the living room. 

 

"Very briefly, why?" 

 

Morten moved his jaw with his mouth closed. Something was on his mind. 

Nodding to the living room, he clicked his tongue. 

 

"Can you go in there and see who it is?" 

 

The question didn't sit well with him. At all. Why would he need to see who it is? 

 

"Uhh, why?" He asked, crossing his arms while he eyed Morten suspiciously. 

 

Again with the jaw moving...

 

"Maybe you know them?" 

 

Them? Only one 'them'? He couldn't recall knowing anyone like that...but wait, why would he ask him that? 

 

But who could it be? The curiosity did tug at him. He wanted to see what the fuss was all about, but at the same time, his gut was going with the exact opposite idea. Something wasn't right here. 

 

"Mort I don't know any humans besides you two; how in the name of Lucifers asscrack could I know whoever is in there?" 

 

At that, Morten chuckled, but it didn't sound like he was making fun of him. He better not. 

 

"Didn't say they were human, now did I? Look, just bite the bullet and get in there." 

 

Not human? But then that would mean... 

 

Peeking inside the room, he was greeted with a look at the old couch, on which he could see someone shifting under a blanket. As he peeked, it was as if a weird whirring sound filled his ears. What was that about? 

 

"Come on, I just wanna know if you know them or not." Morten said, pushing both of them into the room, the floorboards creaking as they shuffled in. 

 

Before Blitz could object with a saucy swear, a metallic limb came into his view, causing his eyes to open wide. A far too familiar-looking limb...

The feeling in his gut turned into a ball of lead, his feet heavy, but Morten kept pushing him until they were right behind the couch. This man...this stupid fucking man...

 

Standing behind the couch, his eyes instinctively moved, following the limb, until he saw to who it was connected. 

The feeling in his gut burst into a painful fire.

 

---

 

Morten stood beside the imp, eyes glancing from him to the sleeping thing, its noodle-like arms slightly moving in its sleep. 

 

He already knew he made a mistake pushing this. His choice of words could have been better too. But he didn't want to waste any more time. They needed to head out, and he needed to make sure whoever this was wasn't a danger. Those limbs didn't exactly give a feeling of safety. 

 

He heard the grinding of teeth, and before he could act, Blitz pushed him aside, sticking his hand into his stomach, making him wince. Mort quickly followed as the imp moved to exit the room, grabbing him by the wrist.

 

 "Blitz..." 

 

The imp pulled his arm out, glancing at the taller man. Morten could see in his eyes that he was furious and that it could soon come to blows. 

 

"I just need to know if they are a danger." He said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

 

Blitz didn't say anything at first, still glaring at him, his brow furrowed, his teeth barred. Yet, despite the anger practically bursting out of him, Morten could make out something else underneath that. 

 

"You know them?" 

 

"Know him? He was practically my br.." Blitz answered but cut himself off before he said anything more, but Morten heard enough. He knew 'him'. And it didn't look like it was all fun and roses, at least not anymore. 

 

"Is he going to be a danger?" Morten asked, taking one last glance at the sleeping figure, sure that he already knew the answer. 

 

The imp kept his angry face, breathing heavily, clutching his fists while his eyes slipped from Morten to the sofa. 

 

"No, fuck no, just...forget it, forget him, fuck this shit, let's get the fuck out of here, now." 

 

Just like that, the conversation was over, though Morten still felt like the tension hung in the air. Blitz walked over to the two backpacks leaning against the wall, took his, and dragged it out the door, closing it with a loud bang behind him. 

 

The man was thoroughly confused as to what has gotten into the imp. However, he knew prying into it wouldn't be wise. Not like most of his decisions today were, at least those regarding the imp and the prince. 

 

"What was that shouting?" Rudy asked, coming from the kitchen, and moments later Stolas joined them too, coming down the stairs. 

 

"Just uh...forget about it. Come, we're heading out."

 

---

 

At the porch, Morten and Rudy embraced like good friends, patting each other on the shoulders, wishing good luck to each other. 

 

Stolas wrapped his hands around Blitz, wishing him a safe trip, to which the imp only frowned, refusing to meet the owl's gaze. Stolas whispered something to him, to which he nodded, grasping the prince's hand with his own. 

 

The two waved them goodbye from the porch until the cold forced them back in. Stolas kept his eyes on them for some time through the windows, until they were only small blotches too far away to distinguish against the backdrop. 

 

First, they walked to the barn, intent on getting the old mare out and into the open, if there was even a point to it. Morten needed to take a look at her himself to decide if she would be helpful or not. 

The horse was in decent enough condition, though her walk was a bit shaky at first when they let her out, Blitz guiding her by the reins out of the building. She neighed as the cold wind whipped across her body, though she didn't resist, or tried to go back inside. Blitz petted her, brushing her mane while she adjusted to the cold, moving the snow with her hoofs in search of something to nibble on. 

 

Meanwhile, Morten looked over the mess of equipment and random items strewn about inside, checking to see if there was anything that might be handy. Among the pieces of timber, oily rags, greasy motor chains, and other pieces of scrap and junk, a cross-peen hammer caught his attention. Pulling it out by the handle, which caused the items around it to clatter, he inspected the blunt tool. The wooden handle was solid and without cracks, while the head appeared rust-free, and with little wear on the edges. 

Nodding, he quickly pocketed it, feeling a tad bit safer with another weapon close to hand. 

 

Most of the riding equipment was rather worn out, what from time, what from poor maintenance. Morten, not trusting the buckles or the leather straps of the saddle, and without knowledge of how to attach it in the first place, decided it would just be safer to walk alongside the horse while it carries their packs. At least those could be fastened quite easily with some rope. 

 

With their gear safely on the back of the mare, the imp and the man started their trek, heading down the snow-covered road, going the opposite way from the one Blitz and Stolas came from. According to the imp, there was 'nothing that way but a shitty, busted up trailer' that apparently reminded him of something from his childhood. Morten decided not to pry, not wanting to have another argument. 

 

As soon as they went on their way, they came across a wide truss bridge, close to which a small green car was parked partially on the road, its hood and roof covered in a thick layer of snow. It must've been here since the first Aurora hit. 

Checking inside, Morten found nothing, not even a forgotten note in the visors. The glove compartment was also cleared out, and the trunk appeared to be busted open. Whatever valuables were in there were now long gone. 

 

Still, better an empty car than trouble, right?

 

Passing over the truss bridge, Blitz pointed to a shed close to the road, hidden behind a small slope. Three crows circled high around it, occasionally letting out their loud, raspy calls to no one in particular. 

 

 

Walking between the trees to reach it, Morten kept the revolver at the ready, expecting a wolf to come at them at any moment. However, the only movement nearby came from a lone doe, her gait similar to the gentle swaying of the tree tops under the constant wind.

 

Inside the dilapidated shed, the pair came upon a frozen body, in its lap an equally frozen flare. The poor man had his hands gripped around the cap, probably trying to activate it for some warmth in his last moments. 

 

*Well, since he won't need it anymore...*  Morten thought as he took the red cylinder, wiping the frost from it. 

 

Other than the flare in his lap, there was nothing else of value on the corpse. There were, however, a few pieces of wood close by, which were quickly taken and formed into a bundle along with a few loose sticks. More fuel for the fire was always helpful.

 

Moving off, they continued, following the road past the entrance leading to the barn Morten and Rudy had taken shelter in the first night they spent in the valley. They decided to skip it for now, since the location was already visited. They could swing by it on the way back if need be.

The clicking of hooves against patches of exposed road sounded at times between the sound of their boots as they walked, the movement keeping them warm against the cold surrounding them. Mort felt his lower joints warming up, though the same couldn't be said for his upper body.

 

Some distance after the entrance, they came across another bridge, similar to how there was a bridge close to the entrance leading to the farmstead. This one was a plain bridge without any support beams above them, giving a much clearer look at the surrounding area. 

 

 

Taking a quick stop at the middle of the bridge, Morten took a swig from his canteen as he looked around, admiring the faraway mountains that surrounded the valley. As his eyes wandered from the mountaintops down to the gently rolling hills stretching before them, Morten had to double-check a patch of land. 

 

Rubbing his eyes, he looked again with squinted eyes, but what he thought he saw the first time wasn't there anymore. 

 

"Whatcha looking at?" Blitz asked him, no longer distractedly petting the mare. 

 

Blinking rapidly, Morten shook his head, wiping his hands on his jacket without thought. 

 

"Nothing, nothing...thought I saw something...nothing." He said, the blurry image of something...ghostly white, floating in his head.

 

"Uh huh...well, if you're done looking at nothing, you think we might head out to those houses over there?" 

 

"What? What houses?" 

 

"Those ones over there, behind the trees, see?" Blitz said, pointing at some place down the road. 

 

 

---

 

The town was quiet. Well, as quiet as it can be with the constant winds and the creaking of the trees. There was no smoke coming out of any of the chimneys, nor was there any movement either outside, or behind the dark windows. It felt similar to the coastal town, however with the events and findings they encountered in this valley, Morten felt much more on edge, squeezing the grip of his revolver.

Stopping at the crossroads, Morten looked to both sides. On their right, a small shop stood before another truss bridge leading to the other part of the town. The worn-out letters spelled "Thomson's Market". A few cars were parked around it, deep in snow, similar to the one they saw close to the first bridge.

 

On their left, a bit in the distance, a small church stood at the end of the street, with the house that came before it looking like it was burnt to the ground. A small monument of what looked like a pickaxe embedded into a piece of stone stood in front of an open-air market. A sign close to the fenced entrance spelled out "Farm Fresh Produce", though even from here, Morten could see there was nothing on the worn-out stands. 

 

The closest building to them, and what Morten assumed was the central building of the town, was the community hall, evident by the board standing in front of it.

 

"We'll settle inside there." Morten pointed to the building before a coughing fit caught him. Pressing his elbow against his mouth, he walked forward as the coughing continued. 

"Ay yay ay, it'd suck if I got sick now..." He said, drawing small breaths as the fit settled down. Grabbing the door handle, he opened them with a click.

 

---

 

Inside of the hall appeared to be brightly lit, mostly thanks to the roof windows that somehow weren't completely covered by snow. 

 

As they walked in, leading the mare behind them, Morten felt like something was off...

 

Compared to the streets of the town, this place was a bit too clean and a bit too full of stuff...the carpets and the bedrolls for example.

 

And that fireplace...It looked like it was snuffed out recently. Too recently.

 

As Morten crouched in front of it to inspect it a bit closer, a metallic click broke the uneasy silence. 


They weren't alone. 

 

Notes:

Time to reveal who's behind the camouflaged suit?

Apologies for the late update, some parts of the chapter needed info to make sure they were correct.
I wish you all the best, and of course to keep being that awesome you!

Chapter 28: A fight

Notes:

I highly recommend listening the linked music while reading this chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-III-/-

 

The metallic click was followed by dead silence. Morten froze in place, still crouched in front of the extinguished fireplace. Even from here, he could feel the faint warmth still emanating from the pile of ash and charred logs.  

 

"Heh, surprised to see you here  Blitzy."   A gravelly, ominous voice said from somewhere above them, mockingly emphasizing the last word, followed by what sounded like a faint rattlesnake shake. Morten drew a small breath through clenched teeth.

"Thought you were still sucking off that pompous Blueblood back at the farmhouse." 

 

Blitz was silent to the words. Morten couldn't see where the imp was, or what was he doing, but a gut feeling told him moving now would be a bad idea.

 

"Ah ah ah, I wouldn't move if I were you." The voice said again as if it could read his thoughts. The creaking of the floorboards somewhere behind Mort ceased, the sound of leather boots stretching and shuffling stopping soon after. The mare clicked her hoof, giving a quiet neigh. 

 

"Whaddaya want Striker?" He heard Blitz say, sounding annoyed more than scared. Mort didn't dare to even blink, his instincts telling him to keep his eyes open, despite the growing irritation. His grip on the revolver tightened as sweat beads began to stain his hand.

 

A thud of someone landing sounded close to the doors they came through. 

 

In a split second, Morten decided to go all in.

 

Still in his crouched position, he swung to the side, firing off a shot under his left arm without even looking, his head moving slowly compared to his hand. 

 

A crack of lightning boomed through the room as the revolver rattled his hand, the flash blinding him for a moment, his ears ringing.

 

As his head turned to finally look at that "Striker", Blitz was already in motion, charging horns first into a figure similar to him in height, dressed in thick snow camouflage, only its face showing. A sharp, lizard-like face, its color almost passable for normal, sporting a set of dagger-like teeth, with one of the prominent ones giving off a soft golden color. The small mustache almost made him resemble some sort of mustache-twirling cartoon villain, if it wasn't for the sickly yellow eyes, radiating hate and malice just like the sun radiated the warmth during the summer. 

 

The mare jumped to her hind legs, neighing in fear, as Blitz rammed into Striker, knocking a bolt action rifle out of his hands as his back hit the wall. Blitz followed immediately with a right hook. Before the gun even hit the ground, Striker blocked the blow, moving his knee to push Blitz back with an audible grunt from both of them. 

 

Moving onto his feet, Morten raised the revolver, aiming for the body as Blitz got back up close by. Before he could do anything, Striker was already moving, his tail grasping a nearby stool, tossing it at him. 

 

Without any time to move, Morten raised his hands, blocking the stool before it hit him square in the face, making him stumble before it fell to the floor with a clatter. 

 

Blitz and Striker charged at each other as Morten got his bearings again. 

Before they connected, Striker dodged in the last second, moving to push the imp into a wall. Blitz managed to turn his torso to the side in time, grabbing one of the hands with his own, and pulling back, his momentum pulling Striker with him, while his free hand swung wide and into Striker's face, square in the jaw, eliciting an angry hiss from the other demon. 

 

The two hit the wall, Blitz with his back, and Striker with his front. It did little to slow them down, as both were at each other's throats already, holding each other's hands, their tails fighting like two angry snakes as they rolled on the ground. 

 

Morten struggled to get a beat as the two rolled across the floor, and the mare didn't help either, now neighing and moving around in a panicked state, forcing him to move as well or get crushed. She nearly stomped on top of the fighting duo as they rolled right up to the base of a small stage, their bodies hitting the wooden planks, stopping their momentum, leaving Striker on top. One of his hands held down Blitz's hand by the wrist, while his boot managed to pin down the imp's tail. His tail, now free to do as he wanted, moved to pull a blade stashed at his belt. Blitz struggled to free himself from his tight spot, as a blade was moved to his neck. 

 

"No vermin to save you now." 

 

Just as Striker uttered the last words, a blunt object hit his side, causing him to wince and loosen his grip. 

Morten had thrown the hammer across the room, having no other way to help Blitz in his struggle. The mare passed by him again, pushing him close to the wall. 

 

The moment of respite was all that the imp needed. Freeing his hand, he struck the other imp in the side, just under the ribs. A grunt escaped Striker, gritting his teeth as his hand moved to strangle Blitz instead. 

Before his fingers could wrap around Blitz's neck, the imp lashed out, biting down on the digits, the sharp teeth piercing the flesh, letting out dark, ink-black blood. 

 

A pained scream escaped Striker as his fingers bled, Blitz refusing to let go, trying to move his hand left and right.  He was seconds away from tearing apart the fingers for good. 

Striker had no choice but to let go of the other hand, jumping onto it with his knee first, causing Blitz to ease up just a bit, but his mouth was still closed like a steel trap. 

 

Striker moved his free hand to Blitz's face as the other imp kept pounding haphazardly into his side. A punch wouldn't help his fingers, so he had only one option left. 

 

He went for the eyes. 

 

Without any time to spare, he pushed his thumb forward onto Blitz's eye socket, putting painful pressure on the vulnerable organ. 

 

Blitz stopped with the hits to the side, instead grasping Striker by the arm, trying to push it away as hard as he could, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. The pressure increased, and he could barely scream, his mouth full of fingers and blood. Striker gave a strained chuckle, despite his own bleeding fingers. 

 He felt the eye being pushed deeper into its socket, tears blurring his vision as he put every fiber of his being into pushing the hitman off of him. He couldn't lose his eye, not even if it meant that the bastard lost his fingers.

 

Morten was pinned against the wall, the mare completely out of it with the stench of blood in the air. He didn't dare to risk running across the hall to break up the two imps, who appeared so close yet so far.  

His jaw clenched as his eyes tracked the moving of hands, and he saw that the bastard was about to blind Blitz. But he couldn't shoot, the two being so close together, he wasn't calm enough...

 

The mare, in her blind panic, smashed her foot through one of the small wooden crates, and the thing stuck to her. The horse, thinking its the jaw of some fierce animal, finally managed to find an exit, in the form of the front door. With a smash she busted through the double doors, leaving them wide open, the wind wasting no time in wooshing in, the loose snowflakes drifting inside alongside it. 

 

Without a second thought, Morten rushed forth, sprinting towards the two imps as both of them let out pained screams mixing into a feral-sounding shriek. Without time to slow down, Morten decked Striker with his shoulder, smashing him against the stage. He swung his revolver, delivering a solid kick to the horned head with the grip, pulling him away from Blitz with the free hand. 

 

But the bastard didn't seem to have enough punishment. His eyes locked with Mortens, the swirling lines seemingly moving on their own. 

 

A sharp pain tore across the side of his back as the fiend pierced a knife through his jacket, the shock causing him to clench his fists uncontrollably as his body arched backward. The imp used this to his advantage, sending a hard right hook right into his face. 

 

The punch shocked his system to the core, and paired with the knife in his back, made him tumble back onto the floor, the wooden boards making for a hard landing on the back of his head, nearly knocking him out. 

 

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, overwhelming his senses. He heard the sound of blood rushing through his ears just as loudly as he heard his heart beating wildly like it was about to burst out of his chest. He still felt the knife embedded in his back, pinned against the floor, probably inside him up to its hilt or more. His vision darkened around the edges as he struggled to breathe normally, the figure above him looming, leaning forward, its twisted bright eyes boring down on him.

 

Morten tried to move his right hand, point the gun up, but a boot came crunching down on top of it, sending a violent shock of pain through his hand, causing him to scream through gritted teeth. 

 

The figure leaned closer down, the eyes now taking over most of his vision, a Chesire grin right under them. His other hand frantically moved to grasp at anything he could use, tapping at the wooden floor and the old carpets. Then, just as he stretched it as far as he could, his fingers brushed against a handle. Whatever it was, he needed it! 

 

The figure continued to stare at him, its hands reaching down to his neck, feeling wet and bloody on his skin as they gripped with maddening force, the ends embedding themselves in his skin, drawing blood. 

 

Just a bit more...he could feel the handle just out of reach...

His heart pumped like a steam train on fire, his vision and hearing muted as he tried his best to resist, to push back, to keep breathing despite the rough hands squeezing his throat shut. 

His fingers wrapped around the handle...Now or never...

Putting every last bit of strength into it, Morten swung the object at the figure, aiming for the side of its head. 

 

---

 

Half of Blitz's world was black. The other half was blurry and unfocused. His mouth felt dirty, an inky, metallic taste on his tongue, his teeth hurting. 

 

Somewhere to the side, he heard a meaty hit connect, followed by screaming. Get up, he had to get up.

Reaching for anything to pull himself up by, he grasped at something on his left, out of his vision, pulling as hard as he could muster. 

 

He caught a glimpse of Striker clutching the side of his face, seemingly stunned for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, a hammer came smashing into his side, an ugly sound of cracking bone following the hit. 

 

Striker doubled down, forced back as Morten and Blitz both got up, hurt but still fighting, two against one. Morten aimed his revolver, his hand shaking from stress and adrenaline. Blitz panted, massaging his shoulder, his tail lying on the floor, unmoving. He tried covering his eye, but it hurt to the touch. 

 

All three of them were bruised and battered, some more than others. Striker eyed both of them and the revolver in the shaking hand. He wasn't smiling anymore. 

 

Without a word, Morten pulled the trigger, the metallic scraping happening in less than a second, but it seemed like an eternity. 

But instead of a fired shot, the hammer struck dead metal. 

Striker twitched when the trigger was pulled, but now that nothing happened, his eyes went wide in disbelief. Morten and Blitz were surprised as well. 

Before the surprise wore off, they were pushed aside, nearly falling, as Striker charged past them, jumping through a window with a loud smash of glass, disappearing outside. As the last shards of glass hit the floor, so did a spent emergency stim, clacking down onto the floor, the steroids inside gone.

 

Morten instinctively tried to shoot after him, but the trigger wouldn't budge. The bastard was gone. 

 

"Christ Almighty..." He uttered, the words heavy on his lips. 

 

Blitz winced at the mention but didn't have the strength to respond. 

 

The two stood there, watching as the snow fell inside, the wind brushing over their wounds as if asking what those were. Bruised, bloodied, and battered. 

 

---

 

Striker sprinted like never before in his life, his legs having a mind of their own, like a pair of racehorses that he just had to point in the right direction. 

 

But he had no idea what the right direction was. All that was on his mind was getting away, using his luck to get himself somewhere, anywhere, safe. 

 

*Fuck this job*  He thought as he jumped over a fallen tree log. It's been nothing but misery ever since he came up here with that annoying royal chicken. If only he had come here by himself, or if he didn't come at all...

 

With grim thoughts, he continued, soon disappearing behind an ever-increasing snowfall. 

 

Notes:

The unknown figure is revealed! What did you think about the introduction of an imp that can take and dish out punishment like no other?

I wish you all a Happy Easter, albeit a bit late :D
I'll see y'all in the next chapter, and remember- Keep being awesome ;)

Chapter 29

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



-/-III-/-
-Thomsons Crossing Community Hall- 3rd Day- Afternoon-

 

"Hold still dammit, you'll only gonna make it worse." Morten said as he adjusted the roll of bandage across Blitz's head. 

The imp looked like he wanted to fuss even more about being treated, but no words left him, just a very angry glare from his good eye. 

With Striker gone, the two had almost collapsed down, their injuries hard on their body and mind. Blitz was especially nervous about his eye. If that bastard made him blind...
Morten, meanwhile, tried his best to remain calm, his efforts helped by the stash of supplies the other imp forgot in his doped hurry to escape. 

Bandages, some alcohol, and a strong piece of wood between their teeth made them go through the patching of the wounds as quietly as they could make it. The knife Striker stabbed into the low of his back didn't feel like it caught any of his organs, though it did still hurt like a bitch, a feeling Morten was more than eager to dish out plenty of if they ever meet again.

The biggest surprise was probably the rifle. With how much duct tape was holding it together, Morten wondered how the thing was even capable of firing. 

The thing was, it couldn't.  The rifle seemed to have had a serious jam, making it little more than a club until it was cleared. However, serious jam being a serious jam, it wouldn't budge even an inch, no matter where or how Morten applied pressure. If he wanted any use out of this thing, he'd need some actual tools to do so. At least the revolver was an easier fix, though he was still pissed at the thing for deciding the worst possible time to fail on him. 

Striker was bluffing with just the pulling of the bolt, and both of them fell for it, paying with blood, and the mare, which was nowhere to be seen. After she stormed out of the building, the panicked horse disappeared, the uneven hoofprints quickly being filled in by the falling snow. 

With the sorry state they were in, neither was in shape to go and track the animal down, not with the weather worsening by the minute. The only thing they could do now was to wait it out, patch their wounds best they could, and hope that the mare didn't go too far away. 

Morten had grim thoughts of the horse being taken down by a pack of wolves, or even worse, a bear. He refrained from mentioning the possibility to Blitz though, as the imp seemed rather worried for the animal, almost as much as he was worried for his eye. 

Sitting in front of the lit fireplace, his mind pieced together bits and pieces of what the other imp said. 

So it seemed they knew each other from before? The "pompous Blueblood" definitely had to be Stolas, unless Blitz slept with more than one royal, something that Morten felt no desire to ask him. 

Blitz had a good question. What did Striker want? He couldn't have been here on accident. And with how the two of them talked and fought... 

"So is this bastard after you or something?" He asked, turning his view away from the fluttering fire and to the imp sitting down on the floor beside him. 

Blitz glanced at him, having to turn more than usual to see him with his good, uncovered eye. 

"Who, Striker? Yeah, I guess so, considering he fucked up during the Harvest Moon Festival."

"What's that about?" 

"A bunch of hillbillies down in Wrath being happy about corn and shit, not really my thing, though I did beat their asses in the Pain Games, ha!" 

"And uh...what did he fuck up exactly?" 

"Oh, he just didn't manage to shoot Stolas in his pretty face before we found his lying ass."  

Morten sat silently, his brow creased. 
Okay, it seemed it was story time about who Blitz and Stolas were. Or at least, a story from the imp's mouth. 

And after that, probably some rest. 

They are gonna have to go look after that horse at some point, although the chance that they find it were slim to none. 

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-
-&-
-Blackrock Penitentiary-

 

During all of the preparation time, he barely had any time to sit down or slow down. Everything needed to be done, and it needed to be done quickly. 
Still, when he was called to the infirmary, he dropped everything, rushing through the prison and across the front yard. 

She came to, after a few hours of solid sleep. The glasses were on her nose again, the tinted lenses hiding her eyes from sight. 

"Hey there...slept well?" He asked, sitting down next to her bed, and leaning closer to her. 

Hesitantly, she reached out, grabbing one of his hands, rubbing one of his fingers. She nodded to his question, before asking her own. 

"What's going on outside? It seems quite busy."

"That's just the others. They are cleaning the place up, fortifying it, making it stronger."

"Why?" 

"Well, let's just say there are some bad people out there that want to do us harm. A lot of harm. But don't worry. We are safe here...I'll keep you safe." He said, his eyes not shying away from her own. 

"Oh," She said, surprised by the answer. There's a lot of it that she doesn't know yet it seems. There'll be time to talk more, once she is better. 

Or perhaps, there's a way to make her better. 
After all, one of the ways to treat amnesia was to bring those inflicted to the place they forgot their memories. 

Or rather, where they were found unconscious in the snow by a convict. 

 

 

-I-*-I-*-I-
- A railway bridge- 4th Day- Late Morning-

 

 

Octavia clutched her arms tightly, trying her best to stay calm. 
Okay, so they are separated from their only guide in this place, and from Loona, the closest person she has to a friend and someone to lean on. She's stuck with a disguised Deadly Sin and Moxxie, and they don't know the exact way forward. 
Okay, they actually did know the way forward. 

But why the fuck did it have to be this!?

 

A giant trestle bridge spanned between two cliffs in front of them. The tracks continued further past it, leading to Coastal Highway. 

 

The whole structure creaked and groaned as the wind passed through its support beams, seemingly moving with it. Or at least it looked like it was moving. By Lucifer...
She didn't dare to even look down to the base of the bridge, her heart was already pumping so much it felt like it'd burst right out of her then and there. 

"That's the only way forward, yes?" She heard Asmodeus ask. Moxxie, now out of the backpack, held his fists balled up as he looked over the bridge and the tunnel from which they came. 

"I guess so, sir." The imp said, looking around to see if perhaps there is another way that they missed. There was not. Just giant boulders and cliffs of black rock, with a pine forest stretching beneath the bridge itself. 

"Well, who's going first?" Asmodeus asked once again, tightening the scarf around his face. The damn thing liked to flutter in the wind, much to his annoyance. Then again, he found a lot of things rather annoying just now. 

Octavia moved closer to the bridge, and without thinking looked down. Her eyes popped out of her head as the distance to the ground below sank and twisted in her view, becoming deeper and deeper. She found it hard to breathe, and she felt like her ears were ringing. 

"Miss Octavia?" Moxxie yelled, yanking at her arm. 
Blinking, Octavia looked from the bridge and down to the imp, who seemed like he was uncomfortable too. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, a look of concern on his face. 
Was she okay? Fuck no! She just had one of the most dreadful experiences in her life. 

"What's wrong?" She heard Asmodeus ask, giving her a questioning look. 

"I...I..." She tried to find the words, but Moxxie was quicker. 

"Sir, I think it may be the heights." 

"The heights?" 

"Mhm..." 

Octavia gulped down, rubbing at her shoulders as she looked to the side, focusing on some random spot on the rocks. Was it the heights? Well, she certainly didn't feel safe crossing that creaking pile of wood without any way to support herself. The climbing down and up those ropes from two days ago flashed in her mind, as well as the fear she had when she almost fell. The one time she did fall, she had Loona to hold her, but now, the only thing that would welcome her down there were fallen logs and jagged rocks. 

"Well, in that case, it's a simple solution. A blindfold!" Asmodeus said, clapping his hands together. 

"A blindfold?" Octavia asked, brought from her musing at the rocks. 

"Yes, a blindfold. It goes over your eyes so you can see. You'll simply hold onto the sleight, and I'll push from behind. Problem solved!" 

Before she could even voice a complaint, the disguised Sin was already next to her, holding a strip of cloth between his hands. He didn't move to tie it around her head, however, instead appearing as if he was waiting for something. Her eyes moved from the cloth in his hands to his eyes looking down at her, wondering what is it that he waited for. 

"Uh..."

"Are you alright with being blindfolded?" 

"Oh...y-yeah, it's alright." She said, a bit surprised.

With a hum and a nod, Asmodeus raised the blindfold to her eyes.

Notes:

Hey folks, I wish you all a happy Labor Day!
Sorry about the down time being so stretched out, I kinda cracked my head against the slab trying to push forward towards the "next thing that I have planned and don't just make up as I go" , but luckily I had a breakthrough with some help a few days ago. I know it's not as long as usual, and I'm sorry about that too.

I wish you all the best for the future, and that the new chapter comes out sooner than this one. I'll try to.

Chapter 30: Imps out of the bag, secrets well... not so much

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

-/-I-/-

-Bleak Inlet- 4th Day- Around noon-

 

The inside of the tower looked decent enough. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, which Guy assumed meant there wasn't any recent activity here. Probably because the nearby wolf pack meant that going up here wasn't exactly safe. Which, in turn, made the place safe for the two of them. Neat. 


Placing his backpack next to the singular bed, and the rifle on top of the wooden shelf, he stretched his back, moving to inspect the inside of the tower in detail. 

 

Some old papers, maps, and pictures hung off the corkboard. A couple of wolves staring at the camera, a train car for transporting logs, full of the same, some pie charts with accompanying text he didn't bother to read, and a couple of sticky notes, haphazardly posted around the board.

One of them looked a bit newer than the others. 

 

"Road blocked. Got what I could from the station, gonna try to leg over to the cannery." 

 

This sounded like it was worth checking out. But not now. 

Now, what they needed was some warmth and rest, at least an hour or so. 

Luckily, the pot belly stove was surrounded by a plentiful pile of wood, just waiting to be burned. He could do with some tea to ease the strained nerves. 

As he crouched in front of the stove, the doors opened behind him. Loona was done with gazing at the sights outside. 

 

"I'm making tea, want some?" He asked, lighting a match, and quickly moving it to the prepared kindling inside the stove. The flame caught at the small bits of wood, spreading from the already burnt-up matchstick. 

 

"Yeah, yeah...tea's good." She said, sounding like she wasn't completely there. The wolves must've shaken her hard. 

 

Weird how she had such a reaction to the wolves when she seemed to have killed almost all of those cultists back at the camp office by herself without so much as a twitch. 

 

Weird indeed. 

 

"We're gonna rest for an hour or so, warm up in here before we head out. Found a note mentioning a station of some sort, and the cannery you probably saw down by the sea." 

 

The creaking of the bed frame told him that the girl sat down, but no word or even a hum came out of her. Placing the last of the sticks inside the stove, Guy topped off the small pile of wood with a piece of cedar, before closing the hatch with the creak of metal. 

 

"Loona." 

 

"Loona?" 

 

The girl didn't answer, not even when he turned around and stood up. She was still sitting on the bed, staring at some point down on the floor, her hands clutched together. The look on her face was that of someone deep in their own thoughts, not here. She ground her jaw and clutched her arms, squeezing her hands together. 

 

Before he could move to her, her backpack flopped to the floor without anyone touching it. The sudden sound snapped her out of her trance, making her straighten up, her eyes frantically darting around the room, locking with Guys for a moment before they settled on her backpack. 

 

"Easy, hey." Guy said, moving to place a hand on her shoulder. Right as his fingers met with the fabric of her jacket, she jumped away as if burned, a nervous look in her eyes. 

 

Guy put his hands up, leaning back away while not breaking eye contact. He needed to be careful about what he does next since Loona was already worked up enough. The girl must've had a really bad encounter that first time, for her reaction to be like this... 

 

"We are not in danger anymore. You're safe here. They can't hurt you." 

 

-

 

The words sounded so similar. So familiar. 

 

The sight of Guy melted and fused with the sight of Blitzo, trying to calm her down. 

 

Past and the present became one as her mind relapsed, recalling the memories opened up by the wild wolves.

 

The windows of the tower changed into the stripped pattern walls of Blitz's apartment in Imp City. The place looked crummy and dilapidated, just like the rest of the neighborhood, and the whole city. Yet it seemed comfy, decently tidy, and most importantly, warm. Her "room" back in the "orphanage" was more like a prison cell than a place where one was supposed to live. That whole place was a rotting slump, one she still didn't, couldn't, fully grasp the idea that she escaped.

 

But there he was, her savior, with that dumb grin on his face, looking at her with a feeling in his eyes that she wasn't familiar with. 

 

-

 

Guy clutched his hands as he watched over the girl staring blankly at him. 

It had been like that for what, a minute now? Felt like an hour...

 

Something didn't feel right with all of this, but he didn't know how to deal with it. 

Except...he did know. 

 

Kneeling in front of her, he gently put his hand on her shoulder. The other grasped her hands. Taking a deep breath, he uttered the same word she uttered to him. 

 

"Breathe"

 

-

 

Millie stretched herself, finally out of that backpack. She wasn't seen, that's for sure, but she wasn't exactly stealthy, the backpack flopping to the floor being the evidence of her escape. Lucky for her, she won't be returning to it anytime soon. 

 

She slipped outside, the doors not even creaking as she closed them behind her. Rotating her hips and stretching her hands over her head, she looked at the black and white land that stretched below and around the fire watch tower. 

 

The imp had been idle far too long in her opinion, and needed to get herself moving. The injuries from two days ago healed nicely, leaving white streaks where she was cut, joining the gallery of the older ones spread across her body. With marks like those, who needed tattoos anyway?

 

So, station and a cannery. From here, Millie saw that the cannery was a no-go. It'd take her far too long to get there, and she wasn't planning on being out for more than an hour or so, as long as Guy said they would be resting. 

 

That left the station "of some sort" for her to check out. Better that than sitting in that backpack for an hour without being able to even move. 

 

Looking through the pickets of the railing, the imp managed to discern a shape just below the branches of the lowest trees, a piece of exposed road, leading to somewhere. Where somewhere, that's what she was out to find. Preferably, the station in question. 

 

Her feet gently tapped against the metal staircase as she made her way down the tower. Her knife was drawn and at the ready, even though she knew it was better to flee than fight. Still, it didn't sit right with her to act like a coward. But better a live coward than a dead show-off, that was for sure. 

 

Reaching the bottom of the tower, she gave one last look at the path they came by. The wolves were still milling around there, their hides blending in well with the scenery around them, but still, not so much that they were completely invisible. 

 

Happy and grateful that the road was the opposite of the way they came, Millie jumped off of the last stair and began her solo exploration of the snowy outdoors in earnest, leaving small footprints in the snow behind her as the distance between her and the tower grew.

 

-I-*-I-*-I-

- A railway bridge- 4th Day- Late Morning-

 

Octavia held her eyes closed tightly, despite the fabric tied over them. 

She felt the deep groans of wood under each step of Asmodeus' boots as they moved over the bridge, pushing the sleigh in front of him, her on it. She clutched at the handhold, afraid that if she were to let go, she'd immediately fall off. The wind grazed over what little exposed skin was on her face, mixing in and out with the creaking beneath them. 

 

*Just a little more*  she thought, the words repeating in her mind. 

 

Just a little more, and it will be over. They'll get back to looking for her dad. And then she'll never have to face bridges again. 

 

-

 

Moxxie sat at the front of the sled, more than willing to brave the cold winds. They were preferable to being stuck in the backpack on the shoulders of Asmodeus. 

 

He couldn't place where his mood was, as it seemed like it shifted rather often. It was best to just leave him be unless he asks something first. 

 

They moved at an okay speed. Not exactly too slow, but not fast enough to risk falling from the creaking contraption. To think trains pass over this thing...or well, passed at some point in time. It would be rather bad if one were to pass over at this moment. 

 

The end of the curved trestle bridge neared closer and closer, Moxxie looking from it over to the sight that stretched at both his left and his right. 

 

On one side a magnificent waterfall graced the snow-covered cliffs, the foaming water creating a deafening noise as it crashed against the rocks in its path, a thin watery mist spreading through the cold air, sticking to his skin and clothes. 

 

On the other side spread a deep ravine that opened up as it moved further from the bridge, snow-covered trees dotting its sides, while its middle was chock full of fallen logs, crushed between the rocks and the frozen stream running between them. It stretched far into the distance, its sides opening up to reveal more hills filled with trees, with distant, weird mountainous shapes in the distance. 

 

 

-

 

Finally, they were on the other side, the creaking wood replaced with crunchy snow. Octavia undid her blindfold only when both Admodeus and Moxxie both said to her twice that they were, indeed, over the bridge. With the cloth off her eyes, she blinked away the darkness as she watched over the bridge they just crossed. The other side might just well be on the other side of the world for her. 

 

They were one step closer to their goal. One step closer to getting back to somewhere warmer. One step closer back to Loona. She needed the safety the older girl gave her. Or at least the semblance of it. Fuck, anything to make her feel less like shit.

 

-*-//-IV-//-*-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- 3rd Day- Afternoon-

 

Stolas tapped around the house absent-mindedly, his mind swimming through a lake of thoughts and memories, recalling the first time he met Blitz so many years ago, to their surprise reunion once they were adults.

After all, there was scarcely little to do in the house, considering Rudy kept his distance, and everyone else was asleep. 

As his legs walked him into the living room, a glint of something on the couch caught the attention of his two pairs of eyes.  

 

Stepping closer to the couch, Stolas leaned over, his eyes opening wide as his gaze looked down upon the source of the glint. 

 

"Well hello there," Stolas said quietly, basically to himself. 

 

The thing that shined turned out to be one of the prostheses of the one, and only (real) Fizzarolli, the jester imp favorite of Asmodeus himself.  

 

"What are you, of all the demons, doing here, of all the places?" Stolas asked, again to himself, his eyes tracing the lines of the metal noodle arms up, from the loose fists to the place where it connected to the body proper, hidden under an oversized hoodie sleeve. In this state, the clothes didn't help hide his identity. The metal arms and that face are unique across all of Seven Rings, much like other exquisite individuals like Angel Dust and Verosika Mayday. 

 

Ugh, he had to remind himself of her. The image of her singing in the House of Asmodeus was still fresh in his memory, and the whole event was something the prince would rather just stash away in the dusty corners of his mind, never to remind himself of them again. 

 

Still, this could perhaps explain that flare in the sky. Or at least, for whom it was meant. 

 

That could mean that...perhaps Octavia isn't here? But that makes no sense...Asmodeus wouldn't need something as crude as an enhanced flare to call for his favorite. A Deadly Sin has powers much more suited for finding those he or she desires. 
But that Aurora wasn't anything ordinary...

 

Hmm...Best to ask the imp when he wakes up. Maybe. 

 

And that meant waiting... and going back to what he was doing before.

More nothing and rummaging through his mind like it was a drawer.

 

*Ugh, I need a drink* The Goetian Prince thought, turning away from the couch, and heading for the basement. 

 

He wished time could pass faster, or that something would happen to get his mind off of thinking. 

 

/-III-/-

-Thomsons Crossing Community Hall- 3rd Day- Late Afternoon- 

 

Okay, Goetian Prince and royalty, that much made sense. 

Okay, magic wielder and a user of some weird "grimeriar", as Blitz put it, that he could connect together so it works. 

 

But what Blitz did for a living, that he didn't say. Not even when Morten said it can't be that bad. 

What kind of job would an imp hide from him anyway? Morten doubted he was a sex worker or something like that. Then again, he could only imagine how things were down there...

 

It was then that it clicked for him that there really was something after death. All of that shit was real! And it seemed a helluva lot different than what the Bible taught. Maybe. 

 

"So, about the horse." He started, intent on clearing the air of awkwardness between the two. Immediately Blitz's eyes opened wide, a focused look on his face. 

 

"Mhmm?" 

 

"We should probably go look for her, considering she has all of our supplies." The man said, moving to stand up, stretching himself as he did. Fuck did he want to just lie down and roll into a blanket. 

 

It'll have to wait until they find the horse. Or more probably, what's left of it. There's a very obvious reason out there why they haven't seen any livestock or domestic animals during their time surviving post-flare.

With pained looks on their faces, and with weapons in hand, the man and the imp left the community hall, making sure that the coast was clear before they shut the doors behind them. With any luck, they should get back into into the warm embrace of the hall before long.

Notes:

Hey people. Contrary to a *maybe* (?) popular belief, I'm not dead, nor do I intend to die any time soon. Maybe when this story is written through XD

I've been laying off writing for a bit too long, and I won't ask you to show understanding. Tear me a new one in the comments if you so desire, I deserve it.
I'm sorry for being an ass, you don't deserve such treatment.

I wish you all all the best, and I'm deeply grateful for you being a part of my life. Thank you, and I'm sorry.

Chapter 31: Impish perspective and nasum contritum

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-I-/-

-Bleak Inlet- 4th Day- Around noon-

 

Guy held his arms on her shoulders, not looking away as he focused on her red pupils and the words he uttered. 

 

"Breathe." 

 

It was the only thing that came to mind, considering it dragged his mind back to the surface just a few hours ago. The memories of that moment were still fresh, the ink barely dry on the pages of his mind.

 

No sooner had he repeated it again had Loona seemed to snap, jumping back from him, the palm of her hand flying square into his face. 

He didn't have time to block the blow. 

 

The sound of cartilage breaking filled his ears as the impact sent him tumbling back, nearly landing his ass onto the stove. A pained yell escaped his mouth as Guy clutched at his nose and the back of his head, having struck the wall of the tower. 

 

"Ugh...point taken" He muttered, already feeling the warmth of blood on his hands. Great. 

 

--

 

She was back in the tower, the mixed memories of her past abandoning her again, flying back into their dark spot in the deep pit of her mind. Again she looked around her, before her eyes settled on Guy lying against the wall, hand on his face, and a look that showed annoyance, mixed with other "bad" emotions. He stared back as a few droplets of dark crimson blood escaped down his hand, falling quietly onto the wooden floor. The taste of iron filled her mouth as her nose picked up the unique scent of the red liquid spilling out of an open wound.

 

Loona didn't dare to open her mouth, not knowing what to say, where to even begin. She felt like her mind was mush, bad things happening all around, past and present. She needed to shut herself off somehow, it was too much...

 

-

 

Guy sat on the floor, his eyes not leaving Loona. Inside him a brew of emotions swirled around, fighting for dominance. He felt anger over the broken nose but knew it wasn't her fault. Not fully at least. Yet the rage inside roared and shouted, insulted by the insolence of the girl that sat in front of him. How dare she smash him in the nose like that for trying to be there for her?! 

 

He felt his forehead becoming warmer, his teeth hurting how hard he clenched them against each other. 

 

"I'll just...get out of your hair." He finally uttered out, reaching for the desk to help himself up. Loona moved to stand up too, to try and help him up, but Guy was already on his feet, holding out his arm in front of him as a sign to stay away. 

 

"An hour. We head out in an hour. Rest and clear your head, and warm up." 

 

With that, he walked over to the door, floorboards creaking under his boots. Without looking back, he opened the doors, a small gust of wind bringing the smell of the cold sea to his nostrils, mixing with the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

 

A few steps and a slam of the door later, he leaned onto the metal railing. His boot flew into one of the thin metal balustrades, and then again, and again until his foot hit nothing but air. The piece of metal tore off, flying down to the ground, hitting the metal structure as it spun in the air. As it hit the ground, it caused a flock of grey-white birds to give flight, alerted by the sudden noise. Their small, round forms quickly disappeared over the pine trees, lost among the natural camouflage, the flapping of their wings silent against the constant breeze carrying the salty sea air inland.

 

Feeling like shit, again...Why does it always have to be like that? Can there be a break at least once? 

 

Guy stared at nothing as he pondered, thinking in silence as the warmth drained from his cheeks. 

 

*A break...please Lord, just a simple break from the shit...*

 

---

 

Millie slogged through the snow, trying her best to avoid the thickest snowfall, while also trying to stay close to rocks and trees to hide herself. It mattered little in the end, as she dropped through the snow up to her knees seemingly everywhere. 

 

The pair of kid shoes she wore did little to help with ground pressure, and if she had more experience with winter weather, she would've used those old badminton rackets that collected dust in the camp office. But as it is known, there is no snow in Wrath. No snow, no experience. 

 

As small clouds of air trailed behind her, the imp reached the almost completely covered parking lot, with only a few spots of weathered asphalt and white lines indicating that cars park there. That, and the few cars still parked here, their windows frozen over, their shells covered in hoarfrost, and a few centimeters of snow on their roofs and hoods.

 

Millie tried to force open the closest car with no luck, the thing was locked, and it seemed like the handle itself was frozen solid as well. She could try to bust open a window, but she didn't feel like she has the time. Plus, the noise will definitely attract unwanted attention. 

 

The second one didn't turn out any better, nor did the third. With a grumble, she moved on, up a small flight of stairs that led towards a wooden bridge, a structure visible past it, sitting among large rocks. Loona and Guy will definitely pass through here, so her not checking the cars probably won't matter. 

 

-

 

The front door of what appeared to be a radio station was locked. Of course. But you know what they say- When fate closes a door, luck opens a window, and karma deactivates the alarm system. 

 

Or in this case, a freaky Aurora deactivates the alarm system, alongside everything else electric. 

 

Jumping down from the small window, Millie found herself inside a dark, kinda dusty room, with rays of light shining through the dirty windows. 

 

The large metal boxes with a bunch of knobs and dials, which Millie assumed were radios or something like it, were tightly packed inside the room she was in, along with a work desk and some shelves, all of it covered in a thin layer of dust, which Millie kicked up with each step around the room. 

 

A bright blue book caught her attention for a moment, due to a picture of a revolver on its front. "Small Arms Handbook" was written on the top part in bold white letters, with the author's name at the bottom, below the picture. 

 

The sight of the firearm instantly made her call to her husband. He probably...no, definitely, definitely had all the knowledge of this book in his one sweet horn. A real magician with all sorts of guns her Moxxie. The thought of him caused her to give a slight chuckle as she took one last look at the book, leaving it there on the floor as she moved elsewhere. 

 

Inside another room, two more work desks were placed opposite each other, with two metal lockers and a shelf making the room feel quite stuffy. 

 

The same layer of dust was spread here, the equipment untouched, the floors without footprints. A few knick-knacks and other interesting bits were spread around the shelves and the drawers, something the pair would definitely pick up if they make it inside. Which made her look for the front door. It wasn't hard to find it, nor was it hard to unlock it from inside, the single-side lock opening with a twist and a click. 

 

With that dealt with, Millie went back to the previous room, getting up on the work desks to see if there is anything of use. A few yellowed papers were strewn across the surface, all written in the same font used on computers, a bunch of useless data and whatnot. 

 

With a sigh and a shrug, Millie jumped down from the desk, and after a few more moments of checking out the corners of the rooms inside, left through the front door. Before she returned to the tower, the imp decided to take a look at the large radio tower standing behind the station. The large metal construct gave slight creaks as its form resisted the constant wind, bits of rust showing here and there. If her luck still held strong, it hopefully won't collapse while she was there. 

 

The sight of the land below was spectacular, what due to its beauty, what due to so many different things in such a small space. 

 

The first thing that caught her attention was the clump of red buildings straight in front of her, just past a partially frozen body of water. It appeared abandoned at first, but soon Millie noticed a thin trail of white smoke slithering across the sky, carried by the wind as it disappeared. It looked like a controlled fire, which meant someone was down there to control it, or close nearby. A boat of some sort was sitting at an odd angle at one of the piers, partially hidden behind some rocks. From this distance, it was hard for her to spot any smaller details, and it looked like whoever was there was good at hiding, or simply not wandering out in the open. 

What was wandering out in the open, however, was a few deer, on the other side of the body of water. One deer to be precise, his crown visible even from this distance, and a few does along with him. 

 

They seemed to be looking out for food, striking the ground with their hooves, trying to uncover some grass or roots underneath. Millie assumed they were good on food, so there was no need to think about hunting for more. Not to mention the fact that she didn't exactly have an idea of how to get down from here. The whole place was pretty high above the rest of the region. 

 

Her eyes scanned the land for some more time, watching the trees swaying in the wind, and the lazy waves washing against the ice, leaving behind thin white foam as they returned. 

 

On a small island near the coast, a lighthouse stood tall above even the highest trees on the isolated patch of land. Two red stripes horizontally interrupted the white color of the structure, along with the red underbelly of the gallery. The roof of the cupola was hidden under a layer of snow, but there seemed to be little to no snow on the gallery of the walkway. Either that or things simply appeared different at such a distance. There was no point in even trying to make out anything through the small windows, the interior pitch black.

 

There were also four small cottages on the nearby coast, along with wooden piers, and a small fishing hut on the ice. Two of the cottages, or what was left of them, were little more than charred remains half buried in snow, the remnants of the walls somehow still standing. One of the intact cottages sported a large stone chimney at one side, though there seemed to be no smoke coming from it. There was also no one around them, nor the fishing hut. 

 

*Looks like a pretty interesting place. Though I ain't so sure about who's stoking that fire over there. Could be more of those freaks.*

 

She spent some more time soaking in the view, enjoying the weak rays of the sun on her face, warming her up despite the passing wind. It indeed was a nice view, and she could picture it without the white coverings and the frozen shores, during the lush springtime. It felt like a place worth visiting if it was like that. 

 

Who knows, maybe when this whole business is done, Moxxie and she could go on a romantic getaway. It sure beats having to deal with a Deadly Sin and their favorite.

 

-/-III-/-

-Thomsons Crossing Community Hall- 3rd Day- Late Afternoon- 

 

The air passing over the covered-up eye felt...weird. At the same time, it kinda cooled the wound but hurt too. Fuck that shitty ass cowboy! What a snake, going for the eyes...

 

Half of the world around him was just...empty, a streak of white cloth acting as a diving line between the snow, the trees, and the sky, and the murky blackness that made up its own shapes and sizes that weren't there. He had to measure his steps more carefully, the depth perception becoming a terribly one-sided affair. 

 

"Over there, 'cross the bridge." He heard Morten say, having to turn more than usual to bring the man to the view of his only healthy eye. 

 

The human probably looked better than him, given the fact he wasn't missing an eye. Though his eye was still in its socket, the only feeling coming out from it was that of dull pain, that sometimes flared up if he moved his healthy eye too much in any direction. 

 

Morten had earned himself a knife almost into the kidney for coming to help him. Despite being late, it was better late than never, though Blitz wouldn't have minded if he was just a fucking bit faster. Fuck!

 

Not only a knife wound but also twelve nasty piercing wounds on his neck, where Striker's sharp fingers cut into the skin. A thick bandage and a scarf hid it, but the pain definitely remained.

 

They followed the faint prints the horse left in the snow, the snowfall only dampening them, not completely covering them. It also seemed to ease up now, only lightly falling from the sky, an occasional snowflake catching to their clothes.

 

The prints led them over the bridge, past a few small wooden houses that seemed to be in very bad shape. Not burnt though, like those in the first town Stolas and he passed.

 

Stolas...what would he say if he saw him now? Or rather, what will he say, once they return? Would he finally realize the truth? 

In a way, it was his fault. His fault for fucking it all up, making Stolas call him to talk somewhere private, away from it all. Had he been better...he would still have both of his eyes healthy. 

 

His ears were filled with the sound of snow crunching under his boots, and the flowing of the wind that enveloped them both in its cold embrace. His mind wandered as he followed the figure next to him, calling back to all those previous moments that led him here, now. 

 

Getting caught trying to steal the book. 

Meeting Stolas every month.

Getting caught by a bunch of stupid nerds.

Calling Stolas on a date just to be able to watch M&M's...

 

Fuck this was all so stupid, so so...so Blitz. 

What a fucki...

 

"Hold up, stop" Morten stopped, his hand reaching to stop the imp as well, stopping his train of thought. He pushed him back behind a small mound of snow, lowering himself into the snow, Blitz following his example.

 

They seemed to have gone a long way away from the hall, though it still seemed like they were on the road. 

 

And they weren't the only ones on that road either. 

They found the horse. 

They found a pack of wolves.

 

The animals seemed to have been completely focused on their meal, not noticing them despite being relatively close.

 

The sight made him shudder, his heart tightening as his one good eye looked at the horrific carnage the wild beasts put onto his sweet horse, butchering it, opening it up in the middle of the road, the innards releasing a trail of steam into the cold air as the animals feasted, tearing into the fur, devouring the organs and entrails as specks of blood dripped down their maws. He felt his hands balling into fists by themselves, the urge to scream and shout and charge the stupid wankstains filling his head, his partial vision filling with red around the edges, his whole body tensing up.

 

Just as he was about to get up, he felt a hand pull him back down, pressing onto him from above.

 

"Don't even think about it, wait a moment." Morten hissed through gritted teeth. Blitz turned his head to him, but before he could say anything, the revolver in his free hand flashed, aimed at the wolves. The trigger pull caused a flash of light, along with a piercing noise of a bullet being fired, the crack spreading all around them, echoing against the rocks and the trees. 

 

His head turned back to the wolves as he saw one of them yelp out as if struck, while the others started to whine as well, quickly scattering away from the corpse. 

 

Morten almost jumped from his place next to him, pulling him up by his jacket as well, snow kicking all around them.

 

"Quick, before they get back!"

 

 

---

 

Just his luck to stumble onto it like that. Great.

 

The mare got unlucky. Poor thing, all scared and in pain in her last moments. Fuck.

 

There was nothing they could do now, but take what they could carry and gun it out of there. A shitty end to their trip, before it even properly began.

 

Running to it, he almost jumped onto his knees as he reached for the bag strapped onto the rear side, undoing the straps while his hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through them. Quick, quick, he has to hurry up, fuck fuck fuck....

 

Finally, he got it off, putting the straps around his shoulders, wincing a bit when the lower end of the pack hit his back, close to the still fresh wound. 

 

Already he heard growling as the wolves stopped running, turning around to get back to their meal. Bastards didn't take much to scare but didn't scare for long either.

 

The other backpack was pinned under the horse. 

 

"Help me out, come on Blitz!" He shouted, trying to pull the back side up. His boots slid against the snow as he held it up as much as he could, his muscles burning up, his arms hurting. Where the fuck was that imp!?

 

Finally, he heard the scraping of cloth and straps against the snow and released his hold on the body, his hands stinking of blood and wet fur. The bruised and battered imp put on the backpack, the look in his only visible eye clearer than before. He's focused now. Good. 

 

The wolves were closing in, their growling making the hair on his neck stand up as he gripped his revolver again, his hands shaking after having to hold up so much weight. 

 

"Go, follow that sign, move!" He shouted to the imp, breaking into a run, leaving the horse behind them. 

 

They passed a partially broken fence and a couple of signs with bold letters stating "NO TRESPASSING" and "MINE ROAD" 

 

Just his luck to stumble onto it like that. Great.

 

Notes:

Hello my good people. No, I am not dead. Yes, I am way behind a "schedule". Reason being I dabbled in video games and other time-consuming activities that aren't writing. I hope I can keep up with writing more often now that the body is used to this summer heat.

Have you noticed any changes compared to the island as we know it for ourselves?
I have yet to try out the ToTFT for myself in detail, kinda / sorta waiting for all the new additions to be added before actually getting into it, plus I wanted to do those two boring achievements together and yeah...boring be boring, so I swapped to other games.
Episode 8 was great. Soo uhh, yeah, hope your lives are doing great too :D

Uhh, I'm a part of a Discord server called Hellaverse Central now, or rather since the December of 2022. You can find it here, if you want- https://discord.gg/FdZuPWtq5R

Hope to see ya there ;), and wish you all the best. Comments and critique are welcome and encouraged <3

Chapter 32: Under the mountain

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-III-/-
-Somewhere near Thomson's Crossing- 3rd Day- Late Afternoon- 

 

The sound of barks and growls followed them as the pair ran up the snow-covered road, their breathing heavy and ragged from exertion. With each step, their boots crunched into deep snow, sometimes up to their ankles, sometimes almost up to their knees. Blitz struggled with the added weight on his back, his wounds showing themselves up, making each move a pain in the ass, muscles, back, everywhere! Even his tongue hurt!

His vision became blurry as he struggled to keep up with Morten who, despite his wounds, still wasn't as fucked up as himself. The man in front of him went further forward with every step, the distance between them growing, the distance between those loud barks and his ass shortening.

He felt his knees buckle, causing him to stutter, nearly falling onto his hands. His lungs felt like they were being pressed in a freezing vice, his breath rolling and clinging to the exposed skin of his face. The damn bandage itched like crazy...he wanted so hard to scratch it...everything hurt so much...

Blitz took another step before his legs gave, causing him to collapse. A weak sound escaped his throat as he reached out with his hands, barely managing to hold himself, his face just inches away from the snow. A bead of sweat rolled down his face, falling to the ground as he tried to get back up. His heart beat like crazy, his wounds hurt, felt like they were opening by themselves...come on, just a bit more...

Another shot rang out, just as loud as the first one. Looking up, he saw Morten firing another shot, blinding him for a moment, the faint smell of gunpowder mixing with the smell of snow in his nostrils. Another cloud of steam surrounded him as the man leaned down to grab at him. Blitz offered his hand. 

The sounds behind them seemed to distance themselves somewhat, but they were still there. The grip Morten had on his hand was like a vice, his fingers hurting as he was pulled further up an incline. Where the fuck was this guy going?!

Eventually, the ground under his feet started to straighten out, the incline growing lesser and lesser until they reached what seemed like a small outcropping above the trees.

 

 

Even in his state, Blitz could see the land stretching below them, noticing the houses of the town in the distance, and the road that they took to get there. Further away, what seemed like miles away, he could see the dark building that was the farmhouse...

 

"Come on, in there!" Morten's voice sounded behind him, the wind carrying it away into nothingness. 
Turning around, he could see what looked like an entrance to an old mine,  several planks loosely nailed over a busted chain link door.

 

 

-

 

They squeezed through the snow-filled hole, scraping their palms and knees against the rock floor of the mineshaft. Behind them, wolves were inching to get inside as well with less trouble, despite their size.

 

 

"Get that crate!" Morten shouted, pulling at a dull-green wooden crate, pushing it towards the entrance. The wood scraped against the rock as the two pressed it against the entrance. They were met with resistance almost immediately, as claws and teeth gnawed and struck at the wood creaking and groaning, their bodies caught on the chain link door, rattling like an eerie dinner bell, calling the hunters of the forest to feast on man and imp.

To Blitz, it came through fog. He could feel the rough edge of the crate wedging itself between his shoulder plates, uncomfortable on his back spikes, constantly fighting him, trying to push him off his feet shakily planted into the black rock. He pushed back with all his energy, but his eye wandered elsewhere, towards the only path forward, going down, deeper and out of sight...

How long had they stayed like that? A few minutes? An hour? Two? It felt like both. The wolves let off, having spent their strength on trying to get through the sturdy crate blocking their path. Whimpers and quiet snarls were quickly lost in the wind. Blitz swore he could hear someone...something...whispering, as it passed over the entrance, almost inaudible from the whistling that came from it.

-

Morten slid to the floor, his ass meeting snow and uncomfortable pebbles much to his dislike. But right now, he didn't care all that much, his energy spent, sapped away by the adrenaline leaving his veins. Greedily he breathed in with mouth and nose, sucking onto the air like there was no tomorrow. His head lulled back, meeting the wood of the crate that quite possibly...no, definitely...definitely saved their bacon just now. 

So they were back in the same mineshaft that Rudy and he traveled through to get to the valley. Lady Luck seemed to smile down on him, what with the horse dying so close to that access road. 
With the wolves on the other side of the entrance, and with rather poor means of defending themselves, the best thing Morten could think of was heading back to the quonset on the other side of the mountains, by the shore. There, they could resupply, heal up, maybe even fix the rifle that has been dangling at his back for the last hour or so.

"Blitz...Blitz, you alive?"

The imp beside him breathed just as heavily, with a slight rasp to each breath he took, his mouth half open, revealing the sharp set of teeth he sported. Sheesh, those things could probably bite off his fingers easier than the wolves.

"Yeah yeah just...uhh, just admiring the nice man cave you got here. And the roughhousing with the crate, what a joy. And oh look, you even got a shelf!" His tone was sarcastic and jokey, though Morten could sense the drained state he was in. Way to put up a facade. 

Snorting at the response, Morten looked at the empty metal shelf to his left, a piece of his mind telling him how it could have been used for blocking the entrance as well. 

"Heh, yeah, it's my sex toys shelf, though all of 'em are stuck up that Striker prick's ass right now."

At first, the imp was silent but then burst out laughing, a snarky, loud sound, the cackling bouncing off of the tunnel walls. 

"HA! Ya, ain't that the fucking truth! Haa we sure showed that bitch what it means to mess with us. Ha!" 

"Damn right we did."

"Next time we see him, we're getting your dildoes back, AND finishing the fucker off for good." 

Nodding, Morten had to agree with that. Well not with the dildoes part, the finishing the fucker off part. 

"Fuck yeah." 

-

They spent a few more minutes just sitting at the entrance, letting their muscles rest, their lungs fill, and their eyes adapt to the darkness. They weren't going to go in without light of course, Morten had the storm lantern packed, with a fair amount of fuel, having refueled it from the jerry can Rudy and he found in this same mine. 

With the flick of the switch, the flint inside shot up sparks, igniting the fuel, burning brightly behind the protective glass, the flame bobbing and weaving, dancing to its little tune.

Without waiting too long after that, the two headed the only way forward. Down the tunnel.

The mine air felt stale and musty, heavy compared to the air of the outside world, crisp and clean, cold and waking. The sound of their steps bounced off the irregular walls of the tunnel, pebbles kicked by their boots clicking against the stones and the rocks, sending echoes of their movement far and deep into the mine. 

Morten didn't remember much from his last time here when it came to details, though he did still had a general idea of which paths to take to get to the other side. It shouldn't take them too long.


The support beams creaked ominously as they passed under them, as if telling them they do not belong here, below the mountain. 

As the two passed the first fork, heading left, Morten felt a tug in his stomach. A bad feeling. An uneasy feeling. Like something wasn't quite right. A frown formed on his face as he pulled out his revolver, holding the lantern just a bit higher. They still had plenty of ammo, but with only six in the drum, each shot counted. After a few meters, they came to a slight turn to the right, leading them into a larger chamber, with a raised wooden structure acting as a secured stairway leading from two upper tunnels down to the bottom of the chamber. The whole thing had seen better days, the planks creaking under their boots as they stepped onto the platform. To their right was the stairway that led down and towards the two tunnels to their left.

 

Stopping, Morten raised the lantern, his eyes going over the three other entrances to the chamber, his ears pricked up, trying to catch any noise that didn't belong. Listening over the hissing of the storm lantern, there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. It seemed, to him at least, that all was okay. But that gut feeling...

"Kill the light." Blitz whispered loudly into his ear. He felt an arm pulling him by the back of his jacket back into the tunnel they came from, another pulling at his leg, the sharp fingertips making themselves known as they poked through the fabric, trying their best to move him quickly.

 

 

His eyes caught the glimmer of light coming from one of the lower tunnels that wasn't there moments before. Nearly losing his balance because of the imp, he flicked the lantern off with a metallic click, and the darkness enveloped them.

 

They staggered into the wall of the tunnel, their legs struggling to hold them as the pair lowered themselves closer to the ground, trying their best to hide. Blitz's single visible eye gave off a yellowish glow, weakly illuminating the tunnel and their hiding spot. 

 

"Blitz, your eye." Morten whispered, but Blitz already closed it, moving lower to the ground. 

The uneasy feeling in Morten's stomach continued to gnaw at him.

 

They waited in silence, staring out of the tunnel at the glow of the light at the other side of the chamber, its source out of sight.

 

Then, a loud whistle passed through, rising twice, sharp and drawn out. In the confined space it almost hurt to hear, with both of them wincing as the sound filled their ears. 

 

As it finished, several whistles followed it, each consisting of what sounded like three smaller rises, each quick and almost equally sharp. The sounds seemed like they were coming from different spots, though the bouncing of the sounds off of the mine walls made it hard to pinpoint where from, and just how many there were. 

 

And then, as fast as they started, so they ended, the silence enveloping the mines once again. 

 

Morten felt his heart beating in his chest, his nerves on edge. What the fuck was that? Who the fuck was that? 

His grip on the revolver tightened. 

 

The two stayed still and silent, time passing by, with an occasional rock clicking somewhere in the distance setting their minds on edge.

Then...was he just imagining it, or were those footsteps? Barely audible, but still ...there...

 

"What is it Ian?" A female voice said, somewhere far away, yet close enough for the echo to be carried clearly to them. 

 

"I think I saw a light, up there." A male voice answered, the 'up there' probably meaning the place he and Blitz were. 

 

"Do you think, or are you sure?" A third voice, a male one, asked. 

"Could've just been your torch." 

 

"No no, I'm sure there was a light there, but it disappeared just as I moved closer." 

 

Another voice sounded, but it was too far away to make sense. 

 

"Well, we are supposed to go that way anyway. We'll check it out." 

 

Mortens teeth hurt from how hard he clenched them. 

Those whistles just clicked in his head. Who would be using whistles instead of a regular "Hey, over here?" 

 

Someone that didn't want others to know what they were saying. 

And one kind of folk stood out rather clearly in his mind. 

 

The kind that wanted to make all of those not with them not burden Mother Nature any longer. 

 

-0-

 

This felt dumb. 

 

Like, really dumb. 

 

Blitz knew he had to keep his eye shut so nothing was giving away their position, but it didn't make it feel any less dumb. 

 

The floor of the tunnel was hard and uneven. His knees hurt, and a small pebble somewhere under his chest pressed uncomfortably against his body. There was dampness on his palms as they lay stretched, one under his head, the other just a few inches away.

 

Who were those guys down there? There were at least four of them, but there was a high chance there was more. Were they a threat? 

 

"mort, plan?" Blitz asked as quietly as he could, his own voice sounding too loud even though it came out as little more than a whisper. 

 

"hide and get out." Mort responded just as silently. 

"the only way forward is through the other lower tunnel." 

 

Well great. Blitz didn't remember there being any other tunnel they could access, nor did he think going back out the way they came was a good idea either. The barking of the wolves was still far too fresh in his mind. 

Reminding him too much of his own daughter, whenever she was annoyed or lashing out.

 

Where was she now? Was she safe? Was she alright? 

 

You are gone for over a week Blitzo, what do you think?


-

Morten could hear faint footsteps moving. They came from the way of the chamber. In time, they would come to them too. 

He could probably kill one, two if he was lucky. Six shots in a closed space would make it easy. But anything after that didn't feel like a fight he or Blitz could, or would, win. Neither knew how many of them there were. 

They could go back the way they came. But that is the way the bastards intend to go anyway. It checked out, unless there was some other hidden way that they were referring to. 

Were they to go back, they would have to face the wolves, and the hike back to the house. 

 

Back where the others were. 

 

Were his friends safe back there? They had weapons and a defensible location, sure, but only Rudy knew of the threat of the...cultists, or whatever the fuck they were called. Bunch of mad bastards would be a better name anyway.

But would they be fast enough? To escape both the wolves and the bastards? He had no idea how to hide his trail. 

The other option was to try and make it to the coast, and reach the quonset, as was his initial idea. There was no telling how many more of them there were both in the mines and outside.

Still, it felt like trying to push forward was a much better option than turning back. 

All they needed was a distraction of some sort...

 

Just at that moment, by what seemed to be a stroke of good fortune or merely a coincidence, the ground, the walls, and everything around them started to shake. To Morten, it resembled the road rollers passing over settling asphalt, with his entire body feeling the rumbling from within. Bits and pieces of the ceiling seemed to give way, small pebbles and rocks dropping onto the floor, one piece narrowly missing Blitz's arm.

 

"Come on, now's our chance!" Morten yelled, the quaking of the mountain deafening his shout as he pulled Blitz by his backpack. 
A large boulder dropped down in front of them, smashing into the wooden structure as it did, sending splinters and shards of wood and rock everywhere. Dust filled the air as the two roused themselves to their feet, Morten frantically flicking the lantern on.

As the light sparked to life once again, the tunnel lit up, revealing the path forward had been reduced to a bunch of splintered wooden beams and rocks that would make for a...rocky descent to the bottom of the chamber. 

Breathing as deeply as he could, Morten moved forth, picking up as much speed as he could, intent on getting out of this mess alive, as fast as possible. 


Half sliding down the rubble, he jumped the last bit, his boots hitting the ground, the lantern shaking in his hand as the imp followed suit, narrowly avoiding him as his own two feet hit the ground, nearly giving out, but there was no time for that. Picking him under his arm, he steadied the imp as more rocks rolled across the whole shaking mine. 

Without no time to lose, they dashed into the left tunnel before they could be spotted, leaving behind a dust-filled chamber threatening to fall apart at any moment. 

Support beams buckled and metal screeched as the weight of the mountain moved down onto it, loose rocks tumbling to the ground as the tunnels seemed to move on their own around them. 

An opening further up revealed a smaller chamber with some metal cabinets and barrels, a storage area seemingly still in use. A fire flickered in one of the barrels, but there was no time to stop. 

"THAT WAY, GO!" 

The pair rushed through the room, voices barely audible behind them. 

"STAY DOWN, WATCH YOUR HEAD!" 

Whoever it was didn't matter now. All it mattered was getting the hell out of here! 

Passing by several rubble piles, they stopped for barely a moment as the ceiling dangerously lowered in front of them, the rocks and beams giving way to a giant boulder. 

Without a moment to spare, they dropped to their hands and knees, Morten almost smashing the lantern as they crawled under the opening, the shaking rattling their very bones as more rocks and stone joined them on the floor of the mine, the dusk filling their lungs and scratching at their eyes. 

Run, run, run, run, no turning back...

"THERE THERE, I SEE THE EXIT!" Blitz shouted, pointing in front of them, to a few green crates, lit up by natural light...

 

 

-

 

Their pace slowed down as they reached the exit, the rumbling around them growing quieter and weaker as well. If their luck held strong, there won't be a sudden cave-in right at the exit.

"Euughhh...fuck Mort..." Blitz coughed, wheezing as he rested his hands on his knees. 

 

Mort himself just barely managed to turn the lantern off before collapsing to the floor, panting like a dog. He could feel sweat pouring down his face, one bead rolling down the bridge of his nose right to the tip, before soundlessly dropping to the dusty floor below. Each breath didn't feel enough to fill his lungs, each movement, no matter how small, set his muscles on fire, making him wince as he struggled to gather himself. 

"Just...just a m-moment...gguhh..." 

Even if someone did see them, he didn't care at this moment. No one was getting to them quickly, or easily. 

Minutes passed as their bodies cooled from the sudden and violent burst of energy that they performed, their breaths steadily becoming more drawn out and shallower, returning to normal. 

Morten stood back up, wiping the dust and filth from his pants, elbows, and hands. 

 

"Grab whatever is on those crates, and let's get the fuck out of here." 

 


Slowly, the imp and man picked up the items and things on the crates. Flares, cleaning kits, a prybar. A can of soda, some cloth, a toolbox, a fuze of all things, and a note. 

 

Deciding he will read it later, Morten pocketed the piece of paper, storing it in his chest pocket as he opened the door leading out with the rattle of its chain links. 

 

To the coast.

Notes:

Good afternoon! I bring you a gift at the end of this weekend and hope that it finds you well.
What does the future hold for the imp and the human, now that they left Pleasant Valley behind them?

I wish you all the best, I thank you for staying with this story as long as you did. (We are closing slowly but surely to almost a yea...doesn't feel like it...)
I thank you all for the kudos and for the comments and for the bookmarks, and I hope that a thing that is in the works and that will hopefully soon be finished be a worthy reward for you (A commission)

Tell me what you think down below, and don't forget to join the HVC family over on Discord via this link here ;) -> https://discord.gg/CkUYqTKnFW

Be safe, be awesome, and be yourself <3

Chapter 33: Coastal Highway Contemplation

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-III-/-

-Coastal Highway- 3rd Day- Late Afternoon-

 

Returning to the Great Outdoors was blinding and cold, the whiteness of the snow and the biting of the wind a stark contrast to the darkness and the musty air of the mines. 

 

The crinkling of the snow under their boots melded with the creaking and shuffling of the tree branches standing over the passage that they walked through, retracing the steps Morten and Rudy took two days ago. Log barriers stood on both sides, placed there to prevent snow and rocks from sliding onto the path by miners or whoever else ages ago, held together by large metal screws, blackened by the passage of time.

 

 

 There were no footsteps to guide them, the path ahead covered in smooth, unevenly placed snow, guided into small heaps by the shifting wind.

 

"Who were those guys?" Blitz asked, tightening the scarf around his neck and the base of his horns. 

 

"By the sound of their whistling, probably a cult that did some shit around the island. We found one of their stashes inside a barn when we first came to the valley, but this is the first time I heard them, or came close to them." 

 

"What kind of cult? Some freaky shit?"

 

"Some kind of nature lovers I think. Anti-industry and stuff. Not harmless though. I think these guys kill. Or have killed." 

 

"Heh, hee, ha-ha-haaaa..." Blitz chuckled at first, then burst into a full on laughter, causing Morten to look at him with concern. 

 

"You're telling me,  *wheeze*, that you're afraid of a bunch of tree huggers and vegans and whatnot? Oh Morten, I think I'll have to think about drinking with you again buddy, ha ha ha..." 

 

Morten rolled his eyes, kicking a small stone in the passing. 

 

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm sure the whole island got up and left somewhere by itself then, yeh?"

 

"Left where? It seems to me like the island is firmly where it's at. Minus that bit in the mines just now"

 

"The people, Blitz. Where are all the people if these guys are just a buncha  tree huggers  and  vegans  and whatnot?" 

 

Blitz held his response a bit, causing Morten to continue.

 

"Thomson's Crossing was abandoned. So is the place we are heading to now. You and Stolas were the first people my group saw in over two weeks. Not everyone on the island could have just been wiped out by wolves and the cold."

 

The imp held his tongue at that, though the thoughts of ' scary ' hippies still got a chuckle to squeak in his throat. 

 

Although...he did make sense. A place like this would have people used to the cold and the animals. Then again, the humans he met before weren't exactly smart. Them or those higher above. 

 

Heh, stupid cherubs...

 

As they walked past a large boulder, a path to their right revealed itself, under a large fallen tree. There, some distance away, a bleak red tower stood against the backdrop of the blue sky. 

 

"Hey, what's that?" Blitz asked, pointing for Morten, who took a moment to turn and see. 

 

"Huh...looks like a fire watch tower. Guess we must've missed it when we were walking here the first time."

 

"We could check it out?" 

 

Morten nodded, continuing his walk, now about nineteen degrees to the right. 

 

"Yea, those places always have some good stuff in them. And it's a great viewpoint, obviously."

 

"Obviously."

---

 

The color was worn out in places, exposing the dull gray wood underneath the red layer. Stairs creaked and groaned as they walked up towards the top, sounding like they were about to snap at any moment under their weight. The wind increased in intensity the higher they walked, making them squint and tighten the scarves around their faces. 

 

 

Walking up to the top, they were met with a majestic view of the bay and the surrounding forest and mountains stretching on both sides. The loose clouds had escaped to the far horizon, looking almost like they were painted to stand against the distant mountains that stuck out of the sea, leaving the shining star high in the sky alone, its rays bringing a gentle warmth to their faces, despite the wind. 

It wasn't the first time Morten had seen those mountains, far away. But he didn't know if they were part of the Mainland or some other island close by. Not that it mattered. Even if they had a map to confirm what landmass it was, there was no way to get over there. The only thing sea-worthy were the wooden boats they came across while trekking the highway weeks ago, half buried in the snow. Those were far too small, far too fragile, to attempt crossing the open sea. Especially considering none of them were seamen. And the water was icy cold...

 

Blitz admired the view, resting his hands on the wooden railing, his chin on them. Sure there were plenty of sights in Hell of all sorts that he gawked at. Sprawling cities, hectic skylines chock full of neon signs and searchlights pointing up towards the pentagram that spread over the entire circle, reminding everyone and everything where they were at all times.

 

Here, the sky was of simple blue, with only the Sun still high above the land. A white land filled with trees, standing strong and straight even as the wind battered against their dark bark, their hulls creaking and groaning. 

 

After being in this cold and desolate place for little over a week, this was the first time Blitz could truly enjoy the beauty it held, the gnawing voices of worry quelled, quieter than usual. 

 

There was salt in the air, brought high from the frozen bay that seemed so beneath them. It would make for quite a sled ride from here to there...

 

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Morten said, leaning on the rail as well, catching a break after the walk. 

 

Blitz hummed a confirmation, his eyes slowly moving from one side of the bay to the other, silently appreciating the view. A small voice in his head whispered...

 

*I wish Stolas could see this...*

 

Was he thinking that? Or did he just imagine thinking that? Ugh, stupid brain...

-

 

After a few more moments of silence, the pair finally moved on from admiring the striking view. 

 

The door to the inside of the tower didn't move as Morten tried to open it. It was a strange thing, finding a locked door on this island. All the houses that they came across in the bay town were unlocked. Only a few car trunks and lockers needed some persuasion to open.

 

Luck was on their side, as the prybar they took from the mine came in handy with forcing their way in. With a bit of effort, the wood and the lock gave way to the length of metal and brute force.

They shuffled inside, escaping the wind that continued to whistle around the creaking structure, only to find the inside in disarray. 

 

 

An armchair turned over, cans and a bunch of other loose items spread across the dusty floor, scraps of paper and twigs in the corners and against the walls. 

 

"Hmm, what happened here?" Morten asked, tightening his grip on the prybar as his eyes went over the derelict interior.

 

"Whatever happened wasn't recent, look at the dust." Blitz pointed out. Indeed, the floor appeared to be evenly dusty across its whole length, with no footprints or sweeps indicating anyone has been here more recently. 

 

"Hmm...we best be careful still. If we found this place easily, so can anyone else passing by." Morten nodded, closing the door behind them, the broken lock now acting as a wedge at the bottom to stop the door from opening against the wind. 

 

"So no fire?" Blitz asked, taking his backpack off, stretching his shoulders with audible cracks, as well as his neck and fingers. 

 

"No fire sadly. We'll be able to light one if the weather turns, or when it's night. Assuming we stay there so long. Either way, we shouldn't freeze in here, fire or no fire." 

 

-

 

The pair had cleaned up the place what little they could, considering it mostly just took picking stuff off the ground, and either chucking it off the tower, like those weird lichen thingies which crumbled to the touch something nasty, with bits and pieces falling between the floorboards, or just setting it back up, like the overturned armchair.

 

Or rather, Morten cleaned the place up. Blitz had walked over to the bed, picked up an energy bar from the floor on his way there, and promptly fell asleep in under five minutes.

 

Taking a break himself, Morten figured he might as well check out the toolbox and the cleaning kits they nabbed from the mine. 

 

Both seemed to be kitted out with the basic cleaning stuff- Bore brushes, cleaning patches, small bottles of lubricant, point jag, brass rods, and some toothpicks. One, funnily enough, but not entirely unexpected, also had a toothbrush clearly not used for brushing teeth. 

 

Within the toolbox, he found some screws, bolts, nails both straight and bent, wires both insulated and skinned, some oily rags, and a few dearly needed tool pieces, most notably a screwdriver and a few pairs of differently-nosed pliers. With a smile, he nodded, for he had a way to clean the jam right in front of him. 

 

Deciding whether or not should he rest first, or clean the jam first, Morten found himself wishing that he had a coin on himself. Then again, he couldn't pick which side would determine what himself, and he didn't feel like waking up Blitzo would be a good idea. So he decided on the safer option and went to clear the jam now. That way, it wouldn't be just a crude club if something came up in a few hours. 

 

At that moment, Blitz twisted on the bed, quiet, disconnected mumbles escaping him as the blanket wrapped around him.

"Mnn...n-no...Fizz...fire...no..." 

 

Each word mumbled out sounded more and more serious and panicked, making Mort leave the things on the bench he made a table of, now fully paying attention to what the imp was going to say. 

 

A thought crossed his mind to try and calm him down somehow, but he quickly dismissed it, not wanting to risk him waking up and there being trouble. 

Though, that didn't mean he couldn't wake up on his own. 

 

He kept twisting on the bed some more, but after a piece of the blanket fell over his head and almost into his mouth, his voice became too quiet and muffled to be heard.

 

Silent, Mort leaned back into the armchair, scratching at his stubble. The hairs were growing steadily indeed. Some more time, and he might even have a full beard. 

 

Time...

 

Two weeks already. Now a third was passing. They were nearing a month on the island. And with the end nowhere in sight. How much longer will they keep going with this?

 

How long could they keep going even?

 

In theory, as long as they rationed their food, and kept themselves warm, they could survive here forever. 

 

But nothing lasts forever. And in a place like this, things seem to break down even faster. 

 

How much longer till the end? 

What would it even be like? Would one day all just go back to normal? Would the ice thaw, and would someone come and get them? Or was this it, the eternal winter, binding them in the ice and cold until they succumb?

 

*Bah, stupid dark thoughts. I sound like Rudy...*

 

---

 

The sun was setting behind the mountains, the sky filled with spread-out clouds, the farthest eastern reaches appearing nigh pitch-black, while there was still some brilliance emanating from the sinking star in the west.

 

Morten suddenly shook awake, having dozed off in the armchair, not noticing it. What was he thinking about? Where was he?

 

It took him a moment to get his bearings, rubbing his eyes and temples, hoping to rub the tiredness out of them. 

His mouth felt dry, and he felt an uncomfortable stickiness all around his head and neck. 

 

"Bah...stupid afternoon naps..." He muttered, continuing to sit in the armchair. 

 

Time kept on passing, not by the ticking of the clock, but by the constant drain of light inside the room, like a match slowly burning up and crumbling into ash, the flame sputtering out, and all that was left, was darkness. 

 

Blitz was still on the bed, wrapped up in sheets in such a way Morten couldn't tell where his head nor ass was. There were no more mutters.

 

With a groan, the man got up, stretching from his nap, wincing as the wound in his side opened up a bit from the movement. The revolver really had to fail in the worst moment, didn't it?

 

Now that darkness hid the sky, they were free to light a fire, as there would be no way to see the smoke in the air. And seeing how it was a small, almost fully enclosed potbelly stove, the chance for someone to see the light of the fire was minimal, the height of the tower adding to the sense of security and seclusion. In a way, hidden in plain sight. 

 

The matchstick scraped against the outer part of the tinder box, friction sparking its head into a small ball of flame, shining like a beacon in the falling darkness. With a steady hand, he brought it into the stove, where the flames caught onto the tinder that was spread into a neat little shape. 

Quickly the flames spread from the match, which was by then tossed inside onto the kindling, its wooden body blackening and twisting from the rising heat, the fire consuming it, steadily growing as Morten added sticks inside, slowly and carefully nurturing the fire as it enveloped the entire bottom of the stove until at last, it could burn brightly by itself. 

 

With his fingers uncomfortably toasty, he closed the door with a squeak, his view set onto the dancing flames.

 

Dancing, dancing, just like the sky two weeks ago...Dance of nature, dance of death, if left to burn on its own, left to consume as it pleases...

 

Maybe then, someone would notice them. Come save them, if they were to burn an entire forest down. 

 

No, no... there's no telling how the fire would spread. The island is forested from end to end. If they were to set ablaze an entire forest and make sure it burned properly, the entire island could burn down. It, and everyone... everything, on it. 

 

A manic idea. This was no place nor time for such thinking. 

 

With a sigh, Morten sat in front of the fire, its meal of sticks and logs cracking as it burned, like a beast gnawed on the wood with a toothy maw. 

 

He pulled out the scrap of paper he found on the floor hours ago. The thing was unevenly yellowed, one part being exposed to the sun, while the other remained in the shade. 

 

'The most violent storm always begins and ends in a whisper. I've left this place now because the last summer is coming. If you want to find me, I'm padding across shattered ice, to the arctic sunset. These lights shouldn't be in the sky. It's a dance I don't know. Somehow we must progress from this. In a different age we walked out of the hot sands of the old continent. Now we're here again. The Long Dark is coming. All these tools will become useless. Take a step. Walk because it's your destiny to make it out of here.'

 

Heh...like someone half-mad wrote this...and now, where are they? 

 

The paper wrinkled under the grip of his fingers. 

A tinge of fear gripped his heart, his jaw clenching as he bit on his lip.

 

*God...please do not let this winter be the end...*

 

-I-*-I-*-I-

- Coastal Highway- 4th Day- Early noon-

 

What was she doing here? 

 

Father...she was here for her father...

And yet, all that stretched before her was more snow. More rock. More trees. Despite it all, despite there being beauty, it felt...dead.

 

Octavia walked along the imp and the sin, following the train tracks half-covered in snow, passing through a half-collapsed tunnel, and then over another bridge going over another waterfall. Again the water mist caught on her clothes, and again she wiped it with her scarf and her gloves. 

 

The imp talked, but her mind was elsewhere. 

 

After all this time, she was again alone. Her father, missing. Her mother...probably at another party, cursing her dad under every breath. No, no, she would curse him out loud without any issue. 

 

After all, in her eyes, he is the one that wronged her. He slept with an imp. 

What did her mother do? Octavia didn't know, for she was distant, and sometimes, the owlet thought that maybe she even forgot they were related. 

 

What would bringing him back do even? Would he again tell her how she is his Starfire, his precious daughter, and promise again that he would never, ever, leave her? 

 

A wetness that had nothing to do with the waterfalls filled the corners of her eyes. 

 

She felt a large hand on her shoulder. Asmodeus, the Deadly Sin of Lust, looked down at her with a sad gaze. 

 

"Octavia...child, what has caused such sadness?" He asked in a quiet, deep voice that only she could hear.

 

She looked at those big green eyes, deep with age that went far beyond hers, far beyond anyone else she knew. 

What has caused such sadness? 

What hasn't? 

 

Octavia kept looking up at him, unable to find the words. Where...what to even say? 


Asmodeus blinked at her, nodding at her silence as an answer to his question. With a pat, he let go of her arm, his gaze moving from her to some faraway point behind her.

"It's alright. You need not answer that now. There will be plenty of time. But whatever it is, do not let it consume you, young one. Take it from me. No matter how things might seem now, how sad or...angry they might make you, you need to keep a clear head. For your sake."

His view shifted back to her. With a gulp, she nodded, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, blinking them away.

 

Without any more words, they continued after the small imp slogging through the snow, revolver in hand. His own thoughts weren't any better than their own, but he didn't voice them, or let them show. Or at least, did his best to do so. Some of the tremors passing through him had nothing to do with the gripping cold.

 

In silence, they continued their path, no other way but forward. 

Notes:

The commission number one...is complete! Drawn by the one and only Setomie, who's Twitter you can find here- https://twitter.com/SETOMIE?s=20
As for where you can find the new picture...Chapter 12 ;)
I hope you enjoy it, and that you liked the chapter.

I love you all, and wish you all the best. Thank you all, for everything. <3

Chapter 34: The Quonset and the Farmstead

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-III-/-

-Coastal Highway- 4th Day- Early morning-

 

Blitz had something in his nose. Each time he tried to breathe through it, something was blocking the nostrils, every time he tried to exhale, something was blocking the nostrils. It got so bad that it made him breathe through his mouth, only to find them blocked as well.

 

After almost choking himself in a state of half-sleep, he finally woke up, tangled up in a blanket that enveloped him like a fuzzy snake. It covered all of him, his feet, his legs, his body, his face...The world was nothing more than a dimly lit space between his eyelids and the thick fabric barely letting any light through the pattern. The air seemed to stick to his skin, hot and heavy. Too heavy. He needed some...some fresh air...

 

Uncovering the blanket, he was greeted by the ice-cold air that hung in the room, the sudden change of temperature causing him to cringe, and his eye to grow incredibly dry, forcing out an instinctual squint.

 

Without thinking, he reached to rub at his eyes. As soon as he did so, his fingers touched the bandages on the left side of his face, and a sharp pain passed through his face. 

 

"Arrgh!" 

 

Fuck...he forgot about the bandage. Now the wound pulsated beneath it, hurting with each heartbeat that sent blood up to his head.  

 

"Ffffuck...stupid fucking...ugh."

 

He sat like that for several moments, letting the pain be washed away as the wounded flesh and organ recovered from the touch. 

 

The room was quiet, save for his own breathing. Nothing else moved as he looked around it.

No wait, something did move, but barely. 

 

Morten was slumped on the floor in front of the extinguished stove, his midsection rising up and down with each breath, but not by much. It took Blitz a good few moments of looking at him to make sure he indeed was moving, and that his eye wasn't deceiving him.

 

Okay, so...fire must've gone out during the night? What time was it now? 

From a glance out the window, he figured it must have been very early morning, the sun barely over the highest mountains to the east.

 

 

As he watched outside, his stomach made himself known with a rumble, making him wince at the emptiness that demanded to be filled. Seems that that Zap energy bar didn't sate him quite enough. 

 

But as much as he wanted to eat, he just as much didn't want to get out of the warmth of the bed, the blanket holding the warmth close to his body, nothing like the chill on his face. 

 

"Mmm...come... here..." 

 

He reached for his backpack, the damn thing placed at the end of the bed, so close, yet so far. However, not so far for his...third hand. Or was it his third leg? Eh, depends on the situation anyway.

 

Though still ailing, his tail was still relatively useable, whenever it wasn't stuck inside of his pants to keep it from falling off due to the cold. Now, despite the cold air, he needed his appendage for a very important task of reaching the backpack.

 

---

 

The rustling of plastic woke Morten up from sleep. First thing that became apparent was that a lot of things hurt.

 

Barely managing to squint open his eyes, he was met with a horizontal sight of the floor and the armchair a bit away from him. The floorboards seemed to reach all the way up to his...face...

 

Ugh, he passed out on the floor?

Well, that explains why half of his body ached like he was sleeping on a solid surface. In this case, it was the floor. Not an entirely unfamiliar feeling.

 

It took a bit for his body to wake up. It was as if his limbs didn't want to move out of their position. His entire right side felt numb from the planks, and his mouth felt dry.

 

Blitz, meanwhile, was eating beef jerky out of a plastic bag, stuffing entire pieces in his mouth and then chewing for what seemed like minutes on end, before swallowing it down with water. 

 

"Ugh...good morning." Morten said, rubbing his shoulder as he moved to stand up, stretching out so his bones cracked and creaked. Yeah, he really should try not to repeat that.

 

"Mmhmm" Blitz responded, giving a half nod as he kept looking into some faraway point.

 

Minutes passed in relative silence as Morten went to sit in the armchair, pulling his breakfast out of his backpack. Breakfast only in name really, considering it consisted of a can of orange juice, thankfully cold, and a few granola bars with the consistency of granulated sand, and taste that definitely lived up to the 'Fat Free' written on the wrapping. What, was it sugar-free as well? Despite it, it was the fastest option on hand, considering other options were that of canned pork and beans, 

 

As his jaw became numb from the chewing, he imagined before himself a nice venison stew, like he and the boys had before the whole Aurora thing. The sweet smell of onions and potatoes all together in a pot bubbling on the stove and that dash of wine added together into the mix to spice the whole dish up. And the meat melting in his mouth...

He could almost taste it.

 

Goddamit, once they get to the quonset, he's making something worthy of being called lunch. Not something wrapped in thin plastic tasting of slightly moist cardboard.

 

"You ready to go?" He asked, tucking away the plastic wrappers into the now empty can.

 

"Mmh." Blitz didn't really sound like it, but he did start to move from his place on the bed. His eye seemed glazed over. But it might have been just Mortens imagination. 

 

"Slept well?" 

 

"Mmh..." 

 

"Bad dreams?" 

 

"Fuck off." 

 

"Right..." 

 

Well, good to know he's not a morning person. Then again, no one would be a morning person with such an excuse for a breakfast. 

 

They packed up fairly quickly, considering there wasn't much to put back into the backpacks anyway. The rifle was still jammed sadly. Once they are at the quonset, it will be done, yes.

 

Stepping outside, they were greeted by the flowing wind sinking its teeth into the exposed skin, prompting shivers and chattering of teeth as the duo pulled their scarfs up, tightening them around their necks and across their mouths and noses. Everywhere around them, the trees swayed, their branches creaking and groaning, occasionally followed by a snap as weakened twigs succumbed under the constant wind.

 

They didn't stay to admire the view for long this time. With hurried steps they made their way down, boots quickly stepping over snow once again, almost perfectly following the footprints from yesterday.

 

With the tower behind them, the duo continued forth through the same passage lined by wooden barriers, onwards toward the town down at the coast. After a short while, the wooden barriers ended, replaced by boulders and snow drifts.

 

 

 "What's the plan when we get down to your...what was it? Konset?"

 

"Quonset. The plan is to fix the rifle, fix ourselves up a bit, and then see about getting back. There are supplies there we can take back with us, though I'm not sure if we even can get back the same way."

 

"Well what about the way your two guys came through?" 

 

"I don't know where that is. Wait, how did you two get to the house in the first place? Don't think you ever talked about it?"

 

Blitz groaned at the question. Having to be reminded of the previous week was not a pleasant experience in the slightest. The wolves, the cold, so much time spent holed up in one place without any way to get out...fuck that pass.

 

"We got atop an overlook above some small town while the Aurora was going on. Stolas lost his powers, we both freaked out, went down a path to the town to see if I could get any wifi on my phone. Phone died, we ended up staying in one of the few houses not burnt down or nailed shut." 

 

"That was somewhere outside the valley right?"

 

"Yeah, went through a tunnel and then ended up getting stuck inside a trailer for days because of the wolves and a storm. All the while Stolas tried to get his powers to work again but zilch. Nothing." 

 

"And you?"

 

"And me?" 

 

"Did you lose your powers too?"

 

Blitz laughed at the question, a cloud of steam bigger than usual escaping him as he did.

 

"Hah! Pal the only power imps have is being agile and being able to bite dicks off. And I only lost half of one here. For now."

 

"Uh...huh...So you guys don't have powers like uh...Goetia, right?"

 

"Yup. No powers, no problems, ha!" 

 

"Right...so which way did you come from to the house?"

 

"Opposite of the way you and I went on the road." 

 

"Hm. Would that town be worth checking out?"

 

"Doubt it. Stuff's been all ransacked and burnt like the exorcists

 went through it. No corpses though, usually they leave plenty behind them." 

 

"Exorcists?"

 

"Yeah, mean bastards. Come around once a year to do some cleanup around Lucy's ring. Dunno why they do it though."

 

"Sounds dangerous."

 

"It is if you're one of the sinners and can't get the fuck out of the place."

 

Just as Morten was about to ask what he meant by that, a flock of crows passing overhead got his attention. Four of them, in formation, flying towards the rough location of the town Blitz and he were heading to.

They reached a semicircular bend of the way, which began to head down in an easy descent, one that wouldn't be too steep for feet or tires alike.

 

As they came to the bend itself, so did a sight above the trees show, of the icy bay to which they were headed. And so they did, next to each other, with hands cupped and breaths short, each step in the snow covering their boots up to their ankles. 

 

 

"So, about the sinners..."

 

"Stuck in Pride without a way out. A bunch of them gets killed off with each extermination." 

 

"Uh...huh...and the other rings?"

 

"What about them?"

 

"What other rings are there?"

 

"Deadly Sins Mort, basics. I'm sure you can name them all." 

 

Mort rolled his eyes but didn't answer, instead tugging on the end of his jacket as they walked on. 

 

Deadly Sins...how many were there again? Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Greed...Anger? Wasn't there one about laziness too?

 

Before his mind could wander any longer, they came across a gentle enough slope running off the passage that they could go down it.

 

 

"Here, we can go down the slope. It'll save us some time. Watch your step, don't want to twist your ankles."

-

 

"Huh, this place looks a bit...woodier than I remember." 

 

"What, are we lost?" 

 

"No no, it's just that I don't remember those oaks always being there. Then again, I might have just forgotten about it."

 

 

Blitz rolled his eyes, scoffing at the answer. What kind of word even is 'woodier'? Ugh, the cold was probably making both of them think and say stupid things, brrr...

 

They continued, neither opening their mouth for talking, until...

 

 

"Hey, what about that building?" 

 

"Oh, that trailer? We stripped it of everything valuable days ago. Took the mattresses and broke down the furniture for wood. Made the quonset a comfy place for ourselves, if you don't mind the smell."

 

Morten felt Blitz's singular eye gazing at him, not even having to ask. 

 

"Deer. Skins and meat leave a very heavy smell, especially considering the skins have to dry indoors." 

 

"Uh-huh..." 

 

"Eh, don't worry about it, we'll crack a window open and cook us a proper meal, that should make everything bearable."

 

Blitz only nodded at that, imagining a proper meal in his head, a hum forming in his throat. He hadn't had something truly proper since those few strips of bacon yesterday morning. Compared to them, the beef jerky he's been munching in bed today felt like heavily salted leather soles of old shoes. Bleh.

 

Without paying attention to the trailer anymore, they continued down an easy descent, at the end of which there seemed to have been a sign, and further yet something that resembled exposed asphalt. They were close now.

 

 

Interesting how Hell seemed to be organized. Of course, no one knew for sure how, or even if, that place existed, but considering Morten was walking side by side with a living, breathing imp that seemed like no figment of his imagination, he figured that the rings were indeed the way it was.

 

Wonder how close did Dante write it? Probably nowhere near the real thing, heh.

 

*Let's just hope my experience with Hell itself remains second-hand, as interesting as Blitz and Stolas are.*

 

As the sun rose higher up in the sky, so did the morning chill seemed to let up a bit, its bright rays lighting up their faces and shining across the snow surrounding them. The wind too seemed to have stopped some, or it might just be blowing higher up, and they walked low enough to escape it.

 

It looked to be a pretty nice day...But why did Mort feel that same, bad tugging in his stomach? 

 

Oh right, the 'breakfast'.

 

-

 

*Hmm, was that car always red?*

 

 

They finally made it to the garage, indeed a sight for sore eyes and barely filled bellies.

 

During the previous two weeks, it had been transformed from an empty gas stop into a comfortable little home for the five men, although they had only ever all spent time together here once. 

 

They had moved the snow to cover all of the walls surrounding the building to better insulate it and boarded up the larger windows for better protection. There were two regular and one garage door, and Morten and Rudy had blocked the regular ones from inside before leaving the place four days ago. By moving some snow and planks, Blitz and Mort had revealed the hidden lock of the garage door, hidden in plain sight under the pile of snow.


Morten pulled the garage door up, and a heavy smell of curing hides and innards washed over them, wrinkling their nostrils. It had spread throughout the building but thankfully had not seeped outside, otherwise the place would probably be crawling with wolves trying to find a way inside. They talked about having the skins and guts cured and then stored in one of the houses around the garage, but they showed to be in too bad a state, with hidden holes letting in air and the cold. It was easier to simply keep them all in the garage instead, even if they had to put up with the smell a bit. 

"Welcome to our humble abode. Make yourself comfortable, we'll be here a while." Morten talked as he closed the doors behind them, making sure to pull some pallets around the lock as well. 

Blitz took his backpack off and sighed in relief as he put it against the leg of a nearby table, on which different little bits and pieces of different materials were strewn about, along with a large, dull red toolbox with several drawers on its front. 

 The garage itself seemed full of firewood and broken down pieces of furniture, from crates and chairs to an old table or two. 
Up above it all, close to the ceiling, deer skins were placed in a neat row, with a fair amount of space between each skin. The air felt heavy and somewhat stale, and ironically Blitz wished for some fresh air, like how much of it was outside.

"Ugh, I think it's worse than I remember, bleh. Might have to move them all to the toilet and air the place out." He heard Morten talking behind him.

As luck would have it, the room at the back of the garage was separated by a metal wall with glass panels at the top, and a sturdy door that didn't seem to let any smells through.

 

Inside the room, there were large piles of sheeted mattresses close to each other, with plenty of pillows and blankets stacked in neat piles, looking like a perfect setup for a pillow fort. Several metal lockers and two metal shelves were pushed to the far side of the room, and filled with stuff of all sorts, jars, bags, and small boxes and plastic cases holding food, spices, and other items that had no place in the garage.

The potbelly stove close to the window had two stools in front of it, and it seemed they took care to give the thing its own space away from the mattresses and the shelves. A pipe led from it and up to the hole in the window where glass was before, with a makeshift cover now covering the space around the pipe instead.

The wall opposite the one separating the room and the garage had several posters on it, one of which showed what Blitz assumed to be the region they were in right now.

 


It looked neat, but those fish kinda weirded him out. Too much in the way. Or maybe it just felt like that because he was looking at it with just one eye.

It was at the back of his mind almost since he woke up and touched the bandages. Having to turn more to the left to see the same things he usually saw without having to move his head at all was something he still wasn't used to, and a small part of him hoped he wouldn't have to get used to it either. He very much liked himself with both eyes intact, thank you.

 

Considering how nothing you touch is intact, perhaps this is how things should be...

 

"Right, ready for an actual meal?" Morten asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was now out of his jacket, with his head, neck, and hands bare. It was decent enough inside, and Blitz too found himself taking off some of his clothes, tossing them to the mattresses. 


He sat on the mattresses himself as he watched Morten prepare all the things he planned to use. A cutting board, a knife, two spoons, a large, charred pot, and several different plastic containers, jars, and cans, all sorted out on the repurposed office table. The computer that had been there weeks prior had mysteriously vanished.

Rolling up his sleeves, Morten looked over to Blitz. 

"Wanna start the fire?" 

Looking from him to the stove, the imp shrugged his shoulders. Ah, why not. It's not like he has anything better to do.

 

-

 

Morten didn't expect it, but Blitz proved to be a decent enough cook. Or at least, decent enough in chopping vegetables. 

They took some of the potatoes and venison out of the plastic containers, and cut them into appropriate pieces, adding some salt to the meat, and preparing some flour and oil to the side for the gravy. A fire was lit in the stove, and the pot was already on it, the water slowly warming up while they worked. The air was filled with the sound of chopping knives and crackling fire, and if he didn't look at his companion, Morten could almost imagine himself being with his friends again. 

Three of them, he trusted were safe. 

 

But Guy...where was their faithful companion now?

 

-*-*-*-
-???-???-

There was darkness. Everything around him felt fuzzy, warm, and muted. Where was he? Wherever it was, it was better than outside. 

The last thing he remembered...leaning against a trailer, cold enveloping him in a merciless grip...and then, walking somewhere, away from the wind, into a warm place...
And then, a blackout. And just like no time has passed, he was awake again. 

Somewhere nearby, clinking of bottles sounded. 
And...this blanket...why did its smell remind him of someone?

 

His prostheses felt heavy, but they were still there, all four of them. That was good. It gave him some hope that wherever he was, he was safe. Even if he was with humans that feared him. They still didn't kill him, or hurt him. Yet.

He had to get himself together, up, and out of here. Because...because...
Ozzie, right. He had to get back to Ozzie.

 

"Rudy, where are you going?" A  very  familiar voice asked somewhere close. 

 

"Just...going up to check on those two." Another voice said, sounding almost hesitant. 

 

"And the one in the living room?" Again the familiar voice asked. 

 

"What about it?"

 

"Are you going to check up on the jester favorite of Asmodeus himself?" The words felt somewhat slurred, like suddenly the voice had trouble with speaking.

 

"Stolas, are you drunk?" 

 

"Mnoo, just had a...one drink."

 

"That's a whole bottle, jeez."

 

STOLAS?! He knew that name. The prince...the prince that was at the club with...Blitzo...

 

The blanket that covered him suddenly smelled rank, like a stink bug was crushed in it. 

 

As fast as he could, he tossed the damned thing off of himself and onto the floor.

 

Was he here too!? 

 

"What was that?" The other voice...Rudy, sounded alerted. 

 

"Must be the jest..." Stolas started talking but his words quickly lost their meaning as they turned into a mushy ramble, followed by dragging of glass against wood. 

 

"Bah. Hey, whoever you are, stop right now!" Rudy now shouted, and Fizz could hear boots thumping against the floor, the sound coming closer and closer until...

 

A man appeared at the entrance to the room, sporting an angry look on his face covered by a short, reddish-orange beard.

 

His eyes locked with that of the jester, and almost immediately anger turned to shock as he straightened out, taken aback. 

 

"No...not another one..." 

 

Notes:

How did you like the chapter? Were the descriptions understandable? I hope that it all brought you more positive than negative feelings.

Very good overall changes happened during my vacation, though I am not so sure that I will be finishing the story this year. That was the initial plan when I started writing it...coming close to a year in a few months, jeez. Still, no matter how much time it takes, I won't drop the story and will see it to its end.

I thank you all for your kindness and support, and I wish you all the good in life <3
*In other news, guess who got both the Pacifist and Silent Hunter achievements...oh yeah, this guy ;)

Chapter 35: The talk, the fix, and a test

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-*-//-III-//-*-

-Pleasant Valley homestead- 3rd Day- Late Afternoon-

 

Fizz felt a leaden ball form in his gut as the words sank in. Another one? So he was here, wherever here was? 

 

Mammons fucking ass! Could this trip get any worse!?

 

The man kept staring at him, a look of fear and disgust on his face as he balled his hands. He was speaking something to himself, his lips barely moving, the noises quiet but still noticeable. Fizz decided it would be wise to make some more distance between them. And his limbs happily obliged, silently whirring as he moved fully to the other side of the couch he was on.

 

-

 

"Ah, why are you acting so? It's not your first time seeing an imp Rudy." 

 

To say that Stolas was drinking would be quite appropriate for the demon prince. 

 

He had turned to gulping down glass after glass of the hard liquor, deciding to forego the extra pouring at one point to simply chugging from the bottle itself. After all, what else was he supposed to do in a place with no TV, internet, or anyone to talk to? Both Blitz and Morten were so far away, and everyone else in the house was either sleeping or against him. 

 

It wasn't exactly subtle, but since morning, Rudy had seemed distant and unapproachable, not wanting to talk or stay in the same room as the prince. 

 

And to think it was only what, several hours since those two left? Things sure seemed to drag slowly when there was no good company around. 

 

But now that the imp was awake, there was a chance for something interesting. 

Walking over to the man, he peeked in the living room, his four eyes catching sight of Fizzarolli as he reached the far side of the couch, his 

eyes now focused on the prince, fearful and confused. 

 

"Look, he's all scared because of you." 

 

"Bah, like I'd want to touch it anyway. Leave me be, and don't come upstairs." 

 

Well that was rude. Just as Rudy turned to walk away, Stolas looked back at him.

 

"What have we...I even done to you? You're so angry for no reason!" 

 

Rudy stopped, turning his look back at the prince, his blue eyes the exact opposite of Stolas' own. A hard frown creased his brow, his fists balled. He eyed the prince in silence, his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched it, still looking Stolas in the eye. 

 

Finally, he exhaled, his nostrils flaring. 

 

"You're from Hell. You're royalty. Neither works in your favor. I don't trust you. Because a good friend warned me not to." 

 

"Bah, and if he told you to jump off a cliff, would you do that too?" 

 

"If it made sense. Warning me of Hell did." Rudy said, lying. When Guy said it, he dismissed it as just another nag from his friend. After all, he believed in no gods of any sort. Until he met the hellish duo and spent the night drinking with them. Now, Guy's words sounded much more convincing. 

 

"Whoever this friend of yours is, I don't think he knows me as much as I do." 

 

"I don't know you either. One drunken night doesn't change that. Stay away from me Stolas, and from my friends." Without giving Stolas another chance, he stormed up the stairs, out of sight. 

-

 

Fizz watched as the human walked away from the Goetian prince without looking back like he was talking to some low-born imp like himself, without fear of getting mauled and mutilated in ten different ways. A Goetian prince dressed nothing like royalty, but rather in clothes that seemed mismatched and picked out at random. 

 

The prince watched as the boots of the man disappeared out of sight, and held his gaze at the spot for some more time in silence, unmoving.

 

What was going on here? A Goetian prince, the same one that brought  that   fucking idiot  into the House of Asmodeus, getting talked down by an angry human, while sounding and looking like he's been drinking for the past few hours.  

 

A heavy sigh escaped the prince, and he turned around to look again at him, his two pairs of ruby-red eyes seeming like they would pop out of his head at any moment.

 

"Fizz was it?" The prince asked, drawing on the 'zz' like only a drunk would. He moved to lean onto the doorframe for support, head resting on wood as he watched him. 

 

Fizz only nodded, not letting his eyes off of the prince as unease gnawed at him, moving from his chest up to his throat, like a rash on the inside of his body. 

 

"Of course it's you. You're not exactly similar to any other imp." He continued, pronouncing the last word with a pop on the last letter.

"Neither in looks or company or current place of...existence..." 

 Stolas moved away from the doorframe, unsteadily walking towards the sofa, until he was leaning down on the back of it, almost lying down on it. Smell of alcohol spread from his mouth as he opened it. 

 

"Tell me, Fizz, what are you doing here, instead of being elsewhere with Asmodeus?"

 

Fizz kept his eyes on the prince, the four red rubies without a blemish or a pupil. Was he supposed to answer that question? 

Well, if he had to, he'd do it his way. 

 

"Now hold on a moment, Stolas. Why should I tell you anything, when no one is telling me anything?" He started, putting all his effort into the persona of Fizzarolli the Performer, not Fizzarolli the Confused. 

 

Before Stolas could say anything, Fizz continued.

"I wake up in some crusty creaking sham of an unheated shack, without even the common decency of where and how, and the first thing I get to look at is some ugly sinner-in-making, and then YOU get all up in my face asking ME why I'm here? C-c-c, Stolas that won't do! Your Royal Highness surely knows better than... that..." 

 

He talked and talked without stopping, while his arms and legs got a move on, getting up from the couch and stretching out, using his rambling to walk and look around.

 

To say the place was a dump would be a bit too much, but it was certainly on a steady course to be one. The wallpaper was worn out and sticking in some places, the furniture looked old, along with it all being wooden, the floor creaked under each step, and the view out the window...

 

Fizz looked through the musty, grimy glass out into the vast space before him, a field of leafless trees spread in a uniform space. Far behind them, a forest stood on a small incline, with darkness under the tall canopies. Just above the highest crowns of snow-laden pine trees, far away mountains stretched in both directions, their tops disappearing in clouds dropping snowflakes from the sky. 

 

The scene looked...pleasant. Not exactly his type, but it was still pleasant to look at. For a moment, his words quieted down as he looked around through the bay windows, nothing looking familiar.

But, something else familiar did come up.

A groan of his empty stomach. Ugh, when did he eat last time?

 

"Hmm, tell you what your high-knees. How about we make a deal?"

 

-I-*-I-*-I-
- Coastal Highway- 4th Day- Early noon-

 

 

A muffled bang rang out from the house on their right, along with a sudden flash coming from the left window. All three of them noticed it, though it was Moxxie who reacted first. 

 

"Heads down! Uh, please?" 

 

The trio had walked a great distance from the train tunnels, down sloped paths to what they assumed was the coastal highway, a great winding road following along the coastline of the ice-covered bay. They came down in front of a large log sort, the piles of dark wood lying partially submerged in the frozen shallow, the smell of salt, pine, and snow filling their nostrils. 

 

Any building they came across was either heavily nailed shut, or burned so that only charred outside walls and snow-covered foundations remained, buried under a pile of burned materials. Octavia thought whether or not it was done by the cultists, or a mere accident. 

 

They also passed by a small, ominous-looking wooden structure that protruded out of large black rocks. Both because it gave off an uneasy feeling, like a 'Go here if you really want to die' kind of feeling, and because it was in no way the quonset Guy said they should head to, they avoided even stopping to look at it. 

 

Despite that, there were still some sights to enjoy, most notably on the opposite side of the road, to their right. The faraway mountains, the clouds that almost seemed like a water-coloured painting, and the large openness of it all made for a soothing view, despite the cold and their current situation. 

 


And now, the moment some semblance of civilized place cropped up, the first thing that greets them is a shot. 


Asmodeus pushed Octavia and the sled from the road and behind a small snow-covered hill, he himself moving in front of her, looking at the house with angry eyes. With care, he opened his mental antennae, searching for any sort of feelings nearby. There was Octavia and the imp, but what came from the house? No aggression, no fear, but something similar to content, bordering satisfaction? 

Moxxie jumped behind a nearby mound of snow, ignoring the cold that bit at his back and neck as he cocked the revolver, holding his gaze at the same house the gunshot and the flash came from. But wait...why are all the windows intact and closed? Wouldn't one be opened, or with an obvious hole in it? 

 

Something wasn't right.


Tense, the trio waited in silence for something to happen. Moxxie looked around, noticing a rather distinct rounded shape in the distance, that of a quonset covered in snow. That could have been the place they were after. 

But then, who was shooting?

 

Just then, a shadow moved inside the house, barely visible. Moxxie aimed his revolver at the house, the iron sights lined up at the window most to the left. 

 

-/-III-/-
-Coastal Highway- 4th Day- Early noon-

 

 

The stew? Succulent. Beautiful. A proper and fulfilling meal that could indeed be called that, with nothing but proper ingredients used in its creation. Morten was happy, and by how thoroughly he cleaned his plate, Blitz was happy as well. Happy and silently napping on the bed, the blankets and pillows combined with a full stomach pulling him to sleep, warm and comfy. He looked content and peaceful as he slept, even with the bandage covering half his face.

Morten, meanwhile, finally got to fix that damned rifle. With a proper table and tools at his disposal, it took him less than ten minutes or so to get it back into working condition, though the easiest way to tell for sure would be to fire it and hope it didn't explode in his face. While he went over the entirety of the firearm, making sure the barrel was clean and that there was nothing else out of the ordinary, the possibility remained.

Fire it he could, but not inside. Maybe there was something worth shooting outside? It was a bit since he shot a rifle. 
But a shot would be heard across the entire region. And those people in the mines...there was no telling whether or not they were out there, listening, looking, for something to track. 

But...would it be noticed? If he were to fire it somewhere else, maybe inside one of the other houses? There were plenty of things to cover his ears with, bits of cloth, plastic, whatever he wished to stick in. 
If he was to leave it to just hope, it would betray him. If he tested it, he could be certain that it was capable of firing. 

Tapping his finger against the desk, his eyes moving about the wall, he sighed and craned his head back. 

"So be it. Let's go see if you work."
Grabbing the rifle off the work table, Morten walked out of the garage.


-


Coming back outside wasn't exactly nice, seeing as the merciless cold wrapped around him the instant he pulled the garage door up, the warmth quickly draining from his face and fingers. But he would be outside only for a few moments anyway. 

Walking across the snow-covered road, he looked both ways, a force of habit of crossing the street so many times in his life, not always on a green light. 

He was here only a few days ago, dragging a dead deer back to the garage. He could even see the faintest of traces where it happened, the small irregularities in the snow indicating where his boot stepped, and where the deer was dragged. Not so long ago, things seemed much more normal, despite their whole situation then. 

The trees creaked as he vaulted over the road barrier, boots sinking into the snow covering the small hill separating him from the houses close to the frozen shore. Like most houses here, they would be a perfect place to live, if things were normal still. And if living on Great Bear was worth it. The lack of finer things in life didn't work in its favor. 

 

 

With a creak, he opened the back door of the house, entering the kitchen devoid of almost everything even slightly useful, save for the fried toaster, and some cracked plates left on the counter. There was a loose curtain hanging on the window, perfectly placed for him. 

He tore up some of the cloth, the sound of ripping filling the air as dust jumped out of the material getting torn apart. Using the knife, he cut the cloth into two smaller strips, rolling them up into makeshift earplugs. Firing outside was heavy enough on his ears, and firing in such a small space could leave him deaf for the better part of the day. 

With his ears safely muffled, full of somewhat dusty cloth, he could finally test the rifle. But on what? 

After walking around the small house, he found himself a good enough spot- The bedroom and the bathroom. An empty grape soda can would serve as a target, placed on a toilet cistern, while he would fire from the bedroom, moving the bed out of the way so he could stand with his back to the wall.

 

 

Or should he shoot the rifle with the barrel in the bathroom, and him in the bedroom? Well, that would give a bit more safety to his hearing. Yeah, that would be a much safer thing to do. Probably. 

Placing his arm on the wall, he rested the rifle between the doorframe and his arm, making it unmoving and steady, with no sway or drop as he aimed at the middle of the can. He hoped he had enough cloth in his ears.

 

He pressed the trigger.


The flash akin to a lightning bolt appeared for a split second, illuminating the entire room behind his closed eyelids. His arms and shoulders twitched against the recoil, the butt of the rifle pressing itself against his shoulder pocket.
The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils as he inhaled, and there was a low buzz in his ears as he pulled the bolt back, a spent cartridge jumping out and landing on the floor with a metallic clink.  

The can was properly demolished, lying on the bathroom floor, sporting two large holes in its body. The wall behind it had a rather noticeable black dent in it, with a hint of smoke coming out of it, quickly put out by Morten, albeit with a bit too much heat for his fingers. Still, better a bit of warmth on his fingers than the whole place burning down.

 

"Nice, a working rifle, just for me. Hah." 

 

What was next then, after this? Well, judging by the quiet outside, there was nothing to worry about. Yet. The best thing now would be to go back to the garage and rest up, take a celebratory nap. 

 

 

Notes:

Hey there uh...good looking. Got another chapter, what did you think?

Speaking of thinking, we got the new and improved title card of the story! Drawn by the one and only Charlotte, it shows most of the cast of characters we came to know and tolerate. Who is who of the Mystery Lake Five? I know ScaryDrPepper already knows XD

Oh, and of course, the newest episode of Helluva Boss itself! Personally? Perfect. It was perfect. Can't find one bad thing about it.
Will it impact the story? Well, not really, due to the fact the story takes place after Episode 1 of Season 2, so everything after that episode didn't really happen here (So sadly Fizz and Blitz didn't make up, nor did Striker take up a contract with Crim. Nor did they meet Crim for that matter. Yet.)
Its also due to the fact the Fizz and Ozzie of this here story come from House of Asmodeus, a story written by one Bramblerose, who some of you might know. So ya, differences :D

Hey, I want to thank you all for...just everything. Not gonna lie, life is a bit sucky wucky and tough, but damn does this story bring me something to look up to, in all ways.
Take care, and stay awesome <3

P.S We hit 1 year anniversary three days ago. Time flies indeed, woof.

Chapter 36: Events, good, bad and neutral

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-/-I-*-III-*-I-/-

-Coastal Highway- 4th Day- Early noon-  

 

Blitz was warm and comfy. He couldn't really discern where, as the shapes shifted and changed in the dim light that seemed to be all around him. He was lying with his back against something soft, and everything was alright. That's what everything was telling him. It was all right. He didn't question what this everything was. He was feeling all right, and that was all that mattered. 

 

Was it seconds, minutes, or hours, he couldn't tell. But at some point, the previously pleasant warmth started to become...warmer. Hotter. The previously dim light began to stir and glow brighter, a poisonous green hue settling in as a scream tore the silence of his dreams. 

 

"BLITZO!!! HELP ME!!!" 

 

He turned around, and he saw him there, pinned beneath a flaming support beam. 

Almost like a brother to him, almost a lover to him. 

 

Fizz, screaming, a pained and scared look on his face, his eyes full of terror and tears as he stared at him, reaching with his only free hand for him, begging for help. His horns broken, his entire body burning, his look piercing through him like a poison arrow.

 

Blitz tried to say something, but his mouth would open without a sound, no matter how hard he tried to push something, anything, through. 

He couldn't move, couldn't look away, as Fizz's face contorted in a hellish scream, melting as the flames overtook his entire vision...

 

-

 

Loud banging snapped him out of the nightmare, the frenzied flames replaced by the dark interior of a garage smelling of a recently cooked meal. 

 

"BLITZ! Open the door! The damn thing is stuck!" 

 

-

 

"BLITZ! Come on it's freezing out here!" Morten shouted, banging on the metal doors of the garage. For one reason or another, it seemed that closing them that last time had budged them up something fierce, and no matter how he pulled at the handle, it just wouldn't move one bit. 

So the only reasonable move was to start banging on the doors. He didn't feel like going to the back, and he didn't want to risk banging on the windows out of fear of breaking the glass. 

 

Shivers ran through him as a gust of wind blew over him, seemingly ignoring the clothes he had on, feeling like it went across his bare skin, cooling him to the core. Fuck, he better hurry.

 

Just then, a click sounded somewhere behind them, similar to the one he heard yesterday. A click of a gun. While his gun was resting against the doors oh so so far away in this situation. 

 

"Don't move. Hands up." An unknown male voice said, sounding like he was a few meters away, probably on the road. Despite wanting to give a sarcastic remark at the difference in orders, the instinct for not being a smartass shut it down as he raised his hands without a word. 

He kept staring at the metal doors, not wanting to tempt fate by turning his head. The small rust spots gave him ideas of how his blood could look like if he was shot right here, splattered across the cold metal.

 

"You alone?" The voice asked again, this time sounding like he moved more to the right. 

 

Lying now would be dumber than eating yellow snow, considering he was yelling for Blitz to open the door not a moment before. 

 

"No. You heard me yelling." The words left his mouth along with a small cloud of steam, quickly disappearing as another gust of wind passed by, filling the air with the creaking of the tall trees. There was no answer. 

 

Well, there was, but not what he expected. 

 

The metal doors clicked and slid up with a noisy creak, revealing Blitz from boots up, along with the smell of deer hides and innards. He blinked as the bright light hit his eye, looking at Morten with a squint. 

 

"There, it's open... why are you holding your arms up?"

 

"Sir? Sir, is that you?" The voice said, sounding as surprised as Morten was at that moment. 

 

"What-MOXXIE?!" Blitz shouted, leaning beside Morten to look at the person behind him, the man himself dumbfounded at what was happening.

 

"It is you! We-we found you! Finally!" 

 

"Moxxie!" Blitz said again, running past Morten, who by now lowered his hands and turned around to see what was happening. 

 

His eyes wandered for a moment until he spotted what he assumed was another imp, standing behind the road barrier, revolver in hands pointing down. 

 

He wore clothes that seemed too large for him, and it might've been the distance, but he looked smaller than Blitz. His horns certainly were, though not by much, and with the same black-and-white pattern. Was this Blitz's brother or something? A scarf was pulled up to his eyes, and an oversized beanie completed the look. The amber-yellow eyes were focused on the larger imp approaching him at Mach speed. 

-

 

Blitz couldn't believe his eyes! Moxxie was here! For him! 

He nearly tripped as he rounded the road barrier, running to his number one employee (Whenever it wasn't Loona or Millie), pouncing on him before Moxxie could get away. 

 

"Oh Moxxie I'm so happy to see you!" 

 

"Sir, let go, you're choking me! Why is your head bandaged?" Moxxie protested, as usual, trying to push him off, but he couldn't match the power of pure excitement! 

 

 "You have no idea how shit this whole week has been! I can't wait to see Mills and Loona, where are they?" Blitz ignored the protest, squeezing him tight, ignoring what he was pretty sure sounded like the sound of cracking ribs.

 

"They are not with me." 

 

-

 

By the time he reached the two imps that had disappeared behind the road barrier, Morten heavily doubted his chances of the afternoon nap, as much as he wanted one. 

 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE NOT WITH YOU?!" Blitz shouted at the top of his lungs, his previously happy voice now sounding panicked and slightly angry. 

 

"We separated  cough  a few hours ago, they went a different way with a guy...."

 

"YOU LEFT MY BABY WITH SOME STRANGER?!" 

 

"MILLIE IS WITH HER, STOP YELLING!"

 

Morten watched two imps yelling at each other on a snow-covered road when he sensed movement out of the corner of his eyes, almost out of his view. 

 

Turning his head, he was greeted with two figures approaching them, one looking decently normal, while the other one...

 

 *Is that a giant, or was there something in that stew?*

 

Just as he was about to try and look a bit better, finding their eyes, a searing pain passed through his eyes, causing them to close on reflex, his whole head turning to look away. A pained grunt went up his throat as the pain spread through his head, the feeling of a vice pressing on the sides of his skull.

 

"Jesus fuck, ah!" 

 

-

 

Octavia was confused by what she was seeing, a feeling that was not helping her current state. 

 

After they had taken cover, and waited for something else to happen, Moxxie told them to wait while he checked the situation out. He then scampered off and left the two of them alone to wait quietly. Wait and stare as the imp sneaked closer to the house, from which a man left, not looking like he was afraid or concerned about someone watching him. He walked across the road, only glancing once in their direction, but without any show that he spotted them. Moxxie, hiding behind a tree, sneaked up on him with ease, and held him at gunpoint after the man banged on the door a few times, shouting something she just barely discerned as "Blitz". 

 

Once they saw the familiar figure of the brash, loud imp running out of the garage, both Octavia and Asmodeus assumed they might as well walk over there instead of continuing to sit in the cold snow. 

 

And that proved to be an unknowingly wrong move. The man they saw before looked at them for but a moment and his head turned to the side, his arms grasping at its side as he groaned in pain. 

 

"What's wrong with him?" Moxxie asked, both imps stopping their argument, now looking at the man doubled down, one arm on his knee, another gripping the side of his head, breathing heavily. 

 

"I don't know...Hey, Mort, you alright buddy?" 

 

"...no..." Morten said curtly after a short pause, looking at the ground. "Who...who're those guys?" He asked, leaning his head to the right. 

 

Blitz turned to look at both her and Asmodeus, a look of confusion on his face. 

 

"Who the fuck are you two?"

 

"SIR!" Moxxie shouted, pulling him so their backs were turned to them. 

-

 

"That's Octavia, Stolas' daughter. And Asmodeus." 

 

"What? What are they doing here?" 

 

"She came with us to look for you and the prince, and we came across Asmodeus by chance. He's looking for Fizzarolli, but since..."

 

"Alright, ALRIGHT I got the gist, I don't care about that sellout. I know where he is. And the prince too." 

 

"You do? That's great! Uh, where would that be?" 

 

"A bit behind those mountains over there. Oh, and the only path through has probably collapsed, and has some weird cultist bastards in it too."

 

Moxie's enthusiasm collapsed as he looked at the mountains, his jaw slack as the thought of more freezing and walking set in his mind. 

 

"MOTHERFUCK

 

-/-I-/-

-Bleak Inlet- 4th Day- Early afternoon- 

 

Millie felt a tremor pass through her that had nothing to do with the cold. 

 

Not a very painful one, but a concerning one nonetheless. Her wound was all in order, so it wasn't that. Nor did she feel hungry. 

Could something have happened to Moxxie? 

 

As much as it scared her, she couldn't think about it right now. Guy guy and Loona were on the move, going her way, though it seemed as if they were a bit...distant. Not just far away from the station she was in, but also from each other. No talk, no looking at each other, but more like each to their own. Has something happened while she was gone? 

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-

-&-

-Somewhere close to the Blackrock region-

 

"That's the spot?" 

 

"Oui mon ami, that's where we found her, unconscious and freezing."

 

They were standing in front of a very old, and very derelict hut that sat in a shallow pass that stretched off from the main road, accessible only by a rather ominous footbridge across a ravine with a river running through it. 

 

It was a trip that took them about two hours or so, as they had to move slowly and with care, the deep snow not helping them either. Luck was on their side however, with fair weather and no wind in their faces, and only a few deer scampering away the moment they heard them trudging along. 

 

Vachon was grumpy at the prospect of having to venture outside and away from the warmth of fire, but despite their situation, he was not going to argue with the mountie, who had a determined look in his eyes Vachon knew not to challenge. Plus, here he didn't have to shovel snow or cut trees, though his feet did start to hurt and freeze.

 

It was weird having to come here again, after finding the woman days ago. Not only was she here with them, but she was also wearing a pair of aviator glasses that had no reason to be on her eyes. Though, perhaps her eyes were partially annoyed by the whiteness of the snow? She hadn't talked to him, or the other two men that were with them, instead only keeping close to the mountie like a baby duck does to her mother. 

 

Now, the two of them stepped forth, away from the rest.

-

 

She recognized this place. Not clearly, but enough of the visuals overlapped with memories that started to float up to her consciousness.

 

It was colder, much colder than now. And it was much darker, night probably. And there was...loud whistling, passing over her ears. The sky...was nowhere to be found. 

 

A pair of yellow glowing orbs was in front of her, behind a thin veil of ever-falling snowflakes, moving, and then suddenly vanishing. Then, the dark took over everything. Between the whistles, she heard something else. A loud, piercing howl, and then another, and another...

 

...and another.

They weren't just in her head. They were real. She felt his hand pull her behind him, as the air was filled with shouting and growling. 

 

Notes:

It has truly been an eventful time since the last chapter, at least in my real life. A month exactly! During that time, I've been to many places, some of them better, some worse. And the months ahead are just going to be more eventful. Its safe to say that moving might happen. As in, moving out. But enough about that.

There's a little thing for you all in Chapter 18 that you might want to check out. And more goodies of visual nature are in store too ;)

Things will move on, don't you worry. Everything will happen, in time.
I sincerely wish you all a great weekend ahead, and a wonderful autumn. Be safe, be happy, and be good.
(And yes, that cut of Moxxie shouting is as intended)

Chapter 37: Two pairs

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-
-&-
-Somewhere close to the Blackrock region-

 

The wolves emerged from all sides, barking and snarling as they circled the small group. Instinctually the people closed together, the men surrounding the white-haired woman between them.

 

As the circling continued, one of the wolves charged closer, aiming for Vachon's leg, but it missed its mark. Vachon did not. 

 

He swung the hatchet with full force, hitting the beast at the side of its head, piercing the thick hide and splitting the muscle underneath, drawing blood and a pained yelp as the wolf backed off, blood droplets falling to the snow from the open wound. The others took their place at the front, leaping with open maws at the armed men, but only managing to nick pieces of clothing, and getting hit in return. 

The men shouted and called out to each other as the wolves tightened the ring around them, the smell of blood in the air further rilling them up. 

 

Mountie gripped the small revolver in his hands, a borrowed gift from the warden for this short trip. The iron sights aligned with perfect accuracy, and without waiting a moment longer he pressed on the trigger, firing. 

 

The shot hit just below the head, into the scruff of the neck, causing the entire wolven body to twitch as the bullet embedded itself into the meat, followed by a whining whimper as the hurt member of the pack ran away, if only for a moment. 

 

He fired again and again, none of the shots managing to down the moving beasts, only hurt them and scare them, the sound of the gun and the smell of spent gunpowder having a similar effect to the blazing fire that the animals have feared since the dawn of time. 

 

"Where are the flares!?" 

 

"We've got none!" 

 

"What do we do?!" 

 

Assessing the situation, the mountie figured it was only a matter of time before the beasts got lucky and tore them to pieces. 

 

"To the bridge, move!" He ordered, firing the last bullet in the cylinder. There was no time to reload, as another wolf jumped at him right after firing, high enough to catch him by the throat. Just in the nick of time, he leaned back, pushing against the woman standing between them, pulling a short knife from the scabbard on his belt. The wolf landed down on his front legs, just in the right place. 

 

With full force he kicked the animal into the jaw, the boot cracking the bone as the whole head tilted back from the impact, stunning the wolf. Not wasting a moment, the mountie struck down onto the animal with the knife, slicing into the neck, the blade barely piercing the thick fur coat, but once it was in, it sank deeper in like it was going through melted butter, up to the hilt. He pulled the knife down, further opening the wound, feeling warmth covering his hand as blood spilled out, staining the fur and the trampled snow beneath them. A dying gurgle could be heard, the wolf collapsing to the ground, its feet twitching, blood and saliva leaking out of its mouth. He managed to pierce the windpipe, making the damned animal choke itself on its blood. 

 

That seemed to be enough for the pack. With loud howls they retreated, some of the more hurt members whimpering as they quickly ran away, disappearing behind trees and rocks as fast as they appeared. 

 

"Now, no time to waste, run!" He shouted, wiping the blood off his hand while pulling the woman as gently as he could in the hurry. "Come, follow me." 

-

 

The shouting, the violence, the loud firing of the gun, the smell of blood and gunpowder mixed with that of snow was what she sensed, a scary and paralyzing combination that made her lock up, pressed up between four men trying their best to protect themselves and her. 

 

He...killed that animal. Its life trickled out of its body right before her eyes, the twitching and the gurgling noise giving her stomach a punch from which she felt she would puke, but she held herself together, somehow. 

Gently but firmly he took her by the shoulder, encouraging her on to move with others, to escape from here. 

 

They hurried back from where they came, men in front of her running as fast as they could over uneven terrain, trying their best to follow their tracks and avoid stepping into ankle-deep snow. She followed the best she could, each foot stepping where he stepped, following in his imprints, her feet hurting, her whole legs feeling like they were melting and burning. The cold air hurt to breathe, and the tinted glasses felt like they would drop at any moment.

 

Moments later, they were at the bridge, a creaking wooden structure hanging over a wide ravine, swinging in the wind. A metallic click could be heard as he pressed the cylinder of his gun back in place. 

 

Without further instructions the men moved to cross over in single file, holding onto the ropes as the boots pressed against the creaking planks. 

Before she could follow, a coughing fit caught her, forcing her to lean forward as her irritated throat coughed up the cold air she had been breathing. He first looked back, and then fully stopped, turning back to come to her aid, placing an arm around her shoulders. 

 

"You alright?" 

 

"Y-yeah... *koff* ... I'm good." 

-

 

Vachon was between two men, the trio rushing to get to the other side of the bridge, none daring to look down, out of fear of getting woozy, and out of superstition. 

 

They cleared the halfway point when it happened. Their luck had finally run out. 

 

He heard the snapping of wood behind him, and a scared scream following it. Glancing back, he could see the man had cracked one of the planks, falling through down to his knee, his other leg in an uncomfortable position behind him. 

 

"O fuck!" 

 

Without thinking Vachon turned around, crouching down to help him out as the wind whistled around them, swaying the bridge even harder. 

 

"Pull!" He shouted, grabbing the stuck leg by the fabric in one hand while holding onto the rope with the other. The two men upped, getting the leg unstuck with the sounds of cracking wood as the plank was further pressured. More ominous creaking followed, Vachon feeling it under his knee and the sole of his boot. 

 

"Rapide! En haut!" 

 

As the man's foot was freed, another strong gust of wind blew over them, pushing them onto the ropes as they both grabbed whatever they could to hold on, draining them of what little warmth they had left. The sound of ropes stretching under the tension mixed with more creaking, and Vachon now felt the plank under him beginning to crack.

 

"Merde! It's falling apart!" 

 

Finally, the gust of wind let up, and they spared no moment in getting up. 

Vachon didn't look back at the mountie, fear of plummeting to his doom pushing anything less important at the moment out of his head. 

As fast as they could they kept running, hands hovering over the ropes, ready to catch themselves if another plank decided to come loose. 

 

Just twenty more steps. Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen. Six...

 

Another loud crack of wood filled the air as Vachon felt the plank under him give way, the feeling of losing his footing flooding his body, his hands gripping the ropes with adrenaline-spiked strength. A kick in his back, just under his ribs, made him wince in pain as he pulled himself up. The guy probably couldn't stop in time.

 

"The damn thing is giving way! Move dammit!" The man behind him shouted, panic in his voice as a hand gripped his coat, pulling him up.

 

The ropes in his palms were slippery, forcing him to clutch them savagely to get up and move. The frontman was already off the bridge, waiting for them by the pillars, catching his breath. 

 

Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven. Ten.

 

A gust of wind hit them with the force of a truck, pushing them effortlessly against the ropes, swaying the bridge heavily, and straining the old ropes to their limit. 

 

And then, a snap sounded through the air, and another, and another, as the strain proved to be too much. Vachon felt his world turn, and suddenly he was being pulled back, not by the man behind him, but by gravity. Turning his head, he saw it. The bridge snapped in two, and both sides were falling towards the cliffs they hung from.

 

-

 

At the moment they snapped, the bridge still seemed normal. But moment by moment its strained shape became looser, more relaxed, and at first slowly the structure started to part, each side to its own, with two men still on the ropes, holding for dear life as the mass of wood and hemp swung towards the cliff face, slamming against the sharp rocks, wood breaking and splintering, bits and pieces falling into the depths of the ravine. 

 

Mountie watched, frozen in fear and shock, holding onto the wooden support on his side of the chasm, as the two men clung to the ropes, their shouting barely carried to his ears by the growing wind. 

 

"UP....CLIMB...."

 

"HELP!"

 

The man above them laid down, extending his hands, reaching out to them. 

 

Slowly, they moved, reaching up little by little, climbing the bridge turned ladder, as it swung from side to side, not staying still even for a moment. 

He watched as Vachon reached with his hand to grab the one waiting for him when suddenly he was pulled from behind.

 

"They are here again!" The woman said, her voice followed by the all too familiar growling. It didn't take them long, did it?

 

Gulping down the rising bile of fear, he grasped the revolver once again.

-

 

Vachon held onto the hand that reached down to him with every ounce of strength he had while doing his best to climb as quickly as his state allowed. The man above held his hand in a vice-like grip, despite helping a convicted felon. Perhaps the heat of the moment made him act without thinking.

 

Between the whizzing wind and the strained grunts, a gunshot banged in the air, the noise bouncing off the cliffsides before disappearing. And then another, and another.

 

"Mother Mary, they are still on the other side!" He heard the man beneath him shout, and he didn't have to look to know what he meant. 

 

Between the gunshots, the sounds of barking and growling reached his ears, just like the wolves reached the mountie. 

 

 With one final pull, he was up and above edge. Despite his whole body from fingers to toes hurting and aching from the straining, he pushed just a bit further, turning around to aid the last man in getting up. 

 

A short glance he could spare to the other side of the ravine caused a spark of hope in him. 

 

Neither of the pair were in the snow, only two unmoving wolves. 

They were gone.

 

 

*May God help you Hoffman. We sure as shit can't*

 

-/-I-/-

-Bleak Inlet- 4th Day- Early afternoon- 

 

His nose hurt, his pride hurt, and his foot hurt. 

 

Guy was not enjoying their current situation one bit.

That hour of rest was closer to an hour of silent brooding, as the fact Loona punched him square in the face wasn't something he was particularly fond of. While he understood that things weren't easy, punching him in the nose certainly wasn't the way to do anything about it, nor would it make things better. 

 

They now walked towards what he assumed was a small snow-covered parking, with a tall radio tower standing a close distance behind it, each on their own, meters apart, as the wind breezed above them, carrying some of the loose snow from the tree branches with it. The mask on his face protected him from the cold, though his eyes were still exposed, the wind and the sun making him squint every so often. 

 

 

Three cars were sitting in parking, all frosted up and with snow on their roofs and hoods. As he neared to try the handle of the closest one, he had to stop and look closer at it, as something seemed a bit...off. 

 

Most of the handle lacked the same amount of frost that covered the rest of the car like something touched it not that recently. 

 

And there were these small footprints in the snow, though at first he figured they belonged to some animal just passing by. But looking down, he could see those same prints going from door to door, and then up to the other cars. 

What could it mean? Was there someone here not too long ago? But who would have such small prints? They looked like they belonged to a kid, which further added to the confusion. What would a kid be doing out here alone?

 

"Hey, come look at this." He called out to Loona, who had been standing close by, looking at trees with a gun in her hand. Thankfully she heard him and came immediately, the thing that had a grip on her an hour ago no longer present, though her mood remained dour, much like his. 

 

He pointed at the prints in snow, and how they went from car to car. 

"I don't know what to make of these. They go from car to car, and each of the door handles has no frost on it like it was touched recently."

 

-

 

Loona cursed inwardly at the sight, knowing damn well who left them. The lack of certain someone, more noticeably her weight in the backpack, made it obvious Millie was out and about, probably using the downtime Guy decided for them to sneak out and do some recon or whatever the imp had on her mind. 

 

"They are too small to belong to an adult." 

 

"What would a kid be doing out here alone?" 

 

"That's what I was asking myself too." 

 

"Maybe the kid...licked the handle?" Loona said, knowing before she ended the sentence how dumb it sounded. 

 

"Licked it?" Guy scoffed, letting off a small laugh. "Heh, are you trying to make up for breaking my nose with jokes?" 

 

"Well, kids do all kinds of dumb shit." 

 

"Yeah...still doesn't explain what a kid is doing out here alone."

 

"It's not like things are all normal around here anyway. Neither of us knows"

 

"Mm..."

 

They kept staring at the handles, the silence feeling uneasy, until Guy finally reached for the handle and pulled, only for it to not move an inch. 

He pulled on it more, managing to get it unstuck just a bit, but it looked like the doors were locked. She couldn't gauge if he was still angry or did his frustration with her pass. 

Then again, she couldn't even gauge how she herself was feeling, the last few hours leaving her mentally drained. Having to be reminded of those memories...it caused her fists to clench by themselves, even now that she managed to ground herself some. 

 

-

 

"Well, considering it's locked..." 

 

He smashed the window open with the butt of the rifle, frosted glass shards flying into the car, littering the front seats and tumbling down to the footrest. Slightly pushing the larger shard still holding on until it chipped off and joined the rest of the window at the driver's seat, he reached inside, careful to keep his hand a decent distance from the car doors, and pulled on the inner handle, unlocking the car with a soft click. Pulling on the handle again, he opened it, causing several shards to tumble from their resting place.

 

"And voilà." 

 

With the door open, it didn't take long to open up the other three doors and the trunk, although it took some effort to pull it out of its place, as the frost covering it had locked it down tightly. 

 

The first car was mostly empty, with an old comic book and some documents in the glove compartment, two wool blankets, and a spare tire with no use in the trunk. Guy stuffed a blanket into each of their backpacks, just in case their next stop proves to be less protected. 

 

The second car had several empty, partially crushed cans of soda lying around it, but a handful of unused revolver rounds as well. The trunk was even emptier than the last one, without even a spare tire, only a lost paperclip.

 

The third car was a lucky break, with a can of baked beans, a can of tomato soup, and a can of tuna all sitting pretty in the trunk among a few energy bars. Since most of the food was on the sled, these were a welcome addition to their collection, not to mention a replacement for energy bars that they ate back at the cabin. They were even the same brand!

Stuffing it all inside the pockets of his jacket and backpack, Guy turned his attention to the wooden stairs leading up and towards the radio tower. 

Those same steps lead to them, with prints on the boards as well. And no prints were heading back down. He stopped for a moment, peeking up above the stairs to see a wooden bridge leading to a small building standing in front of the radio tower. No lights came from inside. 

 

 

*Could the kid still be there? This doesn't feel right...*

 

Slipping the rifle from his shoulder, Guy glanced back at Loona, looking at the footprints in the snow. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he started the walk towards the building. 

 

-

 

Loona pushed down her troubles as the creaking of wood made her glance from the footprints Millie left. Guy was going up the stairs, rifle in hand, staring in front of him. Instinctually she drew the revolver, although she doubted there was any threat there if Millie passed through. 

 

*Although...she got wounded during that last fight...what if the same happened now?*

 

"Fuck..." She let out under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough.

 

"Hm? What?"

 

"N-nothing...what are you worried about?" She asked, walking up behind him, up the stairs.

 

"There's no footprints going back, and I don't see any other way they could've gone."

 

"So you're drawing a rifle to let them know you know?" 

 

"What?" 

 

"Look at where we are. That bridge is a perfect spot for even those redneck cultists to kill us clean." She said, pointing at the bridge, and to the building past it.

 

Guy looked at the bridge, and then back at her.

 

"I doubt they would've let us peruse around that parking lot if they knew we were here. We've been out in the open since we left the tower. There's no one watching us."

 

 

-?-?-?-

 

He was watching them for a while now.

 

After that near miss at the dam, he gave them a bit of a head start before he continued following, not wanting to test his luck again. There was no guarantee that there would be any ravens next time. 

 

He checked on the trailers, noting that one had its doors banged in pretty deeply. Someone or something was trying to get in but failed. And that meant he'd probably fail too.

 

They left nothing behind them, except of course their footprints, but even without them, there weren't many places they could've gone to, following the rail towards the coast. 

 

He followed, but from higher ground, going by old paths seldom trod.

Just as he caught up, on the high cliff around which the rail rounded, he caught sight of them, going over a massive tree trunk that fell across a ravine. After a quick check, he figured out why. Rockslide did the rail in.

 

Goggles was already at the other side, undoing the ropes from the sled, which were pulled back by the rest of the group on the other side. 

 

The younger girl went next, shaking on all fours across the chasm. Watching her through the binoculars, he couldn't help but feel a bit of compassion for the young las. She didn't look like a native and in no way as someone belonging to this place. How'd she end up here? What's her story? One that he sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to write the end of. 

 

Just as the white-haired one was about to start crossing, the wind picked up something fierce, followed by deep rumbling of the very ground he crouched on. Another quake.

 

He moved back from the edge, turning back just in time to see a boulder from the rockslide smash through the tree, before tumbling into the ravine with it.

 

Now that they were split, so was he. Should he follow one, or the other? 

When he saw IRA and White hair fastening a rope around one of the rocks protruding next to the cliff, he knew he had to follow them and make sure they didn't hurt any more of the Talkers. Until then, he wouldn't touch them, even if he had a perfect opportunity before him.

 

By the time he reached the rope, they were down and moving through the ravine. He knew where it led, and figured they would be slow to move. 

 

He picked up the pace and reached a good spot overlooking the tight spot where the ravine opened up to the frozen lake, and waited. From here, he had a decent view of the land from the ravine to the abandoned lookout tower, though there were plenty of places to take cover. Like behind a hill, where a few timberwolves were lying in the snow, resting. 

 

The two passed through, resting for a bit in the cover of the rocks, still in the coats of fallen Talkers, with their weapons fitted to their backpacks, before continuing their walk. Up until the wolves were upon them.

 

He reckoned that could be the end. But weirdly, the wolves hadn't pounced on them. Nor did the pair fire. Instead, they retreated, the IRA having to get the White hair to move, who seemingly froze in place. 

 

The wolves stood their ground for a while more, until the pair moved far enough, and proceeded to move somewhere else entirely. 

 

Since the First Flare, predators attacked without a second thought. If one didn't fire or had flame in hand, they would tear them apart. So what in damnation was this? Were things changing, after such a short time? 

Or were they just different for these peculiar individuals?

 

Those thoughts bugged him as he moved once again to close in, coming up near the tower while they were still inside. Taking a breather, he made himself comfortable once again, his clothes still warm, his feet and hands nice and toasty.

-
The White hair punched the IRA, who stormed out, venting his rage on the safety railing, while she sat inside, seemingly frozen. Maybe they'll kill each other and save him of choosing? 

It hadn't happened, as the two moved out of the tower almost an hour later.

 

Now they were standing there, talking, while he watched, one with the terrain, an almost perfect imitation of a small bush. The lenses of his binoculars were lightly smeared with charcoal, just enough to prevent light from shining off of them. He couldn't quite hear what they were talking about, but from the movement, he deduced it had something to do with the abandoned radio shack. Talkers didn't go up at the plateau, but those two didn't know that. It's the only reason they hadn't been killed on sight. Well, that, and the jackets might fool the others at a distance. 

Then, they moved again, over the bridge, and into the shack.

 

Jeremiah continued his wait.

Notes:

Hey there! Another chapter for you to look over :D
I hope that life is treating you good, and that the weather is not too bad.

The art piece of our own Jeremiah was done by a friend going by the name of Kruh, and I have to admit it ain't half bad XD

As for you all, I wish you all the best, and I'll see you at the next chapter ;)

Chapter 38: Chase and steal

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

-8-15-6-6-13-1-14-
-&-
-Somewhere close to the Blackrock region-


He stumbled down the covered narrow path between the rocks, bumping into a jagged edge, scrapping his shoulder against the cold, hard rock. His limbs were burning, wanting rest, his exposed skin numb to the cold that enveloped him, now that even the shy rays of sun were behind them. He could barely hear her behind him, his breathing loud in his ears, mixed with the wind passing through the natural corridor, and the barking of the wolves behind them. Turning his head just for a moment, she was still there, trying her best to stay right behind him, just like he told her. 

 

A pained cry escaped his throat as he stepped badly on a small rock, turning his leg in a weird way. Despite the pain, he was lucky. It wasn't a sprain. 


-

She nearly ran into him as the man slowed down for a moment, the precious moment of stillness that was all her lungs craved. It hurt to breathe, but she did it without restraint, not caring that the cold pain made her feel dizzy, made her eyes water, that she didn't feel her hands anymore, or her feet. All she had to do was move, no matter how much it hurt. 

 

The sounds behind her were still there. She couldn't gauge how close, but instinct alone told her- too close. 

 

"Don't stop, come!" He shouted, grabbing her hand and pulling, too hard and too quickly for it to be painless, her only protest that of a small pained wince escaping through gritted teeth. 

 

The narrow path between the rocks went on and on, winding both left and right, at times going up, at others going down so steeply they almost tumbled onto the ground, all the while the wind passed through the many openings and passageways above their heads, carved from years of weather washing away the rock and dirt. 
Just as her heart threatened to jump out of her throat, they stopped again, facing a natural ledge around which were many small, leafless bushes with small berries, only a bit larger than a thumb. 

"Go, climb!" He shouted again, pointing at the gray roots that stretched from the top of the ledge, pushing her in front of him and guiding her hands to grasp the cold stone and pull herself upwards, first by rocks, then by roots themselves, firm and unmoving even as she put her whole weight onto them. Struggling to go over the top, she felt a push from below, and her cheeks reddened, but she said nothing, her brain focusing on the more important matter of getting up. 

 

She turned to see him climbing as quickly as he could, the wolves right behind him, one leaping forth, jaws about to snap around his foot, but her arms were quicker, pulling him up with what little strength she had left. The jaw snapped shut, catching only the cold air, a cloud of steam surrounding it as drool splattered over the rocks, the wolves barking and growling, trying to get up the same ledge with no success, paws scratching against the rock, unable to stand firm on the outcroppings too small for them. 

Pushing her behind him and away from them, he stood there, catching his breath, looking down at the animals that kept trying to get up to them, each attempt a failure. 

 

She stood still, thinking now only of breathing, the pain in her hands and legs pulsating to her very core, feeling like she could collapse any moment. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, now turned to her again, grasping her hands together, guiding her to rub them for heat as they stood there, safe for the moment. The noise of the animals quieted in her ears as she looked down at their hands, feeling the soft warmth seeping into her fingers, even as the wind wrapped around them.  

"Yes." She said, leaning forward, closer to him, what for warmth, what for the feeling of comfort he gave her, even doing something as small as holding her hands to heat them. 

 

At least for a moment, the pain pulsing through her body lessened, happiness blooming inside her, even as everything around her was the pure opposite of that feeling, alien to these unforgiving, harsh wilds. 

 

-/-I-/-

-Bleak Inlet- 4th Day- Early afternoon- 

 

Guy stilled his breathing, standing still at the now open doorway. The outside light made the inside seem darker than it was, forcing him to squint and wait for his eyes to adjust, rifle steady at his shoulder, ready to fire. 

 

 

The moment stretched on, the silence filled only with the sound of wind and his shallow breaths.

 

Nothing moved. Nothing happened. 

 

He stepped forward, as quietly as he could, aiming at the closest doorway, ears pricked for any noise, but none came, his boots against the floor the only new thing he could hear. A creak of wood passed through the air, causing him to stop in his tracks, waiting. 

 

"Hey kid, we're not gonna hurt you, come out!" Loona shouted behind him, making him jump in surprise, almost firing his rifle by accident. 

 

"Grhh, pff, gruhh...Loona, you trying to give me a heart attack? A-And, and where's your backpack?"

 

"Outside."

 

"W-What, why?" 

 

"Why not?" 

 

Guy wanted to answer, but a slam somewhere inside sounded before he could, causing him to turn back to the doorway, rifle raised. 

 

"Suuure, no one's inside, things are just making noise on their own." He said in a mock voice, frowning as he took another step forward. 

-

 

Loona stood behind him, a bit concerned by that slam, but only for a moment, as she felt someone tugging at her pants leg. 

Millie gave her a thumbs up and a wink as she passed the open doorway and went to sit down on her backpack for a bit. Loona gave a small, quiet smile, before turning around and pushing Guy on the shoulder in a joking manner, passing him.

 

"Relax Mister Exorcist, it's probably an open window. Here, let me show ya." She rambled, walking past the doorway before Guy could stop her, grounded by the lack of care and a change of attitude. Walking into the other room, she found nothing but dust-covered desks with a bunch of papers strewn over them, with nothing of note or importance, though the drawers and lockers might hold some items. 

 

 

Guy walked in behind her, trying to catch her, but she passed on and entered the other room full of electronic hardware, with wires and cables here and there, buttons, knobs, and dials all set low, unpowered. books, CDs, and a clipboard, among other things, all sat covered in dust, though as Loona walked around, her steps covered over a much smaller pair of footsteps before Guy could notice them. She reached up and closed the window that was partially open with a satisfying click.

 

 

"There, like I said. Now can you drop that rifle and cool off?" 

-

 

Guy stared at the girl, confused in a way he rarely ever was. 

Just what was going on with that girl?

It couldn't have been that time of the month, right? Or was there something else that made her turn her behavior seemingly at random?

 

Lowering the rifle, he put it back on his shoulder, tugging at the sling as he looked from her to the ground and around, biting his lip to stop a curse that was at the tip of his tongue. It didn't make sense, and he hated that. 

Should he ask her? 

 

*No, no. Best to leave it. For now.*

 

With a sigh, he turned around and went back into the room with desks and computers. Opening the drawers, he wasn't surprised by the fact they were mostly pens, papers, clipboards, and other useless office junk, only good for starting a fire if tinder of other sorts was unavailable. Not even a packet of gums or matches, anywhere.

 

The papers on top of the desk didn't help much either. Radio maintenance reports, various readings he hadn't a clue about and... a note.

 

"Request extraction. Wolves everywhere. Chased out of the Muskeg to the coast. All predator deterrents failed. 

 

No food left. Going to check out the work site down below tower 12, for supplies-- use code 154 to bypass security doors. Hurry. 

 

Saw some of the Talker freaks about. Unsure if they're hostile, but will try to avoid them.

 

...

 

Sector 12 Tower Failure. Remote service for Automated Relay. Extreme Predator Threat. 

 

Partner Specialist 81926"

 

"Huh, interesting..."

 

"What is?" Loona asked, coming up behind him, staring at the paper, nearly resting her chin on his shoulder. 

 

"Well, this 'ere mentions the wolves, and that 'all predator deterrents failed'. But the wolves we encountered...uh, never mind." Guy stopped himself from continuing, not wanting to cause a reaction. 

 

"Oh, huh, guess they're called Talkers? Wonder what they're talking about. Consistency of squirrel droppings or something, ha!" Loona joked, leaving the place behind his back, looking elsewhere. Guy thought about the words, not knowing whether to laugh or frown further. 

 

"The smoke down at those buildings...we should see who it is." He said, tossing the paper back onto the desk, having read it twice now. It would serve him no more in his backpack, just more weight until he used it as kindling. 

 

"Guess we could use this then?" Loona said, holding up what looked like old binoculars, the lenses damaged, but still in one piece.

 

---

Setting his view on the cannery buildings, he watched what was happening, spotting several figures outside. At least two guards, watching over the bridge and the road that passed by. Inside the fence, the people walked to and from buildings, and as one of them opened a large door, he spotted an interesting sight. Horses, resting inside.

 

Putting the cracked binoculars away, Guy scratched at his chin, thinking.

Nothing stopped them from going the other way, towards the quonset Octavia and the rest were hopefully at by now, along with the rest of his guys. He still didn't know where Fred and Ollie were, but a sliver of hope remained they were there, if not somewhere else around Mystery Lake. How they would get to them if they were back there was not something he could answer without more worry clouding him. 

 

But what if they are seen? With those horses, they could catch up to them, and he doubted the two of them would be as lucky as they were back at the camp office. Not only would it put them in danger, it would endanger others as well. 

 

Unless...they fooled them somehow? Sabotage them here, before escaping with...horses. They could use those horses, give them time to run, and warn the others before the bastards give chase! Yes, yes, a good idea. 

 

But would it be as good in reality?

 

As his fingers scratched the balaclava, a new connection started to form. 

His face hidden...and their jackets...Wasn't there a movie scene like this once?

 

"I have an idea."

 

-?-?-?-

 

It had been a slow watch today. Nothing much happened, save for another small tremor, making the ground tremble terribly. The wolves kept to their side of the inlet, not coming close after what Jesse and he did to them a week ago, in revenge for what they did to his Maeve, biting her leg so badly they had to cut it. But the girl recovered, and he rewarded her with a good piece of deer tenderloin, all for her to chew. 

 

Pulling the bolt on his rifle again, he checked for the thirty-eighth time today that the bullet was indeed in the same place as it was ten minutes ago. With a sigh he pushed the bolt back in place, rolling his eyes as he leaned onto the railing, eyes flying over the snow. He hated watch duty. Nothing ever happens. He'd much rather take Cian for a walk, preferably a hunt, but Jesse was tending to the horses, and Gordy wouldn't let him go on his own. Despite all his skills and knowledge, going out alone was dangerous. Even for them. 

 

"Looks like a fog's coming soon." He heard Elke talking as she approached, the gray-white color of her coat masking her against the surrounding snow. 

 

"Great, like this couldn't have been any more boring." 

 

"Patience, Shaw. Just because you don't like watch duty doesn't mean it's for naught." 

 

"I could be helping, hunting or fishing, or anything else." 

 

"You are helping. You're keeping us safe." 

 

"Safe from what? The wolves aren't coming near here, and no one on the island can hurt us!" He responded, thumping against his chest. 

 

Elke held her response, but when she spoke, it sounded ironic.

 

"You might want to think about that again. Look." 

 

Shaw followed her hand, pointing at the road leading towards the bridge. Aiming the rifle, he looked through the scope, letting out a drawn-out 'whaa...' as he did.

"FETCH THE HORSES! TWO OF OURS COMING FROM THE BRIDGE, WOUNDED!" 

 

-.-.-


"Fuck this feels dumb." 

 

"It'll work."

 

"And you know that because..."

 

"Well, they're not about to shoot at their own guys, now will they?" 

 

Guy himself didn't fully trust the words he said, but it made sense. No matter how disturbing they might be, those cultists were still human. And thus were still weak to all of the exploits one might use against the other. 

They had left the radio hut behind them, walking back to the road where rocks and boulders blocked it, but found it traversable, although Loona seemed to have had some trouble with her backpack, but she didn't want to answer why. 

 

 

After that, they followed the road down towards the bridge that spanned across the mouth of the small inlet. Passing by an overturned eighteen-wheeler, its container buster open and empty, with nothing but a small mound of snow inside it, they began Guy's idea.

 

 

As they neared its end, he adjusted his mask, and the hold he had on Loona. She had been pretending to be wounded, fake limping and keeping her head down, clutching her midsection, appearing like she was badly injured. A gut shot, needing medical attention.  

 

 

He couldn't see any movement from the rocks that stood at the end of the bridge, though he expected they would be spotted the moment they went off it. 

Hopefully, they would let them in. Once inside, things would be easy, as long as they kept their cool, and had a bit of luck on their side.

 

"Just a bit more, don't worry. Throw on your best theater act, and don't forget about Mother Nature and whatnot these crazies worship."

 

Loona let out an agreeing "Mhm", before tripping over herself, nearly falling to the wet asphalt had he not caught her, chuckling as he did. The thought of fooling someone always got a laugh out of him, ever since he was a kid, hence why he wasn't the best in hide and seek. 

As they got off the bridge, two figures on horseback came into view, approaching them quickly. Guy stopped, and instinctually raised his hand, waving for them to come. 

"Guess we're lucky, they're coming to us on horses." He whispered, feeling a mixed sense of relief and unease. Perhaps they won't need to head inside after all. From where he stood, he saw another figure standing on the balcony of one of the cannery buildings, holding a long rifle in its hands. Even from here, he could see a bulky chapka on its head,  its ears set down. He wouldn't mind one himself, though it would probably be too hot after a while, even in this weather. 

 

"Hey, you do know how to ride a horse, right?" 

 

Loona gave a nod, tapping him to follow her lead, and set her down lower so she was on her knees, head low, while she hid a knife in her left hand. He continued waving but kept a mental note of the revolver he took from Loona inside his coat, as the rifle and the axe would've been too unwieldy inside the cannery space. She would've done fine with just the knife. 

 

The two figures approached, halting their horses a short distance from them. Guy looked at the masked faces wearing leather snow goggles, the black glass hiding their eyes. Not a bit of skin was exposed.  

 

"You two, what happened? From where are you coming?" A male voice asked, sitting tall atop a black horse. He wore a coat very similar to theirs, but the camouflage was without any holes or removed sticks or leaves, fully intact. 

 

"We're from Bens group! We were ambushed while heading to Mystery Lake!" Guy spoke quickly, using the name he read in the letter days ago, hoping that they wouldn't need their names because of it. Now if they could just get them off the horses...


"What's with her?" A female voice asked, dismounting from her gray horse with black spots, a large brown satchel with a red cross across its body on her, along with the fully camouflaged coat. She began to approach them, and Guy noticed that she was about a head shorter than him. Hopefully, it would make things easier.

 

"A gut shot, I stopped the bleeding but it's still in there..." Guy said as he let go of Loona's arm, directing his attention to the man still on the horse. 

"Ambushed? By who?" He asked, but before Guy could answer, the woman cut him off. 

"It can wait, Gordy, help me get her onto the horse, they must be exhausted. It's not a short trek from Mystery Lake to here." She said, taking Loona's right hand and placing it across her shoulders, trying to lift her. 

 

Guy held his tongue, pretending he indeed was exhausted, drawing heavy breaths and leaning forward, but paying attention to what Gordy would do.

The man looked like he wanted to say something, judging by the movements under his mask, but opted for silence, moving the horse closer, and dismounting. Just as his boot touched the ground, Guy exhaled.

 

"NOW!" 

 

Before the two cultists could react, Guy grabbed the man from behind, putting him in a headlock and bending him back, forcing his forearm onto his neck, the other hand pressing at the side of his head. 

Loona acted just as fast, grabbing the shorter woman with her right hand, pulling her back so she barely touched the ground with her feet, pressing the knife against her throat as she winced in surprise.

"Shut the fuck up." 

Guy pressed onto the man's windpipe harder, but he started to grab back behind him, trying to grab him. Knowing they're running out of time, Guy grunted. 

"Sorry." 

With that, he smashed the grip of the revolver onto the man's head. 

"GORDY!" The woman shouted but was quickly silenced as Loona pressed the blade, intending to slice her open. 

"HEY! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" A shout came from the cannery, and Guy struck again, feeling the man go limp in his hold. 


A gurgling sound came from his left as Loona dropped the woman onto the ground face first, dashing for the horse. 

"Come on Guy, go!" 

 

Without waiting he jumped onto the black horse before it could do anything, securing his feet into the stirrups and grabbing the reins. With but a moment to stabilize himself, he pressed onto the horse's sides with his boots, and pulled onto the rein, while making a short clicking sound. And indeed the horse moved forth with some speed, following suit after Loona, who had already broken into a gallop across the bridge. 

 

Guy didn't look back even as the shouts continued, focusing on getting the horse to move as fast as possible. They had to reach that garage fast! 

"GO, FOLLOW THE ROAD!" He shouted as each thud of the hooves shook his entire body in a weird, rhythmical massage. The wind blew around his head, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, pumping of his heart loud even against the elements. 

They galloped across the bridge, not stopping for a moment as the distance from the cannery grew larger and larger, the promise of safety closer and closer with every breath. His horse was slightly faster, and he caught up with Loona as they passed the first few trees right after the bridge. Slowing down just a bit, they both breathed out a sigh of relief, and Loona let out a chuckle. 

"Ha...ha...that went well..." She panted out, just as excited as he was, if not more.

"Thank...God...." He uttered between breaths, still under pressure. 

"Blitz is gonna freak out when he sees us, ha!" Loona shouted, opening her arms. 

"We got the fucking horses!" She yelled out in an excited voice.

 

Before he could say anything, a shot rang out. The girl collapsed to the side.  

 

"LOONA!"

 

Notes:

Hello folks! First off, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year (With a delay)
Second, I bring you this chapter out of sheer luck. These last months I've been making plans of moving to another place due to work, and yeah it has taken a bit of a toll on writing. But fear not, the story is still ongoing!

With that said, how about that Hazbin Hotel show huh? Hope they do well, and you too! All the best to you all, and thank you for sticking with us all this time!