Samuel Lowgate
Location: Ghostwood National Forest
Phase: Morning Phase
Date: 22.11.1987 (SUN)
Weather: Rain
"The rain isn't letting up..."
The first words that anyone in the group had spoken in a long while came from Rachel.
One by one, each pair of eyes in the group of nine youngsters of varying ages turned to look at the one who had spoken - the redhead with a penchant for tropically coloured clothing that she had, this time, topped off with a rain poncho that reached all the way to her ankles. Rachel Halloway, the so-called 'teenage heiress' of the local hotel, Owl's Nest, had never been the most vocal fan of the group's little trips to the various hard-to-access places around Road's End, but this time, her words were not meant as a complaint. Instead, they were more of an observation and acknowledgement that this would make the task ahead of them even harder.
"... My aunt's gonna throttle me," Rachel whimpered quietly, before shaking her head. "Well... I'll gladly take that if it means we'll turn this around. Has everybody got their stuff? I brought the MREs."
She turned to look around the group that surrounded her, each one of the other eight members of their little group.
The first one to nod was a slightly older youth with a long, silver hair and a confident smile... well, he usually had. This time there was something else to it, a sort of grim determination that he tried not to display - an acknowledgment that the reason for this mess was not the usual curiosity and wanderlust that they all shared. This young man, of course, was the unofficial second-in-command for the group, and the big brother they all looked up to, more or less.
"Yeah. I've got my tools and such, plus a compass and other things," Jake Briggs replied. "What about the rest of you dudes and dudettes? Anyone forget anything?"
The one to immediately shake his head was the boy next to Jake, with a raven-black hair held on a braid and a rather stylish look when compared to the others. It was the sign of his teenage rebellion against his father, with whom he shared much more than his first name. Perhaps that was why the son of the local mechanic refused to acknowledge his heritage in any way, instead looking like an up-and-coming yuppie from New York.
"I've got my tools as well, in case we need to craft anything on the spot," Tommy Horse said and patted his backpack. "Plus extra batteries if our flashlights run out.
"Good," another male voice answered him. "That'll be helpful if this drags out long and if the weather keeps up."
The one to speak was the tallest boy of the group, dressed in neat but practical clothing. He also carried what looked to be the heaviest backpack of the group, but the reason for it was also clear. They had all seen him meticulously fill it to the brim with medical supplies and other assorted items that would help in case any one of them hurt during the search. Which made sense, considering that such work was the passion of the boy in question.
"I made a list and checked it twice," Albert Roslin said with a nod and a tip of his cap. "We're all good on my end."
After the boy had said that, naturally everyone turned to look at the remaining members of the group. Most of them didn't have as specialized items they were bringing with them, but each one was holding either a flashlight or an electric torch, and carrying some sort of hiking equipment. Aside from those necessities there was also the collapsible poles that one of the boys was carrying - an emergency stretcher if need for one became apparent. The boy holding onto it was dressed much lighter than the rest of them, but the cold didn't seem to bother him - and neither did the rain. If anything, it made his crimson stare even more focused and intense - one enhanced by the red raincoat he pulled over his shoulders.
"... No need to worry. I remembered this," Devon Rustfield spoke and pointed to what he was carrying, his voice quiet yet determined. "And then... I've also got this."
He patted the combat knife hanging from his belt - an action which made Jake frown.
"Well, let's hope we won't need that, dude - except for cutting down branches or something," the older boy said, before his frown deepened and he glanced over to the girl near Devon. "... And let's hope we won't need that either."
The girl in question snorted and adjusted the rifle she had slung over her shoulder from its strap. it was a slightly older yet well-maintained weapon, a hunting rifle from the looks of it and clearly had seen its fair share of use. And the way the short girl was handling the thing, she seemed to be as used to it as the clothes she wore - mostly various shades of grey and black. Her green eyes stared unflinchingly back at Jake.
"Pays to bring it with. You do know there are bears and cougars in the area, right J? Not to mention even an elk can gore you if you play your cards right," the girl said while chewing on some pitch gum. "Besides, the sound of a rifle will carry much farther than any of us can yell, dummy. So yeah, stop it with that frown already. You know I'm right. Hmph."
Jake's expression faltered a little bit, and eventually he relented with a sigh. There really wasn't arguing with this girl... the girl their group called just "Max". Mostly because her real name "Maxine Savage" irked her something fierce. Thus, the nickname had stuck just as well as that gum she liked stuck to whatever she spat it at when she was done with it.
"... What about Remmie?"
The question that broke the slightly awkward atmosphere was asked with a soft voice. Near the rear of the group, a boy in baggy clothing and with a fluffy mop of hair on his head looked at the rest of his friend with question in his eyes. While he didn't look like he was exactly dressed for a nature hike in drizzling rain, he was still moving through the undergrowth like a pro, having not even stumbled once. This was, of course, Samuel Lowgate - the usual "eyes in the rear" whenever their group went out to adventuring.
Even now, when it wasn't really an "adventure" anymore, this was the case.
"------ Remmie said she'd catch up later," Jake answered, his face hardening into an expression of someone who didn't agree with this decision made by their fearless leader. "In other words... we'll just press on. So, let's go, dudes and dudettes. We've got a proper hike ahead of us."
Together, the group nodded their heads and their expressions settled into focused, determined looks. Each one of them knew that this was a far cry from their usual outings which were mostly for fun and out of curiosity. This time things were deadly serious... and this time, the consequences of screwing up would be harsh.
Even the youngest of the group knew this - the two travelling in the middle of the nine-person team.
"Umm..."
One of the kids, the one with blonde hair and bright blue eyes raised her voice. She was dressed cutesy clothing that she personally didn't much care for, but which her mother apparently adored. Her eyes scanned her older friend as if searching for someone, but when they didn't find her, she settled to look at Jake who had taken the lead, as usual when Remmie wasn't around.
"What... what about Angelica?" Patricia Griffith asked, sounding worried. "Ain't she coming with us...?"
The girl next to her, the one with pale, pink hair and very simple clothing, said nothing. Instead, her eyes bore into Jake, as if emphasizing the question that had been asked by the blonde next to her. Indeed, the girl practically never said anything. Instead her liquid eyes were the only things that could convey any emotions. Every now and then she would pipe in with an odd sound, but this wasn't one of those times.
"..........."
Instead, Eliya used her silence as a question in itself - one that echoed Patricia's.
"Angelica... she went on ahead. Meaning, she's already tracking him down," Jake finally replied, having half-forced those words out of his mouth. "I heard Remmie and her arguing about what to do, and apparently, she thinks it's too dangerous for us others to come so... well, so she stole a headstart. We're chasing after her as much as we're chasing after Nevada."
Others, upon hearing this, fell silent.
Well, everyone else but Max. Upon hearing this piece of news, her eyebrows shot towards her hairline.
"Angie did...? Wait. That doesn't make sense. Out of all of us, I thought Angie was the only one who actually knew where the Devil's Dishes are - only she wasn't telling us 'cause Remmie would have gone and done something stupid. Including getting the military on our asses," the tomboy spoke up and drilled Jake with her stare. "So why the hell is Angie now 'tracking' him? She should already know how to get there, and we have no way of catching up in time."
The silence that followed was as quiet as a cemetery. One by one, those stares turned to look at their second-in-command who was leading them through the undergrowth and deeper into the forest, up the slopes of Ghostwood and further and further towards the people they were chasing after. Jake's mouth had become a thin white line, and it was almost like he was struggling underneath unseen pressure from the attention of his friends...
... But it wasn't Jake who broke. Or broke the silence.
"T-that's... that's because Nevada isn't headed for the Dishes! Not at first!"
--- It was Tommy.
"I-I mean... when we talked last night, we knew that Angie wouldn't slip up or reveal anything about where they were... so if someone actually wanted to find them, we'd have to search for another w-way," Tommy spoke, hesitantly, clearly crushed by the guilt he was feeling. "... Then... then I brought up that thing we heard from Ms. Boulders last year when she was d-drunk... the only proper h-hint we've gotten how to get there, and I think... Nevada thinks that he can use it to find the Dishes, by... by going to that place first, and then heading south..."
Even in the rain, it was hard to not realize that Tommy was holding back some pitiful tears. His friends all averted their gazes, some more than others, realizing that though he did have responsibility when it came to all this, it was useless to blame him now.
"Listen dudes... what's done is done. You all know how heated Nevada can get. He always feels he has something to prove, especially when it comes to Remmie and... well Tommy went too far. But we can cry over spilt milk later," Jake stepped back into the conversation. "What's important is that while Nevada ain't heading straight to the Devil's Dishes, he's headed somewhere else just as troublesome first. And... even more than the Devil's Dishes, we want to catch him before he makes his way there. Everyone got that?"
Throwing a meaningful look over his shoulder, Jake waited until everyone acknowledged his words with a nod. Max, however, stared back somewhat defiantly even after she nodded, facing Jake's stare with her own glare.
"And that place, the one Boulders told us about... you're meaning that place, right?" She asked. "'Head up the slope of White Pine Mountain, straight from the end of the crevice and off the beaten path.'? That one? Are you actually serious, guys?"
Patricia, looking alarmed at the hostility in her friend's voice, let out a tiny squeak.
"U-um... what's this place y'all keep talking about?" She asked, her voice wavering a bit. "Is it even worse than Devil's Dishes...?"
Max kept her mouth shut, angrily chewing on her pitch gum. Instead, it was Rachel who opened her mouth to answer.
"--- Yeah. It is."
She clicked her tongue as she pushed aside a grand branch of a pine tree reaching down to the eye-level.
"He's first headed to the Ol' Hangman Tree," the heiress spoke quietly, as if talking about something sinister and disgusting. "The Worrywell Grove, in other words."
That word caused everyone in the group to shiver, even though they could barely feel the rain trickling through the thick canopy of trees spreading above them.
While Patricia may have been still slightly confused, all the locals knew about the Worrywell Grove. Or rather, they knew that they knew precious little about it, and for a reason - it was a local folktale that every adult was mum about, and refused to even acknowledge. And if someone accidentally brought it up, all they got as an answer was a stone-dead silence. It was as if the whole town was trying to erase the existence and the memory of that place once and for all, and even acknowledging that its existence was too much. For all intents and purposes, to the populatioon of Road's End, the Worrywell Grove did not exist.
Except, of course, it did. There was no denying that. And the more the adults did, the more the local kids got curious about it, until they all - one way or another - came to learn something about it that made them end their investigation right then and there. In fact, for most of the people in the group, it had been investigation into the Worrywell Grove that had brought them together in the first place... and the realization of what that place really was that had made them decide to leave that place alone.
Long time ago, in the 60's, the town of Road's End had used the large yew tree that lay at the center of that clearing to... hang someone. To lynch them.
That's the only way it could be described.
Lynching.
Since then, the area had changed, as if stained by the horrible act that the townspeople had performed. Grass, bushes, trees... everything withered and died in the area of the clearing, turning to nothing but ashen ground and blackened husks of their former selves. The dirt itself hardened and cracked, dead leaves covered it and did not decompose properly and the tree at the center of it all... it changed as well. The bark became deep, sickly black and the stems sprouting from it twisted and turned, as if writhing in agony. The leaves that grew were practically dead and a sense of wrongness hung about it like a thick, choking fog.
That tree would thus became known as the Old Hangman. For even to this day, the rope used to perform that miserable deed still swung silently in the wind, attached to one of the overhanging branches.
--- Everyone in Road's End knew the truth. There was something wrong with that place.
And thus nobody spoke of it. For if even the memory of the place and what had happened there was erased, then perhaps the place, too, would simply... disappear.
Out of sight, out of mind.
"... Is that also why you're in such a hurry?"
The sudden question that pierced the silence caught everyone unawares. Eyes turned to look at the source, and found that Devon Rustfield, his intense stare now a proper glare, had thrown it at the back of Jake. The older boy narrowed his eyes a little bit, masking a pained expression that was about to break through.
"What... do you mean, Devon?" Jake asked. "Dude, the only reason I want to get there fast is because Nevada---"
"Yes. Because of Nevada. But... is that the only reason?" Devon pushed forth, catching up to the boy in lead. "Are you sure it's not also because of what you always talk about? How Remmie and Angie are leaving us behind? How they're always moving few steps ahead of us, never for us to catch up? Are you sure... are you sure this isn't also just a chance for you to catch up to both of them, a good excuse to go to those places they warn us away from? Because you want to stand side-by-side with them, not always be led by them?"
The words were harsh, but not without merit. Just about everyone in the group had heard Jake talk about it once or twice. How he felt that both Remington and Angelica moved in a realm of their own, and thus, how the rest were never properly equal with them. Unlike Tommy or Nevada, it was unsure if it was because he harbored feelings for either of the girls, but nevertheless... he had said it. So the idea of having an excuse, even if it was as macabre as this, to invade into that world they kept the group out of... it almost seemed like what the boy might use to his advantage.
Of course, it hadn't started at that, no. But when the chance came... yes. 'A chance makes a thief', so to speak.
Jake Briggs had just as much to prove as everyone else, even if he hid it.
"... No."
His response, however, was firm and slightly cold. The older boy turned his back to Devon and kept on marching forward, further up the slope of the forested mountain.
"It's not. I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that. I'm here because Nevada is my friend, and I want to help him. And if Angie's there, I want to help her too, dude," Jake continued to talk without looking back. "The reason why we're going... why I'm going... is because even though they say no, Nevada is just as important to me as he is to them. And I want to help. Any way I can. Even if they think us as useless in this situation... I wanna help, dude. Somehow."
Surprisingly enough, a somewhat bitter chuckle emerged from Jake's lips.
"It's like that thing Angie always talks about. You know? That thing?" The older boy said. "How there's someone waiting for her she has to help. A sister 'up ahead' she has to save, no matter the cost. And that's why she's doing all of this, to prepare herself for that day, because she has the conviction. Because she's preparing herself for the hardships to come. Even if it'll hurt."
Jake nodded to himself.
"I'm also preparing to get hurt. Because my conviction is to also save someone important to me."
With those words, the group fell silent once more.
It was hard to say how many of the eight youngsters believed what Jake had said. Some might, some might have not. But they did understand that he was prepared for whatever was up ahead, and he was willing to put himself in risk because of it - because of Nevada. And that was something they all could agree to. If they hadn't they wouldn't have come here, and instead, they would have obeyed Remington's orders and waited for her at the A.D.'s. As they walked forward, they all weighed on the risks in their mind, thought about what might be up ahead and what it might cost them... but eventually they all understood that they would have never forgiven themselves had they headed back now.
Thus, each in their own way, they agreed with Jake - even if they might not have believed him.
And so they put one foot after another. They continued to climb and they continued to invade deeper and deeper into the Ghostwood.
Of course, what they did not know at the time was... had they known what truly would happen, and the extent of what would happen, more than one of them might have stopped in their tracks and turned back home.
--- Yet they did not.
So they trudged forward.
Above them, the canopy of trees slowly swayed in the winds streaming down the slopes of the White Pine Mountain. Dreary, gunship-grey clouds hung low and sailed towards parts unknown, unloading their cargo of slowly drizzling, chilling rain over the town of Road's End and its vicinity. For anyone outside in this weather, if they were not dressed properly, that cold would seep into their very bones and burrow so deep that it would take hours to get out, even with the warmest of fireplaces. And out here, in the wild, that effect was even more pronounced.
Despite the day having started not too long ago, it was as if shadows were already growing, becoming longer and growing dogs' fangs that distorted their edges - made them appear far more malevolent than they probably were. The old, ancient trees creaked as if they were crying, and the rustling of leaves sounded akin to slowly creeping hands gently rubbing against old bolt of silk.
The sounds of the town were far away now - so far that they could not even be heard. Gone was even the sight of Road's End and its buildings nestled at the bay. Even the cliffside where the white giant of the town, that odd lighthouse they all knew, had disappeared into the rain. From this far up, looking back (if one could see through the trees at all) it was as if a massive patch of fog had just swallowed everything up. There was nothing more in the world. Nothing more than them, the woods and the ever-present slope that just climbed higher and higher. And the only sound to really accompany the group and their footfalls was the cawing of a crow somewhere far away. Rest of the forest... was silent. Silent like a cemetery.
It wasn't only until hours later than Jake finally spoke up.
"--------- We're here."
Words that sent shivers down everyone's spines - shivers that did not come from the cold or the rain.
No, they came from the sight that lay before them.
A massive yew tree, standing in the middle of a dead clearing. Blackened grass, blackened leaves, dry and cracked soil. A frozen, stagnated slice of something dark that refused to disappear from the memories of this town. No, it was wrong to even call it dead. After all, whatever is dead will eventually turn to ash proper and fade away. Nothing here had faded away. It was like whatever had died refused to decompose - instead becoming some sort of macabre display case of something horrible that had happened a long time ago. A testament to what sort of secrets could be hiding in a place you thought you knew.
And at the center of it, was the yew tree.
Leaves like puddles of crude oil.
Twisted trunk of ashen bark.
A frayed noose slowly rocking in the dead wind.
An over it all, like a thick, suffocating blanket... a feeling of wrongness that burrowed into one's very bone marrow.
And the only bit of colour in that whole blackened world was---
"-------- Angie!"
Letting out a surprised, horrified scream, Rachel sprinted forward, having been the first to realize the white shape that had collapsed onto the forest floor near the middle of the clearing. Indeed, there, down in the ground, was the shape of a certain older girl they all recognized. Silver hair, light blue eyes, light frame... she was definitely one of the two people they had been after. And upon that recognition, everyone else started to move as well. The group hurried forward, like in a bad dream, the time having slowed down to a crawl. They all reached out for the one person they thought they'd never see like that - her powers spent and down for the count.
But as Rachel reached her first, as the girl knelt besides her... something else happened.
A noise.
A strange sort of beeping, crackling noise that was the stuff of nightmares.
And it came from the backpack of Albert Roslin, whose eyes widened in horror and surprise.
"Radiation...?" The boy muttered, looking at the clearing with disbelief. "In here? But... why? I thought---"
--- That was as far as he got.
The others who were sprinting towards Angelica as well?
--- That was as far as they got.
And as for Rachel Halloway, right next to the girl?
--- That was as far as she got.
Because on that very moment...
... Something massive slammed into Rachel, sending her flying and crashing into the trees outside the clearing.
The sound of the redhead hitting a tree and dropping to the ground with a thud was like a gong in the ears of those present. They saw how her unconscious rolled around once, blood trickling down from her scalp. Her chest rose, slightly, indicating that she was still alive... but no longer responsive. A scream echoed somewhere from within Patricia's throat, but they were barely able to hear it - and even that sound was stiffled as one-by-one, the eyes of the group fell upon the dark, looming silhouette that had attacked them out of nowhere. A giant shape, a blot of pure darkness in the center of the dead clearing. A massive form whose every breath let out a cloud of steam through which a single red eye, like an ominous star, shone with malevolent fury.
"-------------"
It was a giant.
There was no other word for it. A giant. A monster. A nightmare.
And they could all feel existencial fury that radiated from it like a scorching hot aura.
It was uncontrollable rage.
Like a deep, searing wound that screamed out in pain.
Whatever that thing was, it was in massive amounts of pain - and the only way it could try to ease it was to destroy everything around it.
Three seconds stretched into eternity as the group gazed with fear upon the giant.
Until...
"Run--------!"
Jake's order resonated loud and clear in the air, acting like a starting pistol of a race.
From there, everything was chaos.
Tommy turned tail in the face of the monster, yet one of the tentacles lashed out, drawing a deep cut into his back that painted the forest floor red. Yet still the braid-headed boy sprinted back towards the edge - but not to get away from it all. No, instead, his eyes were dead-set on the two smallest figures of the group. With one desperate dash, he made it all the way to Eliya and Patricia and grabbed them both into his arms, before continuing his dash towards the treeline.
Behind him, the beast let out an ear-piercing screech, a roar of agony.
"You bastaaaaaaarrrdd---!"
Crimson shadow was upon it.
Coming down from the heavens with a furious lunge, Devon Rustfield buried his Der Nagel deep into the creature's flesh, anger making his crimson eyes vibrant and burning.
Yet though he drew acidic blood that scorched the clothes of those near him, one of the tree-trunk like arms rose. It rose, and it fell, swinging down and crushing him underneath its massive weight.
"Devon!"
Albert screamed, seeing his friend get buried into the soil with a single strike. He did not understand what the boy had done or how he could have moved so fast, but even with that mysterious power, he had been defeated with a single strike.
Meanwhile, the taller boy had managed to make it all the way to Rachel to check up on her. Luckily, it did not seem she was grievously wounded - but it would definitely hurt when she would wake up.
But at that moment, as Albert turned his eyes back towards the ensuing chaos, he saw it.
One of the tentacles of the monster opened up and set forth a burst of high-pressure liquid, like a shot from a cannon.
Desperately, he threw himself over Rachel, to guard the unconscious girl with her body.
"Ghhh--! This monster---!"
Seeing her friends get pummeled by the kinetic shots of the liquid cannon that the monster wielded, Max hoisted her rifle upwards and aimed it squarely at the monster's face. She didn't have to understand what it was to know that there must have been some way to hurt it - and right now, the only immediate thing that popped out to her was that single eye at the center of its head.
"Stay still you bastard...!" Max muttered as her finger quivered on the trigger. "Come on come on come on...!"
Unlike before, the monster was now on the move. And not because it had started chasing after them all, now.
Instead of running after the escaping teens, it had found something that could stop its wrathful charge.
The most unexpected opponent.
--- The soft-spoken and calm Samuel Lowgate.
Wielding an armor and weapons Max had never seen before, Samuel bopped and weaved through the monsters strikes, managing to counter and riposte at almost every turn. Though no matter how me times he struck, it didn't seem to affect the creature at all. It bled acid, eating through the forest floor and the blackened grass, yet it did not slow down. It came back even twice the fury, even twice the ferocity, and then---!
It struck, faster than before, and almost managed to catch Samuel unawares. With a desperate move, he managed to block the attack by expanding the Arma Christi he had been carrying into a much larger wooden pole.
During that time, as their bodies collided, Samuel suddenly felt it.
The same thing that the others must have felt, too.
The familiar sensation in that aura of anguish.
The voice in that screaming cacophony was all too known to him, as it was to others.
His weapons and hands faltered, just for a moment, because in that split of a second, he understood.
The identity of that giant, it was---!
--- Yet that standstill was something Max had been waiting for.
"Die you freak---!"
Shouting that curse, Max pulled a trigger and sent a bullet flying. It whistled through the air as if in a slowed down movie. Cutting down the distance in mere fraction of a second that was, to their eyes, like the slowest of crawls, and yet---!
Blood.
This time, it was actual blood.
Not this acid-like substance.
Actual blood.
"--------------------!!!"
And the monster screamed, howled in agony.
Strengthened by its pain, it crushed Samuel's defense and rammed him against the ground with its massive fist. Then it reached around, caught a hold of the first thing it got into its hands, and swung it towards Max, intending to throw the item.
Only, it was no item at all. What the monster caught was Jake Briggs, who had tried to sneak up behind the creature to find a weak spot. And what it had taken hold of was his hair.
There was a disgusting ripping sound as the silver mane that Jake had been so proud of was ripped unceremoniously, leaving him with only the torn remains.
And then the boy, thrown like out of a cannon, collided with Max and the two teens were sent flying into different directions.
"N-no..."
Desperately struggling to his feet even though that singular strike had rattled his bones as if they were broken, Samuel gazed up at the beast before him. He saw how its tentacles formed two more cannons - one which kept shooting at Albert who desperately endured the pain to protect Rachel, while the other opened a barrage towards Tommy who threw himself in front of Patricia and Eliya to protect them. He saw how it raised its left hand and practically swatted away Devon who had gotten back up, looking like he was suffering from a major concussion. The boy was thrown so hard against a nearby pine tree that he went through it, causing the thing to topple. He saw how its ominous red eye, bleeding crimson, hatefully focused on Max who had most likely broken her foot during the collision with Jake - and Jake who couldn't even get up thanks to the searing pain coursing through his body and his head.
Samuel, try as he might, found it hard to even lift his weapons.
What a riot.
What an utter failure.
He was supposed to be an inquisitor and yet... and yet...!
--- Right now, he was a mere shadow of his brother, who would have surely found a way out of this nightmare...!
Yet, as the soft-spoken boy prepared himself to charge at the monster again, to buy even a little more time before it reached Max...!
"-------- I told you guys not to come."
At the edge of the clearing stood a single girl.
In her hands was a gun.
A twisting, spiraling weapon that radiated energy that overwhelmed even the aura of the monster ahead.
The girl was plain. She was dressed plain. She did not seem all that special.
Yet the fierce look in her eyes was enough to give the giant a pause.
"But... I guess you wouldn't be you, my friends, if you hadn't."
With sadness, the girl with the gun looked at the carnage that had been wrought. How beatend and battered her friends were, how much they were hurting. Lastly, her eyes set to the downed form of the silver-haired older girl. That made her brow knit together into an even more furious look, as if something in the sight itself had caused anger to well within her.
"... Goddammit Angelica. This isn't where you're supposed to fall. You've got a sister to save, remember?" The plain girl spoke quietly, between her gritted teeth. "You talk all big about killing your heart to ensure the future, yet look where you are right now..."
Then, as if a decision had been made, the plain girl turned her eyes towards the monster.
"Hey. You."
She called out to it.
"This is between you and me, isn't it? So leave the others out of it," the girl said, lifting the gun she was holding. "If you don't... I won't hesitate to use this."
Silence was her answer.
In that bleeding crimson eye, the girl could see it. The monster ahead would not stop. Anguish was bleeding out of it like a wildfire, and it would continue to hurt everything around it to ease that suffering even just a little bit. It was like multiple voices were shrieking silently within it, trying to claw at their own throat just to be able to breathe - yet finding no reprieve. This beast would not stop unless it was stopped, for the madness and howling ■■■■ within it could not be quenched.
Thus, the girl came to a decision - just as the monster did.
"--------------!!!!"
The nightmare roared.
And the girl...!
"---- Fine! I'm sorry, but you're leaving me no choice!"
The giant ran.
Like a whirlwind, like a freight-train out of bounds.
But it was not fast enough.
The gun had already been trained at it.
And with a squeeze of the trigger...
"----------- I'm sorry!"
Remington Hartley sent a bullet flying through the air.
It was like a jackhammer or a wrecking bell had hit the giant. It flew backwards, having been hit by a metaphysical cannon instead of a revolver. The massive form stumbled, nearly fell, yet it struggled and stayed upright - despite the gaping hole in its armor made out of living tissue.
So Remington bulled the trigger again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, the giant's back hit the blackened, dead yew tree at the center of the clearing. The monster heaved heavily, gurgled its own blood, yet it refused to die. Even the terrible powers of the gun the girl was wielding were unable to bring it down. Each bullet hit, without a fail - and each strike was fatal. But the biological armor that the monster was building took that death and discarded it. The form was alive only by sacrificing more and more of itself each time it was struck.
And now even that way of escape had been cut of.
It had ran out of power, and Remington knew it.
Thus, with tears streaming down her face, she took a look at the anguished monster once more and...
"... I'm sorry..."
Uttered those words before she pulled the trigger a sixth time.
A massive ripping sound echoed through the clearing. The form of the giant burst through the Old Hangman and cut the tree in half with sheer kinetic force. That final, sixth shot had thrown the creature backwards with such much force that it had gone through the dreaded tree and beyond it, and with a groaning that sounded almost like moans of the dead, the tree began to fall, toppling over and crashing into the surrounding forest with a massive sound, leaving behind only a pitiful stump where the symbol of fear had once stood.
Everything... was silent.
The forest.
The clearing.
The monster.
And the teens who had bore witness to it all.
Until...
"---- Guys!"
With a horrified cry, Remington dashed forward, running towards the wounded. She arrived where Max, Jake, Samuel and others had gathered more or less, and knelt besides the tomboy in black. At the same time, she threw aside the gun she had been holding and it bounced off the dead forest floor, flying away from everybody's reach. With tears in her eyes, Remington started sobbing apologies of not making it sooner and promising that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened she would be there to protect them. Just from her voice it was clear that whatever facade of determination and anger she had shown before was already crumbling and what was revealed from beneath it was the girl they all knew.
A worrywart that constantly fussed over the safety of her friends.
A person with boundless empathy who would cry tears for anyone's sake.
A trusted ally who would defend those she knew till her last breath.
That was Remington Hartley, after all. Even in a situation like this, she was her normal self.
But... it was not her that Samuel's eyes were glued to.
No, kneeling there, his strength spent, the boys eyes idly, as if it had been a draw, watched with curiosity at the discarded revolver that now lay on the ground. No, not just the revolver. There was something else there too, wasn't there?
A hand.
A humanoid hand, shrouded in darkness.
One that had emerged from the smoldering corpse of the giant, covered in blood.
A hand that reached out for the gun, caught a hold of it, and with agonizingly slow movement, slowly raised it, and aimed it...
Aimed it...
Straight towards...
"DON'T KILL HER, NEVADAAAAAAAAA!!!!"
Patricia's scream pierced the veil of dream for them all. It was a haunting sound that would stay with everyone present for as long as they lived. Yet, at the same time, it was the only thing that snapped Samuel out of his stupor and allowed him to rush on his feet.
Rush on his feet.
Dive forward.
Reach out with his body.
And protect---!
Everything was shrouded in static, like a broken TV screen.
Something in Samuel's head hurt, pulsated and felt painfully raw. He could feel the cold mountain air within his skull. The ground was dyed red below him. His vision was equally crimson. Again, it was hazy. But not like a dream. This felt like he had been sitting alone in a completely dark room, trying to make out the vague shapes moving on a TV screen he sat far too close to.
He saw something.
He saw the others, those who could still stand, stare in horror at the corpse of the giant.
He saw how a humanoid form --- no, a mockery of humanoid form, rose from the ashes and debris of the destroyed tree and the destroyed monster.
A creature far more vile than the giant had ever been.
A one-eyed shape of disaster.
Like a hole of pure hatred in the reality.
It rose up.
It stood up.
It breathed in air.
Crows laughed at the edge of his hearing.
Like a Thought made Real.
Then, that silhouette of hate took in a deep breath...
... And locked its eye to Remington.
It happened too fast.
It swung something.
A weapon?
The girl, look of surprise still on her face, dropped down on her knees.
A deep cut ran through her body.
Others, those still conscious, were desperately trying to claw their way towards her.
Screaming her name.
Samuel wondered if he should have screamed too - yet for some reason, his body did not respond to any of his thoughts or commands.
Instead, he watched.
He watched as the Sneering Silhouette lifted its weapon.
Over its head.
How it screamed out something incomprehensible, yet enough to freeze the hearts of those who heard it...
--- And brought down the sword.
... What?
Something... had parried the strike.
Someone... had parried the strike.
Somebody... had parried the strike.
Who?
Oh.
Him.
For some reason, Samuel knew he should have been shocked, yet he could not feel thus.
So he could only watch.
As the humanoid mass of hatred screeched again, taking hold of its weapon and measuring its opponent.
It's opponent, holding a weapon Samuel had never seen before, did the same.
The two stared at each other for just a moment.
And then...
... They clashed.
That Sneering Silhouette and Jake Briggs.
Jake.
How was this possible?
Samuel thought he had known his friend. The older brother who always looked after them. He, who was the most normal of them all. Yet... he had this side hidden within, all this time?
This protector?
The one who, at the very last second, had arrived to save the day?
The silhouette raged.
It could not defeat the opponent before it.
With a hateful screech, it lunged forward, intending on bisecting the opposition in two.
But instead, it found only empty air.
And a brilliant weapon that cut through it mere fraction of a second later, piercing all the way to its darkest core.
A shining beacon of brilliance in the most heinous of darkness.
Like a falling star, bulleting through the dark of space.
That was what it was.
A Falling Star.
Here to illuminate and banish the shadows...!
And so... the silhouette fell to its knees. It breathed heavily, raggedly, unable to grasp enough air.
The one who had opposed it, the youth with the torn silver hair and a weapon of light, did the same... but instead of falling to his knees, he collapsed on the ground completely - as if drained of whatever strength he had left.
That left just two of them.
Remington Hartley.
And the Sneering Silhouette.
Samuel's vision started to waver. It was swallowed up by the darkness of the unconscious. He could feel an endless abyss overtaking him.
Yet, as his vision faded and as the world around him disappeared... for just a moment, he could hear footfalls more clearly than anything before.
Footfalls against dead grass.
Someone, either close or far away, made their way to Remington, who was still kneeling.
He could hear the girl gasp - but not out of surprise.
Out of sorrow.
"So... i-in the end, it was... you...?"
Remington softly murmured.
What answered her was another sound.
The sound of someone pulling back the hammer of a gun.
"But................... Why?"
Remington asked.
Her answer was the only sound she would never get to hear.
That of a gunshot, so mundane compared to what had happened on the clearing, ringing through the forest.
And as the boy sunk deeper and deeper into oblivion...
As he tried to claw his way back to light in vain...
As he attempted to make sense of what he had just witnessed...
He saw something else in that darkness.
A shapeless figure, a human figured, covered from head to toe by a hooded cloak.
A figure whose face he could not even see.
But... he heard the figure's voice.
A calming voice.
One that said...
"------ No more."
Softly, yet firmly.
"I won't let this place harm anyone... ever again."
As if it had made a decision.
"Not if I preside over it instead."
And for some reason, Samuel...
... He felt like he could leave that in the hands of the hooded figure.
Thus, he sunk deeper into the abyss of the unconscious, into the darkness where he thought he'd never wake from at all...
Originally Posted by Ramia Ramalsaqr
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