Thick, black plumes of smoke billow from half a dozen battered houses across the desolate neighborhood, each pillar rising towards the cracked sky.

  Derrick Marlow keeps his eye glued to his rifle scope, scanning the ruined labyrinth of streets for survivors from the Mama Bear Syndicate reinforcements. So far nothing. Bloodied bodies and wrecked vehicles are scattered on the streets and lawns, and now a heavy silence hangs over the subdivision. There aren’t even sirens or flashing lights heading towards them.

  Derrick releases a slow breath, feeling the ache in his wings and hard, familiar burn of nicotine withdrawal behind his sinus. For a moment, Derrick allows himself to believe the objective is secured and Jayson and the others are on their way out of the meat grinder. He lowers his rifle and quickly lights a cigarette.

  Right as his cigarette is lit, a subterranean BOOM reverberates through the neighborhood.

  Derrick freezes, the lit cigarette hanging in his mouth. In the distance, just past the skeletal treetops marking the forest’s edge, a plume of dust and debris rises in a lazy arc. Too big for a simple munition, too localized for a gas main. He peeks through his scope and sees a large, bulky abomination with big horns and a frenzy of tentacles carrying Lexia and Claribel into the forest, shaking the trees and scaring away songbirds.

  “What the frick…?” Derrick’s feathers ruffle and he keys the radio, his voice tight. “Sky Eye, we got a situation. Something big just left the factory carrying Lexia and Claribel.”

  “Copy that. Do you want backup?” asks Bridgette.

  “I’ll pursue. Keep an eye on the immediate area for any stragglers.”

  “Copy that.”

  Derrick closes his radio and then takes flight. When he reaches the area in question, he lands on a roof and observes the damage with the full moon’s light shining on him. His breathing is harder than he cares to admit, and it is only made worse by what he sees.

  A cement wall has blown outward, and a trail of large and deep footprints mark the ground with gashes from thick claws tearing into the damp ground. The trail is marked by broken branches, and the double layer of laughter echoes in the dark forest. Derrick takes a deep suck of his cigarette and puffs out a heavy blob of smoke. Fumes and smoke pour from the gaping hole the Beast made, and Derrick flicks his cigarette away and switches out his magazine.

  “Forget this,” says Derrick. He keys his radio again. “Sky Eye. Change of plans. I am going to need help.”

  *****

  “Need to keep going. There’s got to be something in this forest I can use. A cave. A house. A bunker. Maybe a house above a cave that has a bunker in it? Yeah, that’ll be cool. A perfect place for my new lab and my toys,” rambles Ramsey.

  Lexia’s eyes dart frantically as Ramsey carries her and Claribel through the forest. The dark tree tops partially cover the full moon. Through the remnants of Reel Sight fumes and venom-addled vision, the pines appear to sway and bow like spectators at a grotesque parade. The blue cracks in the night sky pulse overhead, casting glows and shadows across Ramsey’s mutated form.

  The undergrowth crunches and the moist ground squelches beneath Ramsey’s massive weight as he charges through the forest. With each thunderous step, Lexia and Claribel bounce against each other, their bodies grinding together in his tentacle grasp.

  “Lexia, do that thing with your hands,” says Claribel between her heavy panting.

  “What thing?” says Lexia weakly.

  “That weird thing you did at the spa when I kidnapped your sister and then you broke apart the lobby with magic.”

  “My sister? … That was my mom!”

  “Oh…” Claribel seethes and wiggles pathetically in Ramsey’s grasp. “If it makes you feel any better, your mom aged very well.”

  Lexia headbutts Claribel’s face, making the snake swear angrily.

  “Don’t be fantasizing about my mom!” yells Lexia. “And for the record, I can’t do the thingy with my hands because someone, not naming any names, bit my hand with big fangs and pumped me full of venom!”

  “You started it!” says Claribel.

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  Claribel headbutts Lexia’s nose.

  “Aw, crud! Why is it always my nose!” cries Lexia, sniffling blood back.

  “Because you’re a bitch!” snaps Claribel.

  Lexia kicks Claribel’s shin, and Claribel returns the kick. Then Lexia kicks her again and Claribel kicks Lexia again, and then Lexia kicks her again and Claribel kicks Lexia again, and then Lexia kicks her again and Claribel kicks Lexia again, and then Lexia kicks Claribel’s shin again.

  “Stop kicking me! We’re about to be tentacle raped by a monster straight from a hentai!” says Claribel.

  “Then don’t go calling me a bitch when you work for a mass murdering drug kingpin that profits off the misery of other! Hell, you’re a Fixer! Your body count has got to be huge! That means you build the misery for Mama Bear to profit off of!” says Lexia.

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  Claribel stiffens. “Yeah… My kill count… It’s big… Super big…”

  Lexia narrows her eyes. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “You hesitated.”

  “I hesitated because I was thinking about the number of people I killed. Easily triple digits.”

  “Lies and deceit! This day could not possibly get any worse.”

  Claribel’s jaw drops, and she snaps her head between Lexia and Ramsey’s abomination form. “We’re about to be tentacle raped by a monster, and you’re upset about me not being accurate about my kill count?”

  Lexia rolls her eyes and looks away. “You lied about your kill count. Which means I’m about to be tentacle raped with a liar! What other secrets are you keeping from me?”

  “Are you serious right now!” yells Claribel.

  “I don’t see how our relationship can heal from this. The betrayal I feel is worse than the thought of this pulsing, slimy, appendages worming their way through me.”

  “Your insane. Like, legitimately insane. Were you dropped on your head as a baby? I mean, seriously, what is your malfunction?”

  “You’re my malfunction. Just bite the guy and melt him with your venom already. I really don’t want to be around you right now.”

  “If my venom didn’t work on you, it won’t work on Ramsey!”

  “It didn’t work on me because I injected myself with a triple dosage of anti-venom. Now bite him!”

  Claribel’s red slitted eyes briefly bulge from Lexia’s revelation, but right after, they narrow, and she twists in Ramsey’s grasp, moving with the tentacles until she is nearly upside down. She sinks her fangs into the slimy appendage, piercing his mucus covered hide and its muscular core, pumping venom directly into Ramsey’s mutated flesh.

  Ramsey howls in agony and throws Claribel away, her half naked body slamming against a tree and falling face first into the damp mulch.

  Simultaneously, Lexia flicks her knife into existence and saws at the tentacle constricting her chest. The blade severs the connective tissue, and foul smelling ichor splatters across her fur.

  Ramsey’s agonizing howl shakes the night air, and he too throws Lexia away. She hits the ground and bounces down a ravine, putting her vision and body in a blur of dark colors and pain. She lands face first in a small creek, splashing her in cold water and mud. But she remains motionless. Her body throbs, her bones ache, her fingers twitch, but she cannot bring herself to move.

  A sharp set of fingers grab Lexia and yank her out of the water. Lexia gasps and shrieks as she is dragged through the mud, and she grabs the arm of her assailant, trying to wiggle her way out.

  “Relax, I git you!” says a familiar voice.

  Lexia stops struggling and looks up, chest heaving and body wrecked with bruises, cuts, mud, and blood. Her wide, brown eyes focus on the person above her, recognizing the voice, but not the face.

  Bridgette Baggs smiles and puts her ghillie suit over Lexia. “There you go. Nice and warm now.”

  “Who are you?” asks Lexia.

  “I’m the neighborhood mailman. Or mail-woman in this case. We briefly met back at the rendezvous point. I was the lump.”

  “Oh… Where’s Jayson and Derrick?”

  “I have no idea where Jayson is, and Derrick is going to fight the Beast.”

  *****

  Topside, Ramsey staggers around, howling and cursing. The bitten tentacle bubbles and rots, snapping loose and flopping to the ground, writhing like a decapitated snake. The venom Claribel injected continues to spread, causing Ramsey’s flesh to bubble and pop in areas near the bite. He rips off the tentacle Lexia damaged, and new ones sprout from his wounds.

  The forest floor and Ramsey’s body are covered in his blood, and he seethes and looks around, each step making a heavy thud. He quickly sees Claribel trying to crawl to safety, and he snarls and marches towards her.

  “I’ll have to teach you a less on manners,” snarls Ramsey.

  Suddenly, there is a crack and loud pop, and one of Ramsey’s eyes explode. He recoils, clutching his bleeding face and howling in agony.

  “WHAT THE HELL!? NOW WHAT!?” screams Ramsey.

  More explosive rounds detonate against Ramsey, and he shields his face with his bulky arm while tentacles are severed from the detonations. He looks up and sees Derrick flying above him, his rifle aiming at him. Ramsey growls, rips off thick branches from nearby trees, and throws them at Derrick.

  Derrick dodges them, so Ramsey coils his body, and launches himself up. Derrick swerves out of the way, but one of Ramsey’s tentacles wraps around Derrick and pulls him down as they fall. The pair crash through branches and slam into the ground, creating a cloud of wet mulch and chunks of dirt.

  Ramsey chuckles painfully, his blood dripping from the venom still dissolving his flesh, and now tendrils are wiggling out of the hole where his eye used to be.

  “There… I got you… Stupid bird,” pants Ramsey.

  Multiple bullets thump against Ramsey’s gut, all useless, but it still brings him to arch his brow and give Derrick a confused look.

  “Seriously? How are you not dead yet?” says Ramsey.

  Derrick smiles, blood dripping past his beak and his wings snapped in different areas, wetting the ground in more blood. His face is torn in parts, soaking his white feathers and rustic clothes in crimson, and in his quivering hand is his pistol.

  “A long time ago, I put a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. My weapon blew up my hand and tore up my mouth and throat. Doctors gave me some medicine for it,” says Derrick.

  Ramsey groans irritably. “PLOT ARMOR?”

  “PLOT ARMOR.”

  The area around Derrick darkens, and sharp, shadow-like blades tear through Ramsey’s flesh, with a particularly large one severing an arm. Ramsey howls, blood spraying from his wounds. He stumbles away from Derrick, who gurgles out a laugh, and winces as he gradually rolls to his hands and knees, his arms quivering and his blood pouring from his gaping wounds.

  Derrick looks at Ramsey, his vision swimming, and he turns his focus to Claribel, seeing her red eyes watching him, wide and wet, from a bush. He lifts his taloned hands and flicks them towards Claribel while Ramsey is distracted, holding his stump arm and cursing up a storm.

  “Get out of here,” says Derrick.

  He knows she can’t hear him from how weak his voice is and how loud Ramsey’s painful cries are, but Claribel gets the message and disappears into the forest. With her out of sight, Derrick looks back at Ramsey.

  “You’re a real ugly sonuvabitch, ya know that?” says Derrick.

  Ramsey growls, gripping his destroyed arm tightly. “I’m going to enjoy gutting you.”

  Derrick stands up on wobbly legs, the area darkens again, and Ramsey’s eyes bulge.

  “Wait! Hold on!” says Ramsey.

  More blades extend from Derrick’s shadow and impale Ramsey, and a dozen tentacles burst from the stump that was once Ramsey’s arm. The Beast breaks the shadow weapons and charges Derrick, roaring as more of the dark weapons slash and stab him. His claws pierce Derrick’s chest and he rams him into a tree. Derrick’s body jerks upon impact, but he keeps smiling, unmoved by Ramsey’s enraged snarl.

  “I’m going to tear you apart, you damn cheater,” says Ramsey.

  A surge of electricity suddenly burns Ramsey, igniting large portions of his flesh. He cries out, and before he can react with violence, a burst of energy crashes against him, sending him flying into the trees across from Derrick.

  Derrick slumps to the ground, wheezing and pressing his trembling hand against his wounded chest. His eyes lift, and his smile disappears to a slightly annoyed sneer as blood bubbles past his beak and through his nostrils.

  “About time you showed up,” says Derrick.

  Mortimer ignores Derrick, keeping his glare focused on Ramsey, his gloves sparking bright. Next to him is Jayson, covered in soot, blood, and healed scratches across his chest that leave four pink lines. The Hobo Warrior Bunny’s jacket and shirt are missing, fully exposing his skeletal frame, yet he still has his scarf wrapped around his neck.

  “Sorry. Dingus here tried to kill me. And failed. Again,” says Jayson.

  “I’m not really in the mood for your snide remakes, Hobo,” says Mortimer. “Let’s just kill Ramsey so me and Claribel can get out of this godforsaken place.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “I HATE ALL OF YOU!” wails Ramsey.

  Ramsey jumps forward, shaking the ground, and he roars, spraying bloody slobber everywhere as his back rips open, sprouting dozens of tentacles. The Hobo Warrior Bunny and Mortimer’s eyes widen before narrowing and forced smiles stretching on their busted lips.

  “Well, this is going to suck,” says Jayson.