(Stan’s thoughts) They finally got the bastard down.

  Almost finished with his concoctions, he had already broken down the metal locks that jailed the whisky and wine bottles. The floor was littered with broken shards of gss, Stan crunched it like leaves in te autumn, trickling and shivering his pointed ears.

  Limping with both feet, he used his left hand since his right was shattered, with the bones of his knuckles piercing beneath his skin. Along with his lungs, his breathing worsened as his wheezes molested his throat.

  (Stan’s thoughts) Got to … stay alive …

  His eyelids flickering, he pushed every ounce of muscle within his feet to carry on. Having dozens of bottles littering the cocktail table, they were already ced with alcohol, or vapors of ethanol Stan would like to call it.

  Most of the caps of the bottles were sealed, leaving the ethanol vapors to swirl around the green and white bottles. With no ventition, pressure increases, leaving the ethanol to be slightly unstable for good reason.

  And all around the floor in which Stan limped, regur beer littered the floor, trailing off vapors of ethanol to molest his nostrils. Using every bottle of alcohol within his reach, it was safe to say…

  (Stan’s thoughts) I guess me and Luke are the same when dealing with pests.

  Grabbing the alcohol bottles one by one, the metals warmed from the unstable pressure that swirled throughout the bottle. Pcing them onto the floor, with the butt of the bottles stained by the leftover beer, Stan was halfway done before…

  He looked up to see the charger starting to break free.

  The nylon rope that bound its front legs broke off, leaving the beast to regain its mobility from its upper body. Stomping on the floor, the quake traveled throughout the rest of the cart, leaving Stan to almost crumble.

  (Stan’s thoughts) Shit! I still need more time!

  Unable to stand, Loraine id her back against the metal floor, her eyes slowly succumbing to exhaustion. As if their luck was disappearing, both of Gary and Diego’s triggers failed to send out their precipitating bullets, their magazines running dry.

  Falling back to pick up Loraine, they pced their sidearms into their holsters. Pcing Loraine onto his back, Gary walked back once the beast decided to pin his eyes on the chubby man.

  Limping its way toward him, Alexandra fell forward, leaving her to sm her body onto Fred’s. Dragging themselves on the ground, all of their muscles ached the more they tried to pull the beast.

  Seeing all of this, Stan scrunched up his eyes.

  (Stan’s thoughts) I need more time … no …

  Noticing the only alcohol bottle whistling with emptiness, he grabbed it by the top, before smming it onto the table. Relieving millions of gsses from their duty, one side of the bottle was cleaved off, while the other…

  Took the form of a knife.

  (Stan’s thoughts) I’m sorry Hope.

  Pcing his right hand onto the table, he began to slice into his right wrist. Back and forth, back and forth, blood began to spurt out like a waterfall.

  Stopping 1/4th, he let the gss stick to his skin, as he bit the insides of his cheeks as hard as he could. His blood swelling onto every gum inside his mouth, he gulped and swallowed, in the hopes that his cheek blood would rush to his right arm.

  Back and forth, back and forth, some of it spttered onto his face. His eyes widened, and he continued to rip and tear the insides of his cheeks, swallowing his flesh like candy wrappers.

  Cutting halfway, he stopped again.

  (Stan’s thoughts) It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! This is hell! This is hell! Take the pain away! Away the pain! Take! Pain! P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-!!!P!p!!p!p

  His cheeks went numb. Unable to direct the pain to his mouth now, the rest of it traversed to his wrist.

  Now knowing what to do with this pain, he just stood. Frozen, unable to thaw his feet, he kept his bnk stare on the gushing blood that poured from his sawing. Needing a reason to push forward, he looked up to what he called his friends.

  Time slowed down for him, he gazed at Gary shooting all he had at the charger, his back against the metallic wall. With Diego shooting at its back, each bullet cmmed out of the barrel, piercing through the fake air as some of it lodged into the beast’s fur.

  While Fred and the female spartan pushed their bodies to the limits, their rope uselessly stopped the beast from targeting Gary.

  They were in trouble, and he made a vow.

  The pain continued to scald deep into his wrists, and he still wielded his bottled gss knife, the bde lodged into his wrist. Tightening his fingers around the bottle, he began sawing again, going back and forth while pinning his eyes on the beast.

  His anger rising, he directed his pain to his flushed red cheeks. His wrist spraying his face with blood, and his clothes were drenched with it, painting it red while churning his lips downward.

  3/4th done, every nerve within his body fred up like a siren, pinching his skin as if ten fire ant colonies bit into the insides of his skin. His head shaking violently, tears rolling down from the corners of his eyes, red plunging his scleras a deadly crimson.

  Sawing, sawing, back, back, forth, forth; he felt his lower body trying to paralyze himself. But in the end…

  The gss scraped against the wooden table, causing time to flow regurly for him.

  Pulling back his right arm, his eyes took a whiff of his blood-soaked hand, bloated and swelled like jello since his knuckles were shattered earlier. Blood poured out from his wound, he had only five minutes max to treat his wounds, so…

  (Stan) Everyone! R-Retreat!

  Bending down to pick up his rifle, he pced the chamber of it onto the edge, his finger already on the trigger before he pulled it.

  Sending out the st of his ammo onto the back of the beast, the charger turned around. Its nuzzle growling and wrinkling from the AR bullets, he sniffed once, as a trail of blood thickened from the direction of…

  Stan’s gooped cut-off hand.

  (Stan’s thoughts) Sweat is weaker than perfume, and perfume is weaker than blood.

  Their chance to tuck tail and run, everyone ran to the next train compartment. Pushing their bodies the most they ever could, their feet blistered under the harsh metal floor.

  (Stan’s thoughts) Can I make it…?

  Leaving his assault rifle behind, he carelessly pced it right next to his right hand, before limping his way to the door. Jabbing his left hand into his pocket, his fingers gripped around a metal ball, ced with rough edges which scraped his skin.

  Pulling it out, the metal ball had a pin on top of it, vished in green camo.

  Flicking the pin with his thumb, he arched his elbow and used all the strength of his left forearm to chuck it into the cocktail bar. Fate against him … he began to fall …

  His body giving up, the soles of his feet, his knees, legs, and arms; all succumbed to the colossal exhaustion he built up. With the grenade on the verge of exploding, and the charger all too busy to pounce onto the bar, his pn worked.

  But at what cost?

  Time fluctuated slowly, as his body began to lean back, with the tips of his heels pressuring onto the floor. Ignoring the shouts from behind, his eyes gazed up at the metallic ceiling above, his eyelids finally closing shut once and for all.

  (Stan’s thoughts) Oh, man …

  On the halfway point of smming onto the ground below, he felt his stomach wrapped around something sharp. Too exhausted, he couldn’t twist or turn to see who it was, but he let his arms stretch.

  Falling into a deep sleep, the rope that wrapped around him was conjoined with razor bdes, with the anchor being both Alexandra and Fred. Time flowing regurly, everyone else let their faces pale from the exhausted Stan, seeing his amputated hand gush out more blood.

  (Fred) And push!

  The two of them used every minuscule muscle with their bodies, letting them protrude and gleam under the early night as the elf…

  Flew toward them at light speed.

  And at the same time, the grenade unleashed a fury of air from out its metal containment, sending not just itself, but the unstable ethanol bottles …

  To unleash a herculean explosion.

  With the charger smashing into the cocktail bar, the trap was complete, as the beast got caught up in the lethal explosion. The entirety of the train cart got engulfed in the explosion, the shockwave sending everyone on the other side…

  To be sent flying.

  Having their arms wrapped around Fred’s yo-yos, Fred had already pulled in the unconscious Stan, seeing his body rub against the metal ground. Tinnitus rang endlessly against their ears, and all of them took in the sight in front of them.

  (Gary) Holy shit.

  By its own doing, the train cart connecting them to the bar compartment disconnected, leading to the rest of the carts being left behind. A huge plume of fme and smoke plowed out from the cart, the compartment was already engulfed in fmes.

  The exploded cart fading away into the early night, the sun had already settled down into the horizon, creating a pinkish sky from the west.

  All of them settling their butts down on the floor, they all huddled around Stan, whose right arm continued to gush a never-ending stream of his blood. Diego, who had a couple of bandages inside his pockets, took them out and gave them to Fred.

  (Fred) We got to heal him now…

  Wrapping the thin cloth around his gushing wound, Gary and Diego began pcing their fingers along the edges of the cloth, putting pressure to stop the blood from squeezing out. All three of them worked on him like a patient being sent to the ER.

  Finalizing their procedure, the white cloth pressurized on his amputated right hand was enough to keep him alive, until Hope does the rest.

  Continuing to sit on the floor, all of their bodies drenched with their sweat, except for one woman. Having her back pced against the wall, she let her knuckles shiver under the floor, as she bnkly stared at it.

  (Spartan Alexandra) Why did he do that …?

  Fred turned to look at the depressed woman, her eyes clouded with eyebags circling her eyelids. Pushing the ends of his feet, he walked toward the curled-up woman, her arms cuddling her knees.

  Standing in front of her, he rubbed the back of his head with his right hand, his nails caressing his scalp. Looking up at him, she had her mouth slightly open, followed by her eyes clouding with a pinkish red.

  (Fred) I’m sorry for your loss.

  She stretched her right foot while having her left leg clutched to her body. Moving both her arms to stable on top of her knee, she had her eyes averted to the floor.

  (Spartan Alexandra) You should be worried about your friend. And why are you speaking to me so sympathetically? I’m an enemy to you guys…

  (Fred) Is that what you all agents think?

  Fred knelt with one knee, his hands clenched together while pushing up a friendly smile. His messy silver hair covering his forehead, he extended out his hand, his palm rusted with blisters and calluses from their ordeal earlier.

  Alexandra let her mouth snoop air to her lungs, leading her lips to parch.

  (Fred) A month prior, we all worked and banded together to save Lagefor. You know, you all know we aren’t the ones to bme for this mess.

  (Spartan Alexandra) Then who is?

  (Fred) I would say it, but you would argue with me on it.

  She let out a dry scoff from her lips, tucking her left leg more deep into her stomach and chest. Her fingers scrunching up and down her pants, she did it to relieve some form of anxiety within her, her nails grazing the tips of the fabric.

  Pulling back his hand, he rubbed his hands together before turning his body toward the rest of his friends. His feet still glued to the floor, he gnced back at the sulking spartan, her lower eyelids on the verge of failing to enact as damns.

  (Fred) Instead of going after every man you seek, how about pinning your attention on one man?

  The back of her head slowly y on the metal wall.

  Unwilling to bind them or take them head-on, she bnkly stared at the night sky, unveiling stars for her and the others to see. Letting out a single tear from her left eye, it rolled down her cheek and dropped onto her open wound hand.

  Her hand numbed, her joints and nerves all worked like clockwork, watching the others nurse the barely alive Stan. Fred, who had already walked to his friend group, knelt and pced his pushed-down eyes on the sleeping Stan.

  (Gary) Damn, bastard cut his hand off…

  (Diego) Just to carry on with his gamble.

  (Fred) I hope Hope doesn’t give him a harsh lecture.

  Loraine soundfully slept on Gary’s back, her right cheek brushed against his neck as she drooled her saliva onto him. Wrinkling his face, he pressed his palm onto Stan’s forehead, feeling his skin blister from a high fever ravaging the inside of his body.

  Getting himself up, he turned to both Fred and Diego, who also followed his example.

  (Gary) Diego, Fred, you guys carry Stan. We’re going to continue on our push.

  (Diego) At this hour?

  (Gary) Everyone else has probably done their parts. Besides, we’re on a time limit.

  Both men nodded firmly, as Diego and Fred carried the unconscious Stan with both of their exhausted and swollen arms. Without stopping them, Alexandra continued to stare at the sky, keeping Fred’s words in the back of her mind.