Allen hissed as the world began coming back to him, bringing with it a very familiar and very unwelcome sensation. He held his head and silently begged the pounding to stop, groaning when it refused and looking around for his hat.

He was laying on one of the gun cages in the back of the bus, the heap of scrap metal that had previously been their ticket to safety now resting on its side. Its interior was warped beyond measure from the battering it had taken, glass shards and firearms now strewn throughout. His companions were likewise scattered, and he struggled to get up and see if they were okay. He grit his teeth as the action earned him a stinging pain in his torso and looked down to see what the damage was, grimacing at the fresh gouge which lay just below his other one.

Clarity came slowly, bringing with it the events preceding their crash. His rifle had chosen the absolute worst time to malfunction, and panicking the way he had was the reason he’d missed the rocket. Now they were without transportation and-

“Oh God, Skeeter!” he said, quickly getting up.

He looked down the length of the bus towards the driver’s seat, once more noticing the horrifying amount of blood which now dripped down the floor towards the windows and limping towards it. A boot sticking out from between the seats made him aware of where Arnold had landed. Twilight lay against what had previously been the ceiling, still breathing but not moving.

He continued past them, unable to do anything for them at the moment. The many bruises he’d acquired in the rollover made themselves known as he went, but he ignored them. If the amount of red at the front was any indication, Skeeter was dealing with much worse.

He arrived at the front in time to hear the mechanic groan in agony and swore loudly at the man’s appearance. He was bone-white with a bloody hole in his midsection, which he was vainly attempting to plug with his hands. Headwear forgotten, Allen took off his scarf and bunched up either end, carefully lifting up the larger man’s wounded side to shove one end under his back. He cringed as the action yielded a pained yelp, then set him down on the scarf so that his own weight would control the wound in his back.

He placed the other end over the front and applied pressure, earning another groan in response. “Sorry, buddy. This is all I can do right now.”

Arnold groaned behind him, telling the world in no uncertain terms that he was not getting up any time soon. He shook his head, another oath escaping him as he realized he was on his own. Yet another followed close behind as he heard several doors slam outside, making him aware that their pursuers were forming up.

He shook his head in panic, facing the ultimate worst-case scenario. Their only means of protection and transportation had been rendered useless, one of his best friends was hanging onto life by a thread, the other two were completely unconscious, he himself was battered beyond belief, and armed soldiers were preparing to storm their wrecked vehicle and finish them off. Oh, and there was an anti-tank aircraft hovering outside with machine guns primed and ready.

Allen ground his teeth together as his panic and hopelessness were replaced by anger. “Why couldn’t you just stay dead?” he muttered.

Skeeter, who had been staring blankly down the aisle, looked back up at him with a frown. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Try to stay calm. The slower your heart beats, the more time you have to live.”

The other man nodded and laid his head back down, then suddenly began chuckling weakly. Allen looked up from the wound to give him a confused look. “What’s so funny?”

“Them magical ponies with their top hats and their sparkly dresses and their bow ties and earrings. Funniest damn thing Ah ever heard.”

“Dude, not the time or place.” he replied, turning to stare out of the back door.

“Yeah…yeah, probably not.”

Silence fell over the Outlaster, broken only by the beat of propellers outside. Allen continued watching the back, briefly wondering why the chopper didn’t just hose them down with another flood of armor piercing rounds. Skeeter stared at the ceiling, his expression blank, before suddenly addressing his caretaker. “Al…”

“No.”

He looked over at the black-clad assassin, who refused to show him anything but the back of his head. “Al, listen-”

Allen turned towards him, two tears rolling away from his eyes. “I’ve been listening. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t ask me the same fucking question, and I make the same fucking promise…that everything’s going to be fine.” he said, looking down at the barely functional makeshift bandage. “And then I sit there, waiting for paramedics to come and take the body away. I can’t do that again. I…I just…”

“Allen.”

He looked up, receiving a hard look from his friend. “Ya’ll need to be honest with me. Am Ah dyin’?”

Allen said nothing, instead looking back at the ground.

“Al!” he croaked, putting as much force into his voice as his weakened body would allow. “Am Ah gonna die ‘r not!?”

The other man remained silent. Skeeter opened his mouth to try again.

“Yes.” Allen said quietly. “You’re going to die here, Skeeter.”

Skeeter stared at him for a moment, then leaned his head back. “Alright, cool.”

“Cool?” Allen repeated, looking back up at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Ain’t no sense bellyachin’ about it.” he said calmly. “It ain’t up to me anymore.”

“But-”

“Ya wanna know what the old man asked us when he woke up in the hospital?” he interjected, Allen immediately shutting up and staring at him silently. “He asked us to be honest with him. He didn’t want us to sugercoat nothin’ or beat around the bush…he wanted us to give it to him straight. Why? ‘Cause he knew it’d be better fer all of us if we just acknowledged it…that the first step to healin’ was acceptin’.”

Skeeter looked him dead in the eye. “But that ain’t what you did, and Ah’m ashamed it took me so long to notice. Ya’ll never got over what happened to yer folks cuz you ain’t let ‘em die yet. They’ve been living in yer head fer the past four years because ya’ll done refused to let ‘em go. That’s gotta stop.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Yes ya can. The next time ya see Logan, you tell that lil’ rascal the truth. Tell him exactly what’s ‘bout to happen and help ‘im accept it. Promise me yer gonna do that…fer his sake and yours.”

“But-”

“Promise me.”

He stared at his friend for a long time, unsure whether taking his advice was a good idea or not. He feared the look he knew he’d receive from his younger sibling if he told him that he was about to die, and was more tempted to simply say no.

But this wasn’t about him anymore. This was Skeeter’s last request, and he knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t honor it.

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I promise.”

The mechanic smiled. “Good. Now Ah’ve got another important question for ya.”

“What’s that?”

“Ya think Ah’d look cute as a pony?” he asked with a grin.

Allen stared blankly at him for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Dude…what the fuck?”

“Ah got to thinkin’ after we broke outta south.” he said with a small shrug. “Thought if…y’know…we couldn’t get back to the garage, probably have to start over someplace else.”

“Like Ponyland?”

“Ya’ll say it like Ah’m crazy r’ somethin’.”

Allen shook his head and smiled. “You’d probably look about as cute as Wallace Shawn.”

“Don’t ya’ll go spittin’ on Shawn like that!” Skeeter replied with a wheeze. “At least he don’t look like an Eminem copyright case!”

“Fuck you, dude!” he shot back, laughing just as hard.

Laughter poured out of the previously silent Outlaster, both men unable to stop themselves despite the direness of their situation. Allen let his head hang low, his ability to breathe having almost completely deserted him. The rest of the world…Twilight, Arnold, Frost’s men, the chopper…temporarily ceased to exist as his mind was filled with thoughts of Skeeter robbing clueless businessmen at a casino.

After a few minutes, Skeeter stopped laughing. Shortly afterward, Allen also stopped, and the bus was silent once more.

((((((*******))))))

“What do you mean ‘not working’?”

Ford simply rolled his eyes as he turned to face her. “I feel like that’s a pretty universal phrase, corporal.”

“Then let me rephrase the question: Why are you sending the three of us into the lion’s den?”

“Trust me, telling Gates to hose the thing down real quick was my first idea, but the coolant system for the guns isn’t working and they’re overheated.” he replied. “Look, don’t be so melodramatic. Even if any of them survived, they’re not going to be in any condition to fight you. Just go in, confirm their deaths, and grab the body so we can move on.”

The corporal gave him a dirty look before she went to retrieve her gear and comrades. Ford simply shook his head at her nigh-insubordination and turned back to survey the medical teams.

Normally, he would have sent more people into the enemy craft, but the acquisition of the traveler put them on a timetable. Once they found out she was dead, the creatures that controlled the Breach gate would be unlikely to open it again. They would have one chance to successfully infiltrate Ethis, and they’d all need to be at peak physical efficiency.

That was why he currently had most of his people behind cover, taking a few brief minutes to repair the damage caused by Flynt and his friends.

He approached one of the injured soldiers and addressed the medic helping her. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as you might think, actually. The impact from the round was probably the worst part.” he replied. “As far as wounds go, this one is actually quite mild. With enough pain killers and proper binding, she should be ready to cross over once we rendezvous with the main force.”

“Good.” he replied, turning to the soldier. “So how’s it feel?”

“Numb, thankfully.” she replied with a shrug of her good shoulder. “I think a few of the other guys have broken bones. Jones seems to be doing the best. His armor took the brunt of the force from the round.”

“Good to hear.” he said, looking sidelong at the rocketeer being fussed over by one of the other agents. He then heard footsteps and looked behind him, the corporal and her teammates coming to a stop in front of him.

“We’re moving in.” she said simply.

“Have fun.”

She rolled her eyes behind her visor and started towards the wrecked school bus, the two men under her temporary command following close behind. Ford stayed on the road, watching them begin the short jog to the objective.

“Frost to Sergeant Ford. Report.”

He slid the radio off his belt as he went to answer his commander. “We’ve got them, sir. They’ve rolled over and crashed into an electrical tower, and I just sent in a team to finish them off.”

“Why? What’s the point in stealing an anti-tank aircraft if we’re not going to use it?”

“The coolant system for its guns is malfunctioning. I would’ve recommended using missiles, but you said you need the body in one piece.”

“Thank you. How many did you send?”

“Three. Most of my people got shot up pretty bad in the chase, so that’s really all I can spare.”

“You might want to consider going with them. If Flynt’s still alive you’ll need every gun you can get on him.”

“With all due respect sir, you didn’t see the rollover. There’s no way in hell anyone could be ready for a fight after that.”

“I’m sorry, were you the one that got shot in the face by that prick? I didn’t think so.”

“I didn’t mean any-”

“If you remember from the briefing, Flynt is a bit more resilient than your typical mercenary. He went up against some of my best men, half an army to back them up, and walked away with barely a scratch.”

“Lucky him.”

“No. Not luck. Something much more complicated than that.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll bet my right arm that Flynt is not only still alive, but still in near-perfect health…and you and I both know why that bus crashed.” he said grimly. “Knowing how well he takes loss, I suggest you take some of the medical team and overwhelm him with sheer numbers.”

“Are you sure-” Ford began, but was cut off by the sound of automatic gunfire. He immediately turned his attention to the bus, watching the corporal fall out from behind the hood and begin scrambling back to her feet, only to be dragged back inside with a scream.

“What was that?” Frost asked over the radio.

Ford turned away from the scene and instead addressed his troops. “I don’t care what you’re doing! If you’re able, grab a gun and get ready!”

“Lieutenant! What the hell just happened!?” Frost shouted through the radio as patients and medical personnel alike began hastily donning armor and arming themselves.

“The team is dead sir.” he said briefly before changing channels. “Gates! What do you see!?”

“I’ve got movement.” the chopper pilot answered. “No clear visual, but someone is definitely moving around down there.”

“Do not take your eyes off of him!” he changed the channel back and addressed his boss. “Sir, it’s under control.”

“Can you see him?”

“He’s trapped inside the APC with-”

“Ford! Can you see what he’s doing right this very moment!?”

“No, but-”

“Rush him! RUSH HIM NOW!!”

“Run in and take him out!” he shouted to the soldiers in cover, who immediately sprinted out and towards the enemy craft, some shooting into the air to keep their target behind cover. His radio suddenly beeped, notifying him that Gates was trying to hail him on the other channel. “What!?”

“Target sighted! Target is ar-” was all he heard before a shot from Flynt’s rifle made him jump.

The running soldiers continued running, already a third of the way to the bus. Ford glanced between them as he tried to determine who was actually hit, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he realized that no one was injured.

What on Earth was…oh hell.

He slowly turned around, inspecting their air support. The Apache continued floating in place, a golf ball-sized hole in its blood-spattered windshield.

He lifted the radio once more. “Gates, check in.”

No response.

“Gates, respond!” he said again, panicking.

The pilot remained silent as his bird slowly dipped down toward his ground-bound comrades. Ford snapped back around to face the soldiers nearing the bus and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“LOOK OUT!!” he screamed as the chopper flew overhead, turning turtle as it went.

The majority of them turned around in time to notice the bird and scramble out of the way, the less fortunate few being either crushed underneath or eviscerated by the propeller. The grounded titan then exploded, sending flaming pieces of metal in all directions and causing several more troops to collapse as the projectiles collided with them. Ford peeked over the hood in horror at the catastrophe before him, before it was obscured from sight by the thick smoke billowing from the wrecked chopper.

No sooner had the smoke covered the area than the screaming began, Flynt using his new screen to ghost between his enemies and execute them one by one. Gunfire occasionally joined the cacophony as they attempted to fight back, or as their guns were stolen and used against them.

He quickly bolted back to one of the other SUVs, pulling his assault rifle out of the back seat and returning to his position of cover to peer at the wreckage through the scope. His aim snapped to a figure charging out of the smoke, then returned to scanning the wrecked chopper when he recognized Jones. A handful of others followed close behind, most with guns and one simply running for his life.

As quickly as it began, the screaming stopped. Ford’s breathing came in deep, shaky gasps as he continued to watch the smoke for any sign of movement, knowing that whatever came out of there now was an enemy. He heard what was left of his comrades do the same, a loud clicking noise farther back telling him that Jones had loaded his RPG and was aiming it at the smoke, ready to obliterate anything that looked like it wanted his blood.

They waited in a tense silence, all eyes darting around in search of the man in the black coat. The air was suddenly filled with gunfire as movement was spotted on the right, all triggers immediately staying as they realized it was just a rock.

Is he toying with us? Ford thought briefly. No. He was probably trying to fake out Jones.

More movement, this time in the center. He followed the motion with his assault rifle, his blood freezing when he saw the oddly shaped rock headed their way.

“GRENADE!” he screamed as he dove to the ground.

One of the vans exploded nearby, killing three and sending their rocketeer tumbling off the top of the one next to it. The sergeant scrambled back to his feet to aim at the smoke, then fired wildly at his right as Flynt flew behind the cover of an SUV and sank his dagger into the throat of another soldier. He then ducked down and rolled behind the cover of another car as the assassin took his most recent victim’s weapon and fired it at him, using his body as a meat shield.

He pressed his back against the car as he felt around his belt for his radio, finally locating it and ramming his thumb into the button. “Ford to Frost! Come in!”

He’d barely finished talking when his commander responded. “Sergeant, what’s going on over there!?”

“He’s killing us, that’s what! Please advise!”

He waited, but the other end remained silent.

“Marley, get out of the way!” Jones bellowed from nearby before howling in pain as he was shot in the ankle. He then growled, switched his grip on his weapon of choice, and swung the back end diagonally at his attacker. Flynt simply spun around him and stabbed him in the back, drawing another scream.

Ford, knowing he was next, pressed the button again. “Sir, please! For the love of God! Please advise!”

The rocketeer grunted as he took a blow to the face, then again as he was drop-kicked into the backseat of the van behind him. As he scrambled to climb back out, Flynt picked up the fallen rocket launcher and fired it in after him, watching both of them burst into flames.

“Fuck this.” he said at last, sneaking around to the driver’s side of his cover.

He got in and slammed his foot on the accelerator, his enemy spinning around in alarm and diving out of the way of the approaching vehicle. Ford laughed as he sped past and turned on a dime, once more facing the assassin. Flynt swung the launcher onto his back and then, to Ford’s surprise, held his arms out in a clear challenge. The lieutenant shook his head with a smile and floored the gas pedal, once more attempting to grease the maniac.

Both men locked eyes as the distance between them rapidly shrank, crimson glaring into hazel and vice versa.

Suddenly, Flynt hopped to the left of the car and latched onto the side. Ford yelped in terror as the door opened and he was yanked out of the seat, tumbling head over heels in the sand as his car rolled away into the desert.

They came to a halt about a hundred yards away from where they’d started. Ford looked around, his vision swimming from the fall, and noticed Flynt picking himself up out of the sand a stone’s throw away. He gasped and scrambled to get to his feet, his legs wobbly and uncooperative. A gunshot rang out and he hit the ground again with a yell, holding his exploded kneecap. He panted as he looked back to see Flynt approaching him, unslinging the spent launcher from his back.

He practically ripped the radio off of his belt. “FROST!! HE’S GOING TO KILL M-” he began, before said launcher was swung into his face, sending him to the ground. He groaned in pain, holding his fractured skull as Flynt raised the weapon again.

“Wait…wait!” Ford said, raising a hand to ward off the blow. “You don’t have to-”

The large metal cylinder came down again, replacing anything else he had to say with an agonized scream.

“I do, actually.” he said before bringing raising it and bringing it down again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

((((((*******))))))

Everyone in the trailer, Frost included, flinched visibly each time they heard the man’s skull crunch. The transmission eventually cut out, Ford obviously lacking the strength required to keep the button held down. Several minutes of shocked silence followed, the sound of an engine being the only thing to disturb it, until the radio abruptly crackled back to life.

“You know, this seems awfully familiar…almost like we’ve done it all before.”

Frost sat stock-still for a long moment before shaking his head at the radio. “You possess enough skill to single-handedly bring an entire city to its knees…and you squander it protecting some foolish little girl from an entire dimension away.”

“Maybe I’m just doing it to spite you.”

“Cute.” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have no idea the havoc you’ve caused by doing this.”

“I really don’t care. But you know what I do care about? My family. And you just hurt them again.”

“That’s hardly-”

“You better hope we never see each other again, because if we do I’m going to kill you until you stop coming back.”

Frost sat quietly as he heard the transmission end once more, listening to the soft static emanating from the device in his hand. Said hand began to shake with increasing intensity as his frustration approached the boiling point.

“FUCK!!” he shouted, standing and throwing the radio at the far wall, shattering it like fine china. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCKING FUCK!! GOTH GARBAGE PIECE OF SHIT!!”

The other troops in the command center looked on with mixed emotions as their commander leaned against the wall, hands behind his head and his back to them.

She was gone. They’d lost her.

They were now the most wanted men and women in the nation, potential charges ranging from damage of public property to treason and terrorism…and they had nothing to show for it. Even if he could dispatch reinforcements to the retrieval team’s last known location, their quarry could be miles away in any direction by the time they arrived. They were well and truly screwed.

Silence lingered for several more minutes, one woman coughing lightly in an attempt to break the tension. Frost finally spoke up, addressing his second-in-command.

“Lieutenant, you wouldn’t happen to have another miracle in your pocket, would you?”

He saw Larson shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t suppose you have another backup plan?”

“Nope.” he sighed. “We seem to be up the creek.”

A shrill ringing interrupted his brooding, making him growl as he dragged the offending device out of his pocket and answered it. “Who is this?”

“It’s August! What the hell happened!? Where’re your guys at!?”

Oh. Right. You.

“We’re sitting here…waiting for our pickup…and instead we get ambushed by like twenty cops! Look, you’re paying me not to ask questions, I get that. But is it too much to ask-”

“Hey August?”

“…Yeah?”

“You’re fired. Piss off.”

He hung up, the sounds of angry screaming vanishing instantly. Never again. Not with cases like him, anyway.

“He didn’t sound happy.” Larson remarked.

“You heard that?” he replied. “Yeah, screw him. He was less of a mercenary and more of a psycho murderer anyways. Plus, that fee was ridiculous.”

Larson simply nodded and put his hands in his pockets, looking over at the window outside.

Frost remained where he was for several minutes before finally turning to face what was left of his comrades. They all looked back at him, some with concern and others with an obvious question.

“Well folks…we’re sunk. With no means of finding the traveler, our budget completely cut, and the entire national government screaming for our blood; this mission now has zero chance of success.”

There was silence for a moment as the news of their failure sank in, until one stepped forward and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Frost walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Chin up, Pierce. This isn’t your fault.” He turned his attention to the rest of the troops gathered around him as he continued. “This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine. I’ve underestimated Flynt for the second time, and the operatives tasked with eliminating him paid the price.”

He lowered his hand as he looked around at each of them. “You put your faith in my abilities as a leader, and I’m sorry to say that I’ve failed you. I’ll understand if you choose to back out. I can negotiate your reentrance into society and absolve you of all responsibility in this matter.”

He waited, then felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face Pierce once again.

“I came here because I was told that the whole world was in danger.” he said. “I arrived with the intent of doing my part to save it. I’m not backing out now.”

Frost smiled at him before turning to the rest of his crew. “Does anyone else here share his resolve?”

He waited for a brief moment, then felt his smile widen as hand after hand was raised, marking each soldier’s loyalty to the cause.

“Thank you. I couldn’t possibly do this without you.” he said, then took a deep breath as he walked back to his original position. “While crossing the divide is still our top priority, we will have to alter our approach. Your realm, Terris, also has a Breach gate. It’s location has been lost in time, however, so we will need to find it…a task which will not only prove costly, but may take more time than we have.”

Larson stepped forward. “Do you have any idea where we could start?”

“No.” he said with a shake of his head. “The gate’s creation preceded this world’s continental drift, which will greatly frustrate our efforts. We will need the aid of a team of scientists, archaeologists, and historians if we’re to have any hope of finding it. With any luck, its location was recorded and preserved by-”

He stopped as his phone rang again, then looked up at the ceiling in disbelief as he saw the number. “Unbelievable.” he said angrily, answering it. “What part of ‘piss off’ did you not understand!?”

His second-in-command looked on in confusion as his commander’s expression transitioned from angry to surprised, then from surprised to gleeful. His confusion turned to interest at the other man’s next words.

“You have no idea how wonderful it is to hear your voice. How did you get this number?” there was a moment of silence as the mystery caller answered. “Was he now? Well, I guess he was good for something after all. Listen, I need your help finding-”

Larson put his hands in his pockets as he waited for the call to end. His interest only grew as his boss’ grin widened.

“You’re the answer to my prayers, I swear. I’ll be in touch.” he said before putting the phone away and turning towards them again, still grinning. “Scratch that, let’s find a gas station and refuel. Larson, I need a second head over here. Everyone else, continue as you were.”

The other occupants of the trailer looked at each other in confusion, then shrugged and did as they were told. Larson approached Frost and raised an eyebrow. Frost simply continued grinning.

“Do you remember Detective Granger, Larson?” he asked.

“Of course, sir. He was almost as good at hiding as Flynt.”

“Do you remember how I found out that he’d been investigating me?”

Larson was quiet for a moment, then smiled.

“What did I say? The answer to my prayers.”

((((((*******))))))

Allen panted heavily, head swimming as he limped back towards the bus, holding his midsection. He hadn’t bound the fresh gash in his side before going after Frost’s men, and the strain he’d placed on the wound had torn it open even further. Whereas before he could have gotten away with simply dressing and bandaging it, he was now going to need full-blown stitches, preferably before he passed out from blood loss.

He looked over as he passed the raging inferno that contained the charred remains of the rocketeer, promptly wondering if the gash was really his biggest problem.

I guess at the moment, yeah. he thought dimly, his gaze returning to the sand. Whatever. Sully can handle this when he gets here, provided one of those fuckers had a-

He looked up again and stopped, staring. Twilight stared back, her eyes wide.

He looked down at himself, noticing for the first time how much blood he was covered in, then looked back up at her. She in turn glanced to the left and right of him, taking in the warzone around him. He gulped audibly, beginning to feel the tension in the air.

“Twi-” he began, taking a cautious step towards her.

She ‘eeped’ and raised her hand towards him, blanched as she realized her magic was once more out of commission, and began cautiously backing up into the bus. “Please…just stay back.”

“Listen, I-” he tried again, stopping as she finally ducked back inside.

For a moment, he debated on following her in and explaining what had happened, then he sighed and instead started for one of the still-intact SUVs behind him. What had happened was he had proved to her that he had not changed at all in the past three years.

He was still just another monster.

Author's Note

Honestly, if I tried to apologize for how long this took to get out, the A.N. would be longer than the actual chapter. So I'm just going to say I'm sorry and move on.

Be sure to leave a thumbs-up if you enjoyed and leave a comment with your thoughts.

Love you guys.