His chainsaw ripped his stomach open, spilling his entrails like the contents of a bowl of lasagna thrown through the air…

Adam threw himself to the side as the bandit leader’s chainsaw hissed through the air. Nausea wobbled back and forth inside of him and the faux scent of blood and guts filling his nostrils. No, it was real. The chainsaw had nicked him, barely.

Seconds in and he already knew this battle was unlike anything he had experienced. Behind the motoric roar of the chainsaw, he heard screaming and chanting and the squelch of armaments tearing through flesh.

Were his allies winning or losing? He couldn’t tell—their battle cries and techniques all blurred together into a jumbled mess. All he could do was put his faith in Lucy, Saria and the others. They were strong, he knew. Beat the snot out of him for months with their freaky Astraean training. They’d win, lest he beat them himself.

Besides, he had his own opponent to fight.

“Stand still, you brat!” The bandit leader shouted, swinging his chainsaw in an arc. Adam dodged again, kicking off his feet with a burst of red. He’d faced down flesh, knives and even fire, but a chainsaw was another ordeal altogether.

Fucker killed me twice already. Adam though. Every vision drained a portion of his red. His opponent was bigger and stronger, but not faster.

Gotta get through his guard. Knock the chainsaw away.

This battlefield out in the empty streets was too large for his liking, Adam realised. Too much room to move. The bandit’s face was scrunched up behind his cloth mask. His veins bulged like mud lines on his skin. Adam knew what kind of person this man was.

He slid to a stop, putting on a brave smirk. “Hey, you’re pretty good!” He called out, putting on an accent of fake sportsmanship, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Jarod! I’m gonna cleave you in two!”

“Well, Jarod…” Adam began, taking a deep breath. “Your mother was a drug-riddled whore and Raz is a gutter-trash weak piece of dogshit.”

Then, before Jarod could respond, he held up his palm and charged it up with the Pactbearer’s light. He stared Jarod directly in the eye, his smile even wider now, and said, “Come and get me.”

Jarod howled profanity that almost made Adam wince. He turned around and dashed towards the buildings on the side, listening to Jarod’s unhinged screams of rage, his chainsaw revving up even harder. Hook attached, the line was cast out. Now it was time for the lone sinker.

Adam feigned entryway into the alleyways in between. The bandit leader followed, his footsteps thundering behind him. At the last second, he whirled around and rolled to the side. He found his target—a metal rod sticking out of the side of the wall, perhaps once holding a cloth sign. The chainsaw sank into the gap, its blade entering the alleyway. Jarod tried to pull out, only to scrape the blade against the walls.

Bigger. Stronger. But not agile like Saria, or as relentless as Lucy. Adam kicked off the pavement and charged forward. He smashed a palm strike into the bandit’s side. A scream of pain. The Pact from Saria dug a glowing red point into his flesh, which Adam punched with his left.

The chainsaw fell from Jarod’s grip. It clattered to the ground, the motor screeching against the hard stone.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Adam said, still smirking.

His only response was to swing a right hook in Adam’s direction. Too fast to dodge, so he blocked it with his arms. The impact was larger than he expected. He was flung back, tumbling against the wall. The pendant flared and he ducked before another fist took off his head.

“I ain’t done yet!”

Right, he was strong. Adam charged his fists with the red and threw himself back into the fight. Grappling was out of the question. If he got caught inside those beefy arms, he was done for. He shuffled back and forth, using the movements Brigid had taught him.

Strike whenever possible. Create openings and escalate them. When fighting opponent in armor, locate the chinks and pressure them. The fight blazed on. Seconds flowed into minutes as bruises and wounds kept up their front.

It was going well until Jarod grabbed his fist in mid-swing. Adam froze, then cried out as Jarod twisted it. More than the pain, it was the knowledge that he had left himself wide open. And true to his thoughts, Jarod barraged him with a round of blows until his head was spinning and stars were in his vision.

Fuck. Shit. Goddamn.

This was his fault. He let his guard down. One reversal led to doom—he knew it, and now he was paying the consequences. Even so, he tried to struggle. The kick that was sent into his temple took the wind out of him, even as the red shielded against the damage.

“You’re dead.” Jarod hissed, one punch away from cracking his skull. The pendant flared. The same, familiar switch was flipped in his brain. The red crept up Adam’s arms, mixing with the gold, and he roared with the last of his strength. He threw Jarod off him. Then he began pounding against at his face. Weak points were created, then quickly caved in.

Eye, nose, mouth and eventually, the neck. Something burst like a wet balloon. A torrent of iron scent wafted into his air. Adam stared down.

His hand was plunged into the bandit leader’s neck. The red mixed with the crimson of the blood, flowing like a leaking faucet. Jarod burbled something through the blood splashing out of his motuh. Adam couldn’t tell what it was. A light dimmed, then faded, from his eyes.

Adam tore out his hand out of the corpse’s neck. Ichor splashed all over him. He stared down at his hand coated with filth, disbelieving.

“What? Get up.” He said, kicking the corpse. His own words sounded hollow to his ears.

“Was that it? Seriously? I thought you were gonna kill me…”

Somewhere in the distant past, he remembered screaming how he was going to kill his opponent. Then he would beat him up and send him to the hospital, before laughing it off with a beer. Because his opponents had never died.

Until now.

“Oh god.” Adam clutched his pendant, coating it with ichor.

I did this. I did this. I…

Something was clawing at his throat. The empty eyes stared back, accusing. Rot was settling in. The lifeblood was cooling and fading. He cupped his mouth to his hands. Terror clawed at his throat, forcing his lips open and…

Mary gazed at him from the ground, the last loving smile locked in rigor mortis, flies gnawing at her dead flesh, the blood coated on her dress seeping into the floorboards.

And even though she said she loved him, her corpse said otherwise, accusing him of being slow, weak and useless and pathetic and it was all his fault.

His fault.

His fault, his fault, his fault, his—

Adam collapsed and retched, loud and violent.

“And stay down!” Saria gave the bandit one good whack on the head with the butt of his rifle. “Anyone else?”

“That’s the last of them.” Lucy said.

“So we’re done?” The bait girl said, emerging from her hiding place. She wasn’t good in direct combat and had stayed in the shadows, providing support with a crossbow.

“Yes, Kerry, we’re done.”

Kerry sighed. “Thank the stars.”

The rest of the bandits were strewn around the place, incapacitated or otherwise. The battle had been hard, but it ended in a decisive victory for West Junction. Lucy took out a radio and spoke into it. She nodded once, then hung up.

“Right, let’s get these guys tied up.” Lucy said, producing a large rope from her back. Training with the War Maidens had taught them many good knots and positions, which had been then passed onto West Junction.

“Wait, where’s Adam?” Saria asked. She could still feel the pulse of the gold from their pact, but as she scanned the area she couldn’t see him.

“Here.”

The boy emerged into view, his clothes bloodied and torn. He had a sullen look on his face, his cheeks pale.

“Did you win?” Saria asked. When the boy nodded, but did not say anything, she frowned. “Are you alright?”

Again, Adam did not speak, as if carefully choosing his words. That was weird. Adam was always the type to say whatever on his mind. Stars above, that incident with Brigid in their first meeting had almost given Saria a heart attack.

He gestured down at himself. “What do you think, Saria? He’s standing here and I’m not.” He said. “I eviscerated him.”

“Sheesh, just say so next time.” Saria said. Yet, she couldn’t help but shrug the feeling that Adam’s words were forced. Maybe she needed to discuss this with Lucy later on.

She did not see Adam see at the blood coating Lucy’s machete and recoil at the sight.

They got to work binding the fallen bandits and stripping them of any gear. Recycling was important, especially when all the public services broke down. The clothes, weapons and tools weren’t anything special, but they would find a nice home in the West Junction armory. It was all going smoothly, with half the team working and the other recuperating from their wounds, until Saria took out a series of papers from a bandit and began rifling through them.

They were plans for trading and all manner of villainly, things that Saria didn’t care much to delve deeper into the field. Then she reached the last paper, where a couple of photographs were attached. She stared. Her entire body trembled. She marched right up to one of the bandits and kicked them in the face.

“Talk!” Saria barked out.

“Whuzzat?” The bandit cried, his nose dripping, “Whaddaya want?”

“Who is this?” Saria growled, holding up the photograph. “Why is she here?”

“That’s our healer girl?” The bandit said.

“Healer girl…?”

“She’s a skinny little thing. Doesn’t talk much. Hates our guts.”

“Where is she now?” Saria demanded.

“Raz keeps her locked up nice and tight in his fortress.” The bandit continued. “Tried giving her some stims to improve her work, but she refused so we had to force her down and inject them into her veins.”

Saria unholstered her rifle and smashed its butt into his face. She bashed again as Lucy and Adam rushed up to pull her off.

“What the fuck, Saria?” Adam growled.

“Madeline.” Saria whimpered, her limbs going slack.

“What?” Lucy gasped.

“Madeline was alive. She was alive this whole time. My baby sister is alive.”

Tears gathered at the corners of Saria’s eyes. “I knew it. I told you so. I told you all so.” She said. Desperation and horror crossed her face. “And Raz has her.”