The pace was quick, the scratching of many arms on the cold earthen walls with fingernails bloody digging into any purchase to climb from down below. The bellowing continued, growing louder and louder like a wounded animal pretending to be strong to fend off potential predators.

All of Foxtails senses were standing on end, telling her to run away and cut her losses. She had Peepers. She lost Itzhak. She had Jin. She lost Foreigner.

“It seems that my work is not done. And to think I’d be forced to clean up after Arenas’s mess.” Drusillia prepared for combat, readying her cross and spreading out the tattered scarf further out to catch onto an invisible current of wind.

Your work is done, girl! Run away and forget all of this… Sink into your comforts from before and enjoy playing hero for your little friend… the wraith growled out its whispers. Whether it was self-preservation and cowardice or an analysis that there really wasn’t much left for Foxtail here, she measuredly cast these thoughts aside.

She pulled deep onto the thread in her heart and found a sullen courage to push forward.

Foxtail was going to give Foreigner the mercy of death. Whether he was Arenas or Foreigner, neither of them deserved to succumb to such frailty, a shattered psyche bent and broken by the whims of the City.

Her combat attire was recalled, each piece of tessellated glass wrapping neatly around her face and skin, the arms crawling within and without her cape providing an odd sense of comfort, a morale to lean on that pushed her just a bit further.

They wanted her to hold out beyond the fatigue she so clearly wanted to succumb to and be the hero they were looking for.

“I’ve handled one of these before. You look like you could use the help.” Foxtail replied. Drusillia gave her a quizzical expression but did not deny her assistance.

“Where are they…” a laborious moan cried out from within the hole, “I was a god…” Long and thin hands clutched the holes opening, a slimy black ichor pouring out of the skin like tar. The frame was bone thin and the joints were bent at odd angles, everything reaching up into the skies and stretched gaunt to do so. Arms after arms poured out of the hole attached to a chitinous slender body. The face was contorted and emaciated with bones protruding from its skull in a crown-esque pattern, its mouth agape with broken jagged teeth.

“It was my purpose… it was my birthright…” The mouth did not move as it spoke. Instead, the voice echoed out from the maw as if multiple voices were caught in its throat, a deep well from which there was no escape but crying out for help.

Drusillia waited, looking at Foxtail to see what she would do.

Foxtails legs were quaking. She told herself she was waiting for the creature to act, playing it safe to avoid any of its supernatural abilities from hurting her or killing her outright.

The creature continued to emerge from the hole, it’s body beginning to coil around itself with clawing arms, the segments akin to a centipede.

“I am a king… I was meant to surpass them all… surpass and overcome…” The creature bellowed, each statement a low guttural moan carrying through the wind and reverberating through the metallic warehouse walls.

It looked down at the both of them with bulbous bloodshot eyes.

“Where are they?” It asked in a long hissing whisper.

Neither of them said anything.

“Why? Why are they gone?” The creature was in apparent distress now. Its body swayed from side to side like an unstable tower just looking for a place to fall.

Drusillia stepped forward. “They’ve left you Arenas. It’s so disappointing to see you like this…” Her voice trailed off, her focus shifting somewhere else on its body.

Foxtail scanned its chitinous skin and saw sections boiling.

Meat squelched as a hole on its body formed.

“You can help me ascend…” The creature groaned.

A rope of grasping arms shot out of the hole towards Drusillia. She stood in place and activated her black cross. Metal wires formed a barrier around her and moved at a rapid pace. Fingers caught in the wire were shredded to mince and yet the arms kept coming, a pile of meat and bone piling up in front and around Drusillia.

The creature teetered to the side and stretched its incomprehensibly long body out onto the wall, hands pulling it forward to envelop the both of them in a coiling motion.

Foxtail shook her head and jumped into action. She ran towards the segments on the creatures body and pierced into it. It felt like puncturing layers of loose gravel with crunching and squelching the deeper her blade penetrated into its form.

She dismembered a segment and caused the rest of the body to shake uncontrollably, the creature letting out a long and low groan, shaking tar all over the ground. The arms on the dismembered segment began to writhe and the stump began to bubble.

Foxtail doubled back. Arms bloomed out from the stump and grabbed at the segment it was separated from, reeling the two halves together and binding them in the black ichor that poured from its skin.

She watched as the black ichor solidified into a dense defensive ring. She turned back and saw that Drusillia was unable to make a move. The rope of arms kept coming, more streams actually attempting to penetrate into the barrier and it looked like they would succeed. The wires were beginning to gunk up and slow down, the area of defense surrounding Drusillia becoming smaller and smaller as the piles of meat and bone piled up on all sides like a tomb.

“I’m being buried alive here!” Drusillia yelled.

Foxtail scanned for the segments that were attacking her and dove into action again. Her weapon wasn’t built for cleaving or hacking away but she did her best to cause the segments to slough off the main body.

Drusillia took that reprieve and caused her wires to explode outward, leaping out of the pit and onto open ground. She swung the giant weapon overhand and crushed a chunk of flesh, a satisfying crunch giving to a squelching sound, the end of the cross covered in tar.

“Fuck!” Drusillia yelled out as she tried to pull the weapon out from the shallow pool of tar. Seeing more streams of arms burst towards her position, she cried in frustration and gave up the weapon, leaping away.

Foxtail didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t like Mary. It was barely responding to their attacks and each time they caused a response, it casually repaired the damage. It was also immense, slender segments of its body still emerging from the hole, causing the warehouse to begin feeling congested like they were packed into a food can.

Before Foxtail called out for the retreat, she heard a cacophonous bell ring through the City.

The Evening Bell.

An idea popped into Foxtail’s head.

“Hey, Banshee! Follow my lead!” Foxtail didn’t wait to hear her response. She teleported to the doors entrance and ran out onto the streets.

She could see gutters popping open with the sounds of Sweepers scraping their weapons on the pavement.