“PHANTRANA!” Thomas shouted, sending back pools of phantom blood onto the ground behind, sending the ravenous masses that stepped on it slipping into a frenzy, slowing down the masses a bit more. Thomas came towards only one path forward: a tiny hole in the wall in front of him. It was about the size of a traditional air vent, and Thomas had no idea if it widened or narrowed after that. “Oh, God, I knew I wanted a small opening but this is not . . . good.” Thomas's knees were shaking in fear as he looked back—just a bit too late. One of them grabbed his face and pushed him against the tunnel wall above the small opening with a loud thud.

They were screaming and furious at Thomas, and soon he felt more hands grip his limbs and shove him back against the wall, lifting him higher and higher into the air as he thrashed and kicked, desperate to break the hold. But he couldn’t see a thing. He was literally flailing blindly. They were starting to bite at him, attempting to chew through his suit. “Phm . . . Phmtrmna!” Thomas attempted to yell as his voice was muffled by sweaty glitter-covered hands. Suddenly, a burst of phantom hands attacked the people holding him up, shoving them away and clearing the path as Thomas crawled into the hole in front of him, his last way out. He had gotten his head and waist through but couldn’t move his shoulders any further into the tunnel.

He was stuck. His legs were left flailing out in the open. Thomas struggled to breathe in the dark cramped tunnel as he felt something tear at his legs. “Curse . . . my . . . thighs . . .” Thomas struggled to breathe, slowly trying to inch his way forward, but he just couldn’t move ahead. His phantom hands were struggling to keep everyone from him, and he could occasionally feel pulling at his feet. And he was always hearing their screaming. “Oh, God! I’M SORRY I SAID RAVES WERE STUPID!” Thomas felt more tearing. The tape of his suit was coming apart. “It’s not because I think it’s bad in theory; it’s because of the sweat! I’m distinguished, I don’t want random people bumping into me all the time!” Thomas pleaded. He felt his tape tear away and teeth sink into his leg. Then another set. Then another. “OH MY GOD, I’m sorry I lied. I used to go to raves all the time and I thought they were cool and fun and now I associate them with my younger self whom I resent!” Thomas was almost crying now out of fear and pain. Luckily, being stuck meant they couldn’t pull him out.

If he could just get through this tunnel, he’d be safe. There’s no way they could get through it, but the more Thomas squeezed and squirmed, the more it seemed like there was no way he could get through it either. He needed to pull out all the stops. There were a few rocks in front of him that seemed to be the ones keeping him back. He had no idea if it even led somewhere, it may just end at a certain point and Thomas would be stuck until he died there. But he had no other options. He was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Thomas drew his phantom hands away from the mosh pit that was currently chowing down on his thighs—and not in the fun way—and began punching the rocks in front of him as fast as he could. At the same time, he began lubricating the tunnel with phantom blood, slowly giving him a bit of extra movement as his hands got to work digging. Thomas could barely feel his legs, and he heard the sounds of wet munching behind him—along with the constant drone of their cries of pain. He would almost feel sorry for them, except for the fact that he knew the cannibalism was not caused by the Civ’s influence. They were just nasty people—at least in Thomas's experience.

Finally, the cavern began to widen, and he could feel his shoulders squeeze ahead. “You know what? I take it back! You guys are all ASSHOLES and PERVERTS!” Thomas shouted behind him as he filled his foot with phantom energy and kicked one of his pursuers in the face, sending himself flying through the tunnel like he was going face first down a waterslide. But before that happened, some of them grabbed hold of his powered legs as he flew off at breakneck speed, hearing a small pop as he went down the waterslide. Or in this case, a ghost-blood slide. Thomas could feel the rocks ripping through his suit and skin as he sped through, friction burning his arms. He couldn’t see a thing. He braced himself for when he inevitably struck his head on the tunnel’s end and died slowly in a pitch-black pit . . . but then he popped out.

Thomas Finn was in another large domed area, not quite the size of the mosh pit but still of considerable size. This one was also full of stalagmites and large pillars—rock formations coming out of the ground. Thomas moaned, struggling to get up off his hands, but he couldn’t feel his legs. In fact, Thomas couldn’t feel much of anything, as he had gone completely into shock. The medical kind caused by serious physical trauma.

Then, he got the other kind, from turning back and realizing that they had completely ripped off his legs. “uuuuuUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Thomas screamed as he crab-walked backwards, blood flowing in a snail’s trail behind him. “That’s going to get . . . so infected.” Thomas felt sick to his stomach.

Then, he suddenly heard a loud, animalistic call echoing through the cavern. “What?” Thomas thought. Had he made it outside somehow? What was he hearing? It made its call again. It sounded like a mix of a howl and a guttural snort. It didn’t sound like something that would naturally occur in nature, but it definitely didn’t sound like an android either. Thomas looked up to one of the towering stalagmites that stretched probably fifty feet off of the ground. And climbing against the side of one far off, Thomas could see a strange silhouette. And it looked like it saw him.

Thomas quickly panicked and began to army crawl behind another rocky tower, his stumps dragging limply behind him. At this point, Thomas heard yet another call. He sent a phantom eye high up in the cavern to examine the creature that has been living in here for who knows how long. But he couldn’t see it. Suddenly, he heard that “thing’s” call again. And it was over on another stalagmite about fifty feet away. How the hell did this thing get there so fast without me seeing it? Thomas thought. He saw its silhouette climb up to the top of the stalagmite and curl up around the tip. It looked like it had gone to sleep, so Thomas moved in for a closer look.

It was quite large. It was about twenty feet long, counting its long, reptilian tale that snaked around the rocks. It had long legs, mammalian ones with jet-black fur and sharp claws. Its underside, which was just barely visible, was a large white furry oval that covered the length of its belly. “Doggy?” Thomas thought. It certainly was a big doggy. Its back, however, was a dark green, and it looked to have a scaly, reptilian texture. Despite having dog ears on the top of its head, it had a long snout with that same green colour to it. “Not . . . doggy? This thing looks like it was made by a Civ of some sort. It looks like a mix between a large dog and a . . . crocodile? That’s kind of dumb, but a bit cute too I guess.” Thomas thought aloud to himself. “Is this what the Rainmaker Gang has been up to?” Its body was also covered in large grey rocks in some places, covering its joints and weak points like rocky battle armour.

Suddenly, the crocodile dog began to stir. And then its crocodilian eye opened, revealing a slitted pupil that narrowed at Thomas’s floating eye drone. “Wait, crocodiles don’t eat people do they?” Thomas mumbled. And then the thing dove into the stalagmite, burrowing through it as it made its guttural call and vanished into the rock.