“Do you think they killed him?”

Marcia turned to look at the bruised face of the too thin girl in a tattered dress much like her own, fiercely clenching one of the still loaded muskets laying in a neat row on a bed that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.

She swallowed, wincing at horrors she didn’t think she’d ever be able to face without screaming, before pushing them away as she forced herself to do every morning, during the hours they were all given to heal between being forced to serve the needs of yet another platoon of abominations always coming back from the front. A tiny mercy that just amounted to a day of endless sweeping, cleaning, and storing, where they’d be lucky not to suffer fresh whip marks and bruises on their backs, to go with the sore agony of their fronts.

And how odd it was to gaze out the shattered doorway that had blown open with billowing white smoke and a deafening roar and not hear their task masters shouting at them to present themselves before dragging them each to whatever building they were assigned to clean that day, often as not forcing extra tasks on them that all the girls knew better than to accept with anything but a smile or end up dead like poor Misty who just couldn’t stop screaming, after being forced to work with her back still covered in bleeding sores.

Marcia rubbed eyes stinging with what she swore to herself was just the white smoke of too many cannons, and how the hell, why the hell, cannons were firing here of all places, she could only guess.

But she couldn’t deny that despite the nightmare her life had become, the sheer awe and terror she had felt when that too handsome boy radiating such a chilling aura had caught her gaze, had filled her with the tiniest spark of hope as well as terror.

If there was ever a hero that would even bother coming to their rescue, it was that savage wolf suddenly in their midst. And she’d gladly take the help of anyone, even a ruthless killer who had smiled just a bit too wide while taking out those orcs. Orcs that she could never bring herself to strike at, even when they made her nights a red haze of pain. Even when they were crushing her under their weight, snoring like the pigs they were the moment their seed was spilled. Far better that boy who moved so eerily fast that it sent chills down her spine, than spend another night choking back her tears, just wishing she had the strength to die.

She bit her lip and shook her head, before glaring at the corpse of the orc that had most recently sullied her, feeling indescribable joy at seeing his dead faced locked in a perpetual mask of wide-eyed desperation, tongue bulging past its tusks, clawing at it’s own sliced throat.

“Not a fucking clue, Lucy. But I’ll tell you one thing,” she said, catching the eyes of the other ten girls, most too terrified to even move. “Now that I got a flintlock in my hands, those bastards are going to have to pry it off my cold dead body before they ever chain me up to that bed again. Because sure as shit, I’m taking out as many of those fuckers as I can!”

“Damn right,” said Lucy, flashing a smile that had once been so beautiful, before all her front teeth had been forcefully ripped out.

An agony they had all been forced to endure.

And she swore her heart sung when little Jovie, who had been all but catatonic this past week, a girl Marcia had feared wasn’t much longer for this world than poor Misty, tentatively approached. “Can I…”

The poor dear trembled in her bloodstained dress and Marcia did what she had already sworn she would never do… surrender her flintlock, even if just for the moment it took to carefully put it on the bed and hug that sobbing girl no older than her. “Can I have one of those guns?”

Marcia laughed through her own tears, hugging the trembling girl tight. “Damn right, you can. Here. Just crouch beside the bed and use this asshole’s arm as a rest. See? If any oversized purple fucker enters the doorway, just squeeze the trigger. Me and Lucy will even let you take the first shot.”

With those words she could actually feel the constant crushing weight of despair lighten by the slightest degree, several of the girls even chuckling softly, two fellow survivors slowly approaching, making it clear that they too would rather die on their feet than on their backs, preferably with a gun in their hands. And for just a heartbeat Marcia swore she felt the faintest flicker, a butterfly’s caress of actual happiness, like the gentle shafts of golden sunlight promising hope for the first time in forever, when the air rang with an eerie sonorous chant and the girls around her began to scream for their lives.

“Surge, centuria! Imperator imperat tibi!”

Marcia felt her ears ringing, so dizzy with disbelief and horror that she nearly crashed to the ground as the stiffening corpse serving as a gun rest began to twitch.

Her heart lurched. Wanting to believe it was nothing but stiffening limbs as death claimed its due.

Then the body twitched again. And again.

Milky eyes abruptly opened, tiny pinpricks of green light animating otherwise glassy orbs as a crimson rune blazed to life on its forehead.

The girls around Marcia began shrieking as one, she just as much as they.

The barracks rang with the roar of gunfire, filling it with white smoke and fear as a dozen twitching corpses actually began to squirm and writhe, fatal gashes stitching themselves up with flesh that squirmed like worms. And to Marcia’s utter horror, she was forced to witness the nightmarish spectacle of decapitated heads slithering forward on tendrils of blood and brain like octopoid abominations before reaching out for quivering slime-covered strands oozing out from half a dozen decapitated necks that claimed their heads with hideous slurps as more than one girl began to dry-heave bellies that hadn’t seen gruel in over a day.

Even the shiny cast iron ball that had done nothing more than dent a skull before falling off to clatter on the concrete floor slab resulted in no more than a skull quickly popping back into shape, and within the span of 30 seconds, 12 monsters that had violated so many of them had risen from death once more.

“No! Not again! Never again!” Screamed Lucy, on the verge of a breakdown, Marcia holding her close as the other girls sobbed, cowering in the back of the barracks in abject terror.

Not that Marcia blamed them.

She just held to the desperate hope that, as the twelve walking corpses slammed fists to chests, that they weren’t there for them.

“Surge, centuria! Imperator imperat tibi!”

Roared that strangely familiar voice now echoing endlessly through the whole damned town.

“Ave Imperator! Abedimus!” The twelve undead called back in eerie unison, along with what sounded like hundreds of others beyond this nightmare den. The twelve horrors then widened their eyes, now truly looking around them, the eldritch flames of their irises seeming to measure every trembling girl crouching in terror, begging for mercy.

As one, all twelve lurched forward.

Tearing free muskets from sweat-slicked hands with effortless ease, they paid no further heed to the sobbing girls they left behind as they filed out the door.

A dazed Marcia looked out the shattered doorway for long moments, rendered momentarily speechless by what she had seen. She didn’t know why she wasn’t huddling with the other girls, instead of grabbing one of the remaining 8 flintlocks and slowly, carefully approaching the rubble-strewn entrance, seeing more than a few shiny steel balls sparkle in the morning light before looking at the alleyway beyond, and screaming her lungs out as she stumbled back, squeezing her eyes shut desperately against the memory of the unspeakable abomination she had just witnessed come into being.

“Marcia, what is it?”

“Get back, Lucy! For fuck’s sake, don’t look!”

Which was of course, the worst thing she could have said.

Because of course the girl had to steal a peek herself, her features taking on a ghastly pallor as she trembled and shook. “Oh my god! A fucking sea of blood and eyes and tentacles all writhing together and… oh god, I’m going to be sick!”

And the sound of poor Lucy dry heaving was nothing compared to the horrific squelchy sound of tons of liquefied flesh trying to put itself back together.

Failing utterly, yet unable to resist the call of whatever tingling energies Marcia still felt thrumming through her soul.

Until at last, to the wide-eyed stupefaction of every single girl that just had to come and look, the liquified pool of blood, flesh, and bone had transformed into a hideous fifteen foot tall shambling mound of knotted muscle and bone, moving forward on a pulsating mass of fleshy tendrils along with a single orb made of hundreds of eyes, all blinking in eerie concert.

And again that voice Marcia knew she recognized from somewhere rang throughout the town once more.

“Surge, centuria! Imperator imperat tibi!”

“Shit, that sounds just like what’s-his-name did while playing the captain of Elonia’s guard in that premier they were scheduled to release just three days after the world ended!” Lucy of all people squealed when the nightmare abomination slammed a massive tendril to its chest before answering with a massive mouth capable of swallowing an entire horse, filled with inward facing rib-like teeth emerging from its torso, it’s roar like an elephant’s echoing without end.

“Ave Imperator! Abedimus!”

The creature then shambled off, leaving a slime trail somewhat like a snail’s, and Marcia, much to her horror, found herself following behind it on trembling feet, Lucy and several others trailing furtively behind her. All of them at least having the sense to bring guns. Except for Lucy, too excited to do anything but squeal.

“Lucy, what the hell are you going on about?” Said Sing, the shortest among them, holding her flintlock as best she could with her too thin arms.

“That’s Elonia Silver’s brother! Eric? Yeah, Eric is his name! I loved all her movies, and she was in recovery and I could so relate because god I want to get high so bad right now. Anything that’s not the orcs' poison shit. So when I found out they were doing an apocalypse fantasy movie together, brother and sister, I just had to download it when the premier hit all my favorite pirate sights! Don’t judge, Sing. I always gave a few dollars to my favorite actors’ SuperPatron accounts. I’m not an asshat.”

Sing snorted. “I didn’t say a thing, girl. But do you really think that psycho boy who saved our asses is some famous actor? Seriously?”

Her word became a wide-eyed gasp of fear, Sing stumbling back and somehow Marcia was holding the girl shaking so bad she seemed about to faint. Not that Marcia blamed her when she dared to take a glimpse herself at what had caught Sing's eye in the central depot clearing, blinking at the sight of thousands of soldiers saluting that same bright-eyed youth now mounted on top of a two story tall warthog.

A fucking massive pig larger than a prehistoric mastodon.

“What the fuck!” Sing hissed. “What the fucking fuck?”

And Marcia knew just how Sing felt as every orc in the depot was now marching forward with fiery green eyes gazing at deathly horizons she was happy to never imagine before spinning around as one, all of them saluting with fists to chest.

“Ave Imperator! Abedimus!”

Even the scores of massive two story tall warthogs were stomping their front hooves and squealing in time to those words.

“You’re damn right you do, boys! To hell and back!” The young man who could have been a college freshman or a high school senior, Marcia had dated enough of both, flashed a manic grin, before his helmet disappeared, now rubbing his eyes as golden locks flowed freely in the winter breeze.

A shivering Marcia felt a painful ache of longing she sure as hell had never expected to feel ever again as she gazed at a face that had covered way too many teen idol covers… and looked all the cooler, she thought, for the shimmering tattoos flashing like rubies with a sparkle of obsidian fire under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. Somehow, it looked absolutely perfect on flawless features complimented by eyes that were such a striking shade of blue, like glittering sapphires, and a strong jaw now absent the boyish airbrushed cheeks that had once smiled back at her by the teller stand, what now felt like a lifetime ago.

Marcia found it strangely pleasing that she wasn’t the only one thrown off by the monstrous horror now lumbering toward him.

“Seriously? I made that?”

The massive fifteen foot abomination moaned piteously.

The boy, who could only be Eric Silver, winced.

“Yeah, maybe six siege cannons was a tiny bit overkill. But sometimes you just have to be sure, you know?”

The horror’s whipping tendrils seemed to shrug in agreement.

The youth who could only be Eric Silver frowned thoughtfully. “Somehow, I don’t think you’re exactly the most mobile thing. But as far as fear factor goes, I think you’ll do wonderfully. Now, just how effective are you at combat?”

And so fast that Marcia and Lucy both shrieked, the creature whipped out what looked like half a dozen braided tongues, snatching up an equal number of undead orcs standing at eerie attention before snapping them all into its mouth like a frog catching flies.

The youth laughed, eyes twinkling merrily. “You know what? That’s actually a neat trick.” His gaze hardened. “Now spit the boys out. That’s better.”

Marcia couldn’t believe he actually patted the abomination’s writhing tentacles… or that it seemed to shudder with joy at serving the powerfully-built youth.

“So, um, are you like some Necromancer King?” Sing asked after clearing her throat, and Marcie couldn’t help but whimper when 2000 odd soldiers turned in eerie unison to face her. But the boy on top of the massive mammoth-sized pig actually looked embarrassed.

“Sorry… you um… didn’t exactly catch me at my best.”

Sing’s mischievous smile widened. “You mean when you were slicing open those orcs with so much savage pleasure even Dexter would be proud?”

The youth laughed and cleared his throat, awkward smile turning hard so fast that Marcia felt chills shivering down her spine.

“Pretty much, yeah. Exactly that.”

Sing snorted. “Don’t sweat it. I fantasized about doing so much worse to those bastards every time they were… you know… to me and my sisters.”

All mirth left Sing’s face, her almond eyes flashing with something that transcended mere hate as she clenched fists tightly with remembered shame, and fury. “For what they did to me, what they took away from me... my teeth, my dignity, my fucking life! I would kill and kill and kill those fuckers. I would drown the whole fucking world in their blood!”

Marcie blanched to hear such fury in Sing’s voice, but all the boy did was nod in approval.

“I can relate. Those fuckers threw my sister into one of their fire pits, and I wasn’t far behind.”

Sing stared at him for long moments. “But you got out.”

Eric dipped his head. “I did. And I paid a price. Was covered in scars like you wouldn’t believe. But they healed. As did my soul. The powerlessness I felt slowly transformed to resolve and strength like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Because you’re a Classer,” Sing whispered.

“I am.”

“But you’re Eric Silver, right?” said Lucy, finding the courage to speak up at that moment. “Elonia’s your sister… you guys are actors… you two did that post apocalyptic movie together!”

The boy’s face turned beet red.

Even Jovie snorted. “Can’t lie! We see your cheeks!” The girl piped up with an impish grin before hiding behind Marcie.

The boy chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, you’re right. We did.” He quickly raised his hand. “But before you ask, no, I had absolutely no idea any of this shit would go down. I was as caught off guard as anyone else. And for the first month or so, we were hunting rats in the sewers with crossbows, totally classless, just trying to survive.”

He flashed a rueful smile. “And let’s set the record straight. I’m not an actor. I’m an embarrassment. Elonia’s the one with all the talent. I’m the one who looks good swinging a saber on camera and, yeah, dying nobly so you don’t focus on how weak all my lines were, at least when I’m not shouting and fighting, preferably with the camera panning wide.”

Sing just looked up at him. “And you’re telling us all this from the back of a two-story high warthog?”

Eric shrugged. “Actually, I’m not quite sure where my Spirit Beasts branch off the Suidae tree. They’re not exactly from around here.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Sing quipped.

Eric smirked. “Anyway, I just call these guys Tuskers, on account of their multiple very sharp tusks. Very good for spearing through orc armor, and pretty much anything else, before flipping their targets forty feet in the air and never looking back, because really, there’s no need.”

The freckled girl whistled with approval. “This guy likes to flip orcs 40 feet in the air? I think I like him a hell of a lot better than my mom’s pot-belly pig.”

This earned a round of unexpected laughter, Marcie surprised to feel her lips curling up in the tiniest of smiles, even more surprised to feel the unexpected tingle and lightness in her chest she had once called hope, and had never expected to feel again.