Author's Notes: And so we've reached the darkest, most gruesome couple chapters thus far. Gonna preface this one by saying this thing is gonna be triggering as fuck, so yeah. I'll list 'em down below.

Mutilation, amputation, intentions of rape, cannibalism. Pretty much what you'd expect.

Goes without saying that the next four chapters are Rated M.

Strap yourself in, this is gonna be a ride.

4:44 PM

Dot [Henry Simmons]

Schkschkschkschk thwack!

His beard was unkempt, with long, curly black strands going out in every direction. It was usually kept short, formed into a thin goatee, though time had slipped through his fingers in recent months. His hair matched the theme, the part in the middle of his forehead nearly gone as longer strands of hair threatened to enter his vision.

Schkschkschkschk thwack!

The bridge of his nose was crooked, a souvenir of a fight long ago, though Henry had always thought it gave him character. It wasn't like he had to worry about his good looks anymore. His brown eyes trailed along it, remembering just how satisfying it was to end that fucker's life, to get revenge-

Schkschkschkschk thwack!

His eyes drifted from the mirror hanging on a string attached to the handles of a cabinet in the room, turning to look behind him, towards the body James had been cutting into smaller pieces nearby. He eventually gathered the severed limbs and tossed them into a bucket, taking it into the next room. When he came back, he hauled out the body.

Simmons's attention then diverted to the cell at the far end of the room, sitting in a rusted chair as the two girls slept on the tiled floor behind the metal fence, his fingers rubbing the back of his other hand. These two had put up a fight, one that he respected them for. Most children were… easy to subdue. Easier still to get what you wanted from them. They were... they were experienced, though. Young, weak, but more than capable of survival if they were quick enough. Fortunate for Simmons, though, they weren't.

He still didn't have the asshole with the beard, but he'd send men out to find him soon. They needed those antibiotics for someone, so he must've been incapacitated somewhere. It was only a matter of time before he was found.

His attention focused on the formerly baseball-capped girl, watching as she stirred from her forced slumber. She was the one to look out for. He pushed himself to his feet as James entered with another body, placing it on the butchering table next to him. They exchanged a look before Simmons circled the table, standing in front of the cage with his arms crossed across his chest.

His mind drifted towards questions he had for these girls, questions he'd been unable to rip out of Lee after repeated attempts. At least he now had leverage, if he couldn't get anything out of the them. Fathers couldn't bear to see their children hurt. It was their biggest weakness. He'd start with them first, try to pry any information out, and when that failed… a little torture on the pair would get Lee talking. He'd find out why they were so interested in the Fireflies soon enough.

The girl lifted her head a moment later, looking towards where Simmons was staring back at her just in time for James to slice into the body's right arm, effortlessly cutting it off before knocking it into a bucket nearby.

Simmons smiled, taking a step closer to the cage. His voice was like gravel, low and croaky. "You're finally awake."

Art [Clementine]

Feeling her face pressed against the murky, cold floor, Clementine's eyes suddenly shot open, blood then amassed on the edge of her lips and the tip of her nose, sending a frigid shiver down her arms. While the girl's eyes adjusted to the dark, the back of her head flared in pain, aching seconds at a time in what was one hell of an unbearable feeling. Clem rose into a sitting position, her back against the wall, eyes landing on the bars in front of her. It came back to her quickly after that, what got her into that spacious cell.

She remembered being held by her arm, struck by the butt of a rifle, her face sinking into the snow before the world turned black.

They hadn't just gotten them, those assholes had their heads on a platter. Clem sniffed loudly, trying to quell her frustration, her sadness, her anger... everything that was piling up along with the pain surging where her hat used to be.

Ellie was there. Whether that was a good or a bad thing, at the time, she couldn't tell. Her first instinct was to shake her, wake her up, slap her across the face if she had to. They were in dire fucking straits and she desperately needed her help.

Nothing could've prepared Clementine for what would ultimately drag her attention away from her friend. The sounds of chopping flesh, oozing liquid and faint laughing, mixed in with the putrid smell of death. She could almost feel her eyeballs pop out like a cartoon at the sight of someone cutting up a human arm, worried to death that they'd be next on the chopping block. While her hands laid on top of Ellie, the girl tried not to whimper in fear as her eyes met Henry's, her voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"You gonna kill us...?" That was all she could think to say, at the time, fists clenched to keep her from vainly crying for help. There had to be a reason they hadn't done so yet, but to be frank, her head hurt too much for the girl to think straight. If those monsters were planning to murder her and her friend, she wanted them to at least cut the crap and tell her.

Dot [Henry Simmons]

Simmons let out a slight chuckle, shaking his head. He still wasn't sure what he wanted from these folks, beyond whatever interest they had in the Fireflies, but in a way… he didn't want to kill these two. The men, sure, but these kids? They were useful, influenceable. He'd just need time to get them there.

"No, I'm not-" He let out a sigh, shaking his head again. "I'm not gonna kill you. Unless you make me." He glanced towards James as the other man rolled his eyes, heading out of the room. This was where they didn't see eye-to-eye. He glanced back towards the girls as the other one stirred, and Simmons picked up a pair of plates sitting on the counter nearby, slipping them underneath the metal gate separating them.

"Here. Eat."

Dot [Ellie]

Ellie's throat felt as if someone had crushed it and kept her alive to feel every ounce of pain before she could die. It sapped at her energy, leaving her groggy as she finally managed to open her eyes. Voices were at the edge of her consciousness, barely audible, but she tried to focus herself on them.

She rolled over, her blurry vision being met with that asshole, Henry, and something far, far worse… on the table beyond, a body laid prostrate, its arm cut off and placed into a bucket sitting by the table. Bile rose in her throat, nearly sending her back to the floor again, and she struggled to force it away.

Henry's attention was on Clementine, pushing a couple of plates underneath the gate. She groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position, then glanced towards the two plates with contempt. Some kind of meat was laid out on it, wisps of steam rising from it.

She narrowed her eyes, crawling next to Clementine as if to protect her. "What is it?"

Henry turned his attention to her, his answer immediate. "It's deer."

"With some human helping on the side?"

That elicited a chuckle from him, eventually letting out a sigh. "No, it's just the deer meat. I promise."

She stared him down, eyes narrowing further, before she finally grabbed one of the plates, digging into the meat. "You're a fucking animal."

"Maybe I am," Henry replied, his voice lowering slightly as he squatted in front of the gate, watching them. "This world forces you to do some shitty things you can't really be proud of." He paused, gesturing towards them as if his next words were obvious. "'You do what you have to do to survive.' Tell me you wouldn't do the same if you were starving." He paused, tapping his fingers against his knees. "Everyone has a boundary, and a tipping point when it becomes necessary to cross it. So, I think it's best to reserve your judgement."

Art [Clementine]

The plate of deer meat, warm and appetizing, swiftly slid through the bars, landing near her feet. Clem's mouth instinctively salivated, the girl's stomach growling and begging to devour it whole, but she could only narrow her eyes at the guy, while Ellie perfectly echoed her thoughts. Unlike her friend, though, Clementine refused to eat, letting the plate grow cold in the afternoon breeze. Whatever it is that asshole wanted, she wasn't giving him the satisfaction.

... and even more so, unlike Ellie, she knew what it was like to actually starve.

Henry talked big game, twisted enough to keep looking for vindication where there was none; just a bunch of excuses. She could spot types like him from a mile away. He and monsters like Carver were all a cut from the same cloth, ruining people's lives while trying to make themselves feel good about it. Clementine couldn't fucking stand it. Her mouth opened halfway through, hesitant to speak, letting out mere puffs of air, though that reluctance wouldn't last, even through gritted teeth.

"You think being hungry makes it okay to eat other people?" She stared Henry down impetuously, wiping the leftover blood from her face. "You're not special. You're just a coward."

Dot [Henry Simmons]

"You're not exactly an angel yourself, darlin'," Simmons deadpanned. "How many of our men did you four kill?" The question was rhetorical, but it got his point across. "In fact, you've had quite the streak, haven't you?" His gaze was focused on Clem, narrowing his eyes. "You killed a Savior back in Pittsburgh. Shot him in cold blood. 'Cause youknew that it was the right thing to do. Then you slipped right through our fingers." He paused, gesturing with his hands to indicate sand pouring between his fingers, smiling. "There aren't any saints anymore, kiddo. Just a bunch of monsters trying to outlive other monsters."

The other girl's gaze narrowed in response. She was close to trying to put herself between him and the baseball-capped girl. It was obvious in the way that her gaze bounced between them, and she was practically already bracing herself to stand up.

Though, instead, she butted her way into the conversation, her tone harsh. "So now what? You gonna chop us up into tiny pieces?"

Simmons shook his head, sighing. This was all they were going to think about. It was all anyone ever thought about when they were in that room. "I'd rather not," he replied honestly. He looked between the two, his fingers twitching. "So, I've gotten her name, but what about you, hm?"

The girl's eyes narrowed, and she pushed the trays of food back out, which splattered all over the floor.

"You're so full of shit."

"I'd like to think I've been quite honest with you two," Simmons muttered, looking towards the mess next to him before standing up. "But since you're clearly not going to cooperate, let's move on, hm? Have a nice little chat about what you're doin' here." He turned back towards the door, where James stood just beyond.

He gestured for him to enter, and assist him in getting them out of there and to escort them to the basement where Lee remained. As James fumbled with the keys, Simmons crossed his arms against his chest. "Don't think about tryin' anything. If you do… well… what'd you say about tiny pieces?"

At the horror that flashed across her face, his smile grew into a grin.

The gate was opened then, and the two quickly entered to grab their prisoners.

4:36 PM

Kentucky [Joel]

"Alright, hold it in place."

"But it's still today."

"We could look for a drugstore? There's gotta be one…"

"You shot him…"

"Looks like shelter."

"Daddy, we can't leave him."

"We only managed to get a little bit of food."

"You kept complaining about your broken watch."

With a jolt, Joel awoke. Hot breaths tempered past his lips, eyes glazed to the ceiling. They rolled in their sockets, a dark pain still festering in his side. He had hardly been awake before, only temporary moments where he had glanced at Ellie and Clementine to shit, piss, eat, drink. It wasn't enough. He felt like he needed to be there for them; especially since Lee was… dead.

He wanted to think that Lee was alive, but it was like Ellie said back in Pittsburgh.

"But you don't believe that?"

No, he didn't. It was surreal. The man he had been journeying with for so long, gone. Not even any closure in the death sentence; he was just gone. He couldn't focus on Lee anymore. Ellie and Clementine were still there and they needed to know that he was okay, that he was there for them. He threw his blanket off and tried to sit up, hand clenching near his wound as he yelped in pain. He doubled over, eyes squeezing shut as he rolled onto his side. He had to fight the pain; he had to get through it. "Ellie…" He mumbled, putting a foot off of his mattress and attempting to stand.

His other leg followed suit, but it wasn't enough. He fell to his knees, hitting the floor of the garage with a startle. "Gah!" He rasped, palms spread out on the cold, concrete ground. Okay, baby steps. Baby steps. He managed to position himself to one knee now and his eyes fell on the sole source of warmth in the room. A dying horse, sputtering out chortled whinnies as it grew weaker. Skinnier. A twang of pain hit Joel's heart for a moment. It looked like Clementine's horse; whatever she had named it. Whiskers, or something. Ellie's horse was gone. Callus. Maybe they were out there, hunting. Trying to get by. The thought of them returning to find him able to walk around again pushed him further, so finally, he began to stand.

His legs pushed against him. He hadn't stood quite right in a while, rather taking to his knees to push on in the past week. But, hands firmly placed at his side, the legs stood. Pain seared, sharp and harsh against his nerves. Joel wanted to crawl back under his blanket, but that wasn't an option.

"Ellie!" He called out again, although he knew she wasn't there. "Clementine?!" Nor was she. He knew it, but he had to try, at the very least.

He paced the garage, eyeing his backpack and scooping it up. It fell over his shoulders easily enough; he was still wearing the same clothes. He didn't advance further into the house, instead turning to the horse. It would be better to end its suffering now. He didn't suppose the girls would even entertain the idea of having to eat him, but fact of the matter was the horse was dead already. Joel looked around, finding an arrow sitting atop a shelf, gleaming at him from its heightened position.

He grabbed the arrow by the shaft, bending down with a grunt of injury to the horse. He rubbed the creature's head and it murmured something resembling thanks. "I'm sorry." He whispered, taking the arrow and aiming it at the horse's eye. He knew where the thing's brain was; it wouldn't feel a thing.

Joel shoved the arrow into Whiskers's eye, wincing as it went limp. No longer did its hooves kick with sickness. It lay still, silent and finally dead for good. Joel ripped the arrow from its head, then tossed it to the side. It troubled him, an innocent creature being put down like that, but it happened every day; Joel figured he'd done the right thing.

He watched his breath leave his mouth, wispy and dissipating in the air. He moved away from the dead horse, entering the rest of the house and stumbling into the kitchen. He used the sink counter as his leverage, pushing further and further into their new home as best as he could. It was snowing outside; unexpected but… he liked it. It soothed him, in a way.

Just as he was about to continue, he heard the door to the living room open with a crash. That wasn't the girls. Joel grabbed at his revolver, still left in his pocket after his spill from the horse. "I swear man, they put him in here." Two men at least, then.

"Just shut up."

Two. Joel checked his gun's cylinder. Four bullets still left, four bullets still there. He doubted he could fight them head on, especially after having just woken up. He couldn't risk tearing the stitches that Clementine had so cautiously grafted into his skin. He saw one of the men enter the kitchen in a frenzy, one hand clutching onto a revolver similar to Joel's. The man turned, eyes locking with his and startling back. Joel pulled the trigger before the man could pull his, a bullet tearing into the man's eye and dropping him like a rock.

" Patrick! " Another screamed as Joel pushed forward to chase him down as well. Another man stood in the living room, this one wielding a wooden plank. He rushed at Joel as the Texan fired another shot into the man's torso; but the plank connected. It hit him in the side, surging pain through his body as Joel's hand flew up, the revolver smacking the man in the nose. Blood poured from the now screaming man as Joel took chase, pushing him to the ground and hitting him again, and again, and again…

The man was dead after four more hits to the back of his head, Joel could tell that. The way his hand continued twitching uncontrollably, not trying to resist. He looked at the corpse, standing up with the usual motley assortment of hurt. The man limped toward the other one, emptying the dead's revolver and receiving three bullets for his trouble. The girls were not hunting; and he needed to find them, very, very bad. He pushed his way out the front door, nothing left for him back in that home as he pushed onwards through the growing snowfall. He kept looking around for tracks, for more men, for anything that could help. But his efforts seemed fruitless.

As he passed by a fence, he couldn't help but think that the pain was already beginning to subside.

Shadow Dot [Narrator]

Jason and Wyatt lied in wait just beyond the alleyway the dickhead that killed their friends was coming down. When he passed by them, Jason leapt out towards him, holding him back. "Gotcha, asshole!"

He twisted the man towards his friend, who brandished a knife and approached in quick steps. "Finish him off!" Jason yelled, hoping to end this quickly so they could go back home.

Kentucky [Joel]

Joel hardly expected the next turn of events, grunting in surprise as two heavy arms pulled him back. He tried to throw his arms at the man to knock him away, but it was of little use. Another approached dauntingly, wielding a combat knife and prepping to gut Joel. He continued struggling, before throwing a kick into the knife wielder's crotch, sending him keeling over in pain.

"Aw, shit!" The one behind him cried, Joel knocking the back of his head into the man's nose. His head concussed with pain as blood spewed onto the back of him, his arms freed.

Joel spun around, grabbing the man and shoving his head into a nearby wall. "Son of a bitch!" The man cried before he was knocked to the ground, grabbing at his bloodied face and scalp. Joel turned again, intensity swathing his mind as his focus became clear on the man with the knife. As he tried to stand, Joel's boot caught his face, sparking more blood through the snow. Joel was quick in his movements; effortlessly, he jumped to the man's level and grabbed him by the collar. He scooped up the man's arms while his friend still lay in a daze, dragging him off towards a nearby house. "Let me go... I'll fuck you up... " The man grunted, but Joel already had a response planned.

"Come on."

They were both dragged off in no time, Joel's handiwork fine, if he had thought so himself. He had bound both of them up, throwing hefty punches into the one that had the knife.

"What do you want?!" He cried, another knuckle bruising his nose. "What the f-" He never finished, interrupted by Joel's attacks. He had bound this one by his wrists behind him, leaving him near a radiator. He was unable to get up and even if he tried, Joel would just shove him back down. The other one, the one who had grabbed him, was tied up to a chair behind Joel.

As the man finished beating on the one, he turned, clutching at his wound. He hadn't even realized how much it still hurt. He figured it had only been a week or so since the incident; they couldn't have survived much longer than that in this season. Of course it would still hurt; it was naive to think it wouldn't. But for a moment, he had felt invincible. Two lives at risk, two lives that were sure to be killed by bandits soon if they weren't already. He knew they were looking for him. It only made sense that this crew must have seen Ellie and Clementine dragging him off somewhere. But what could they want with them? It wasn't like they had much... but Joel's question was soon answered by himself when his mind drifted back to Pittsburgh, back to before Boston, even. They didn't need much; he didn't need much back then. He had always needed something; even if that something meant killing two little girls.

It angered him even more, his wound flaring against him as he strained with fury. The man's knife had been left on a nearby table, Joel eyeing it down as he left him behind.

"You wait here," his gravelly voice breathed before he pulled the blade off of its resting place. "Now..." He began, turning to the man in the chair. He pulled up another seat, directly in front of the tied man, plopping himself down into it. "The girls... are they alive?" The most important question, he figured. The man wouldn't tell him right away, of course. But it would be coerced out of him eventually.

Shadowman [Narrator]

The man slanted his eyes in response to the question from the wounded man they'd been sent to find. He was getting tired and frustrated from beating up his friend and getting no answers from the looks of it. Well, it wouldn't be any different here. This man could fucking choke for all he cared, soon enough more of them would arrive. Thenhe'd be fucked.

He deadpanned, shaking his head and furrowing his brows as he answered. "What girls…? I don't know no girls."

Kentucky [Joel]

The wrong answer. Of course it was the wrong answer. Just as Joel had expected, too. He clenched his teeth, looking behind him in disappointment. Then, his newfound knife came stabbing down into the man's knee. The man's hands flew up in pain, his legs unable to kick due to their binds. " Gah! Fuuuckkk... " He screamed, Joel leaning closer as he left the knife in the man's leg. He slapped his chin once, a dark grate wandering out of his throat. "Focus right here. Right here." He leaned in closer, gripping the knife tighter. The man continued to struggle, Joel finally leaning back. "Or I'll pop your goddamn knee off." He watched the man, toying with him. "The girls." He questioned again. No, not questioned. It was a command.

Shadowtucky [Narrator]

Jason clutched his eyes shut, reeling in pain. He was still angry, so very very angry; but his friends dying seemed so far away now. Now all he could focus on was the knife in his leg and the vivid image of his knee hanging from its socket. This was the worst of it and this image was what made him nod his head furiously.

"They're alive. They're Henry's newest pets." He crooned, trying to just get this man away . The bearded man got closer, breath pouring into Jason's face.

" Where? " He hocked up, twisting the knife in Jason's legs.

Why?! Why would he do that?! Jason tore back, the back of his still pounding head falling to the back of his chair. "In the town! In the town!" He spoke, as the man ripped the knife from his flesh and stuck the handle in between his teeth. The man held up a map, directing Jason with a heavy finger.

"Now you're gonna mark it on the map, and it better be the same exact spot your buddy points to." He looked at him as Jason hesitated. The man's eyes bore into his very soul; Jason had seen that look before. He had seen it in insane men, delirious and wild in a frenzy of survival. He had seen that face all too many times.

Jason marked the butcher's shop where Henry kept all of his prisoners to toy with. Jason didn't like it; he didn't eat others for the fun of it. He did it because he had to. What it was like to go hungry, nearly starve to death... he never wanted to experience that again. He spit the knife out onto the floor, turning to the man, quaking in fear and the shivering cold. "It's right there. You can verify it, go ask him. Go on!" He pleaded, as the man began to stand up.

Kentucky [Joel]

Joel had never intended on leaving either of them alive. The man had no reason to lie; he was too scared. Joel knew this, yet still his arm gripped around the man's neck and squeezed. Neither of them deserved to keep going; as the one had said, he called those girl's Henry's latest pet . Whoever Henry was, he was obviously their leader and it was obvious that these men had allowed that to happen; an unforgivable offense.

"He'll tell ya. I ain't lyin... I ain't lyin..." The man begged before Joel's arm wrapped around his throat. He held him up, his head tilting back while thick gargles proposed from his throat. Finally, bone and sinew snapped, ripping the man's spinal cord in two. Joel let the corpse and the chair fall back, hitting the ground directly in front of his friend.

The other looked up at him, anger swelling in his eyes. "Fuck you, man! He told you what you wanted! I ain't telling you shit." He swore in defiance.

Joel picked up the sharp pipe that the dead one had on him, wielding it over the other's head. "That's alright. I believe him."

Joel gripped the pipe in both hands, raising it up for a swing. "No, wait!" The man cried, before the pipe crashed over his head, spraying blood everywhere.