Well, thanks to an ice storm we had a few weeks ago that meant I couldn't leave the house for almost 2 weeks, I was able to get this chapter knocked out pretty quickly. It's also a little shorter in comparison to the others, but very dense, & you'll see why I chose to stop where I did at the end. Big thanks to my new beta readers for helping get the edits done very quickly.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece. I only own my original additions. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Disturbing Imagery & Themes, Descriptions of Anxiety

... And When You Look Long Into the Abyss...

"What? Who?" Abel asked, too startled to ask anything more elaborate.

The mayor's long, gnarled fingers dug into her shoulders with surprising strength. "The people!" he rasped, eyes burning with urgency. "I don't know if the Sternenhimmels is behind it, but the people have worked themselves into a frenzy. They're convinced all the recent deaths is because their god is angry with you and your friends. That you're an omen of death. They're on their way to kill your friends and hand you two-" He pointed to Abel and Caine. "Over to the cult. They think it will appease them and stop the killing. But deep down, we all know that's a lie."

It probably wasn't a good sign at how calm Abel remained in light of news that a mob was on their way to kill them. Rather than panic, Abel held Watson up. "Did you guys catch all that?"

"We heard," Nami answered, the crew having been on the open line the entire time.

"Please," the mayor pleaded. "I know I have no right to ask this, but please don't kill them. The people are just terrified."

Grumbling came over the line. "What do you expect us to do!?" Usopp shouted. "Just let them kill us!?"

"Where's the mob now?" Robin's much calmer voice asked.

"They were gathered at the clocktower," the mayor answered. "They're on their way, but they're not here yet. You still have time to cast away and escape. You can avoid the mob all together."

"But it's only been four days," Nami interrupted. "We have to wait another five days here before the log pose sets if we want to be able to continue on."

The mayor cursed something in Germanic, at a loss. He was torn between wanting to save both these strangers and his people, but conflict seemed inevitable. At least until Gerry tugged on his jacket arm, baby still tucked securely to her chest. "What about... north shore?" she asked hesitantly, tumbling over the words in Common.

At the same time, the old man's eyes lit up and Leif made a noise over the line. "That's right!" Leif said excitedly. "You can wait at the north shore!" His voice became quieter over the line, leading Abel to assume he'd turned away slightly to address the crew directly. "Remember when I told you about the coast being full of sinkholes and caves? That's on the northern edge of the island. No one goes there, because it's too dangerous. If you dock your ship on that coast, you can safely wait out the remaining days and leave without anyone noticing after the log pose sets."

Silence fell over the line as they considered their options. "What do you think, Luffy?" Nami asked after a moment. "Stay and fight, or leave and wait?"

Before their captain could give an answer, Sanji skeptically asked, "How do we know we can trust this guy? What if he's in league with the cult and driving us into an ambush?"

The old mayor's back straightened, like an offended cat. Clearly calling him a liar was a great dishonor. "I admit, I came here merely to take my daughter away from the line of battle, knowing they were on their way. But then she told me how you were risking your life to save my grandson, not out of any desire for reward." His hands clenched, and his greying eyes turned misty. "Maybe I'm beyond help for wasting so many years trying to appease the Sternenhimmels, but I'm not completely without honor." His face was determined as he stared hard at Abel. "You didn't have to save my grandson, and I don't have to save you, but here we are."

Abel returned the man's hard stare, trying to take measure of him. In the end, she decided, "I believe him." The cult knew where they were. Why bother with subterfuge? "Let's not forget: we're not the monsters here." Taking this as an endorsement of the flee plan, the mayor sighed in relief, and over the line Nami began barking orders for a quick departure.

The away party followed after the old mayor up the stairs. When he peeked outside to check if the coast was clear, however, he quickly slammed the door shut and ushered them out of sight. "They're already coming this way. Down at the end of the street."

Shite, Abel thought. "Red?"

"We're already pulling away," Nami assured. "But what about you guys?"

"I'll show you the back way," the mayor replied, motioning them back down the stairs. "We'll bypass the mob and you can connect on the north shore that way."

Abel suppressed a groan. "I take it by the back way, you mean the catacombs." Abel blamed her irritability about having to go back down into the catacombs on her mounting illness. She was starting to feel excessively tired and run down, meaning her body wasn't exactly appreciative of her expending excess energy she didn't have to spare right now. Really, she just wanted to sleep, images of her warm bed and hobbled dog curled up with her calling stronger than a siren. The thought of having to go back into the dark, dank, cold and dreary tunnels made her want to just sit down and childishly refuse. Sadly, being an adult meant she had to act like one. And she would feel bad about maiming a lot of civilians just so she could take a nap. Eventually.

Her feelings must've been obvious on her face as the mayor warned Gerry to hide until the mob passed then make a break for it, because her sister was giving her a knowing smirk. Abel didn't bother to point an accusing finger at her, merely staring dryly back. As Gerry disappeared upstairs to bundle the baby up against the cold, the mayor returned his attention to them. Without much ceremony, he scooped up their lantern and instructed, "Quickly. Follow me." It only then occurred to Abel that the man was speaking in perfect Common. If he hated Padre so much, how did he manage that?

Repressing a groan, Abel quickly followed suit despite her body's protests at breaking resting momentum. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner she could sleep. That was all the motivation she needed right now. Abel must've really been out of it at this point because she didn't even realize this was Franky's first time actually down in the catacombs until the man let out a whistle upon his bare feet touching the cold ground. "Cheery place," he commented.

"Bet you wish you wore pants, now," Caine commented.

"Nah, I'm good," Franky replied, earning a scoff from her sister.

"This way," the mayor whispered, keeping his voice hushed. Given what they'd found down here with them, Abel could understand his desire for silence.

Solomon must've been thinking along the same lines, because even as they followed behind the mayor in a line, he asked, "Are you sure we should be down in the cult's territory? Won't heading north just lead us to them?"

The mayor gave a slight nod. "It is true they hide down here. However, we're not going so far. Here, we take a left." The mayor led them down a tunnel they hadn't been before. One of the ones they'd passed by during Nami's instructions. "I'm taking you toward the old dock works," the mayor explained, voice echoing off the narrow walls. "We'll surface there. That should put us far enough away from the mob for you to make your way north through the streets. This is just the easiest way to avoid direct confrontation with the people."

"What will you be doing in the meantime?" Caine asked sternly. "Once the cult figures out what we've done, they'll come after you next. Since, y'know, it's your grandson. Who else would ask us to intervene?"

The mayor nodded again, and while Abel couldn't see his expression from the back, it felt very solemn. "I know... I've been pulling some strings, and we'll be leaving on a ship in a few hours. Assuming we don't get caught."

"Tuckin' tail and runnin', huh?" Franky summarized bluntly, though there wasn't any real judgment in his tone.

The mayor was silent for a long moment, only the ambience of the tunnels answering them. Abel honestly didn't expect him to give an answer, so it surprised her when eventually he said, "There's no point saving something that clearly wants to die." There wasn't much to be said to such a grave conclusion. Abel certainly didn't blame them. Any sane person would've fled a long time ago, dangers of the Grand Line be damned. At least the sea wasn't deliberately malicious.

It was hard to judge distance and direction without any landmarks, but it felt to Abel like they made a curve southwest then northwest, which added credence to the mayor's claim about heading for the docks. They heard the rumble of thunder overhead, suggesting a storm was moving in. Because of course there was. What better way to make flight than during "it was a dark and stormy night"? Then again, it was always dark here, so that probably didn't count.

Within due time, the mayor paused before an old but reasonably well-maintained ladder. Hooking the lantern over his forearm, the mayor tentatively pressed his hands against the lid covering the entrance. Standing at the bottom, Abel saw from the reflecting light it was a manhole cover. Not the heavy lid like at Gerry's. And neither was it welded shut. The mayor's slowness in pushing it open seemed more from wanting to not draw undue attention to them if someone was outside rather than actual effort. Abel flinched as a drop of water hit her nose, unsure if it had begun raining or if moving the lid had just loosened some moisture.

The mayor peered around cautiously, probably resembling a rabbit slowly emerging from its den, checking there were no hawks about. The coast must've been clear, however, as soon enough he pushed the manhole cover aside completely and climbed out. Standing to the side, holding the lantern over the hole so they had some light, the mayor urged, "Hurry!" Droplets of water threatened to hit Abel in the eye as she climbed the ladder, emerging into a light drizzle. Mentally grumbling, Abel pulled her scarf up over her head, creating a makeshift hood to offer some minimal protection from the weather. She did not need to catch pneumonia again on top of everything else. Chopper was already going to give her an earful when she got back.

Once everyone was back on the surface, Franky commented, "This is the docks, all right. This is where we came the other day for scrap." Old shanties and warehouses surrounded them, reminding Abel of parts of Water Seven. So, the mayor had led them where he said he would. Good to know. But most importantly for their purposes, the streets were quiet, with nary another soul in sight.

Scraping drew Abel's attention away from their surroundings in time to watch the mayor slide the manhole cover shut. He pointed down the street, away from the sounds of the ocean. "You're on your own from here," he told them. "If you go north from here, you can skirt around the outskirts of the city. Hopefully, anyone intent on causing trouble will be on the opposite side of town. Even if you have to follow the coast, you'll get to the north shore eventually." Grimly, the man added, "Just stay away from the central square." With those final words of warning, the mayor disappeared into the docks, likely to make his own preparations for escape. Despite everything, Abel hoped they made it out safe.

Before they left, Abel pulled Watson out and attempted to check in with the crew. Unfortunately, no one answered the line. "I hope they're okay," Solomon worried.

"Pulling out this time of the night will be rough," Franky sagely advised. "I'm sure they're all busy with that." It made sense. If Nami was giving them orders and everyone was busy following them, they probably wouldn't have time to answer. Probably didn't even hear it, unless someone was lollygagging around in the galley. Even then, Nami would be giving them an earful.

Putting Watson safely in her pack, Abel said, "Let's get moving."

Their flight north proceeded in silence, save for the tapping of rain against the hard stones. Somehow, despite being sick, Abel found herself in the lead, with the others forming not quite a circle behind her. The hush that hovered over them as they walked felt thick and almost otherworldly. Abel told herself the tenseness in her shoulders was simply due to knowing people were looking for them. The stillness was both a blessing and a curse. It would make it easy to hear if they were being followed, but it also added to the pensive atmosphere weighing them down. Abel didn't necessarily worry about a confrontation, confident they could handle some scared townsfolk. They'd rather not hurt civilians, but even the most kind-hearted among the crew would fight back when cornered. It must be doubly uncomfortable for Caine and Solomon, as they weren't pirates and therefore probably not used to things going belly up like this. Then again, Abel knew her sister was more comfortable resorting to physical violence than even she was, and being a mercenary wasn't exactly a cushy, sterling job. Swords-for-hire didn't exactly have the best reputation.

Then again, it might be the very real threat from the cult that had her feeling more on edge than normal. She had seen firsthand what the cult was capable of... and by extension a glimpse of what they might have in store for her and her sister. Not that either planned to let it come to that. Still, knowing there was a fate worse than death was... unsettling. Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Granted, when Father Jean had read that to her, he was referring more to deities, but Abel'd come to realize that could apply to so much more.

Abel's steps stuttered for a second as a terrible thought shot through her mind unbidden. What about Father Jean? Would he be safe? Would the fear-induced madness of the townsfolk cause them to turn on him once they slipped through their grasp? He had been seen with them, after all. Abel told herself that he was a bit more insulated from the cult's wrath. The people seemed to like him, so he should be safe. Unless the cult twisted their arms and tried to use him as bait to lure them back in. Abel shifted her scarf further up around her face, blocking off the cold wind. One problem at a time, she told herself. They needed to get back to the ship in one piece before they worried about others. Besides, if they did use the Padre as bait, they'd make it known to the pirates.

Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention to the present. Glancing up to the side, Abel caught the tail end of shutters being closed on a window, the light flickering out being what had caught her attention. "We've been spotted," Caine murmured, having noticed it as well.

"Do they have a way to contact the mob?" Solomon asked.

Abel found that doubtful, but didn't want to rule anything out. "We should divert course, to be safe."

Abel turned left at the first intersection they came to, heading west. The mayor had said they could always fall back on hugging the shore, and she'd rather divert away from the more populated areas. They detoured just enough to throw off any pursuers before heading north again. It was about that time that Abel heard a buzzing in her pack. Watson chirped as Abel retrieved him, answering the line. "Yeah?"

Watson gave a sigh, mirroring the expression of the person on the other line. "Thanks to the warning, we were able to cast off in time," Nami reported. "Looks like the mayor was telling the truth. Nothing but angry townspeople. We got away without much trouble and are heading-"

"We're on our way," Abel interrupted, glancing around the seemingly empty streets. They couldn't be sure someone wasn't listening, so they probably shouldn't talk about where they were going. "We'll have to take a circuitous route, but we'll get there eventually."

Watson's face became more hardened and suspicious, so Abel assumed Nami had caught on to her furtiveness. "Roger. We'll meet up soon. I hope."

Abel's brow creased as she heard an odd noise over the line. "What's that sound?"

Nami scoffed. "Your dog," she snapped. "He's been having a fit since we cast off. Thinks we're gonna leave you, I guess."

Despite the situation, Abel couldn't help smirking at the warbling sounds coming from the line. "Poor baby," she cooed. "Be good, boy. I'll be back soon." Putting Watson aside, the group continued their secretive trek north.

For a while, it looked like they would have smooth sailing. Crossing one of the bridges that spanned the river bisecting the island had been a particularly tense moment. It was out in the open, with no cover. For a long moment, Abel made everyone wait in an alley, huddling tightly together out of sight as she scanned the bridge. Down the way, Abel caught a glimpse of orange light approaching the end of the street. Pulling her scarf closer around her to obscure her face while peeking around the corner, Abel watched as the light drew nearer. Based on the coloring and irregular flickering, she could only assume it was a torch of some sort. And that made her think it was part of the mob the mayor had warned her about. Who else walked around in the middle of the night carrying a torch? Probably had some pitchforks, as well.

Luckily, whoever it was didn't come fully into the street. Instead, the light began to fade, as if the wielder had turned down another street. Relaxing somewhat, Abel cast another discerning gaze across the bridge. Not wanting to wait too long and possibly risk getting caught out in the open, once she was as sure as she could be that no one was about, they hustled across the bridge, seeking safety in once again being surrounded by the tall, narrow buildings.

But Abel had long learned that just because things were going well was no guarantee that they would remain as such. And things could go belly up in a millisecond, usually when you weren't paying attention. Sneaking down a long stretch of road, flanked on the side by lines of seemingly-abandoned warehouses, a loud shriek startled them. Whipping around, Abel saw several of the eponymous ravens take to the sky, cawing as they went. While to anyone else discovering the benign source of the noise would put them at ease, Abel was a hunter and was trained to think differently. Any hunter will tell you once a bird sounds the alarm, you might as well give up the hunt. But what did that mean when you're the hunted?

Abel didn't have time to contemplate this, because she suddenly felt the crackle of life behind her. It was more a startled reflex than any honed skill that caused her to stumble back while whipping around to face the intruder, resulting in her just narrowly avoiding having the back of her head caved in. Abel felt someone grab her shoulders to keep her from falling over - she thought it was Solomon but couldn't remember in the moment who had been right behind her. Regardless, Abel managed to ground herself, drawing her crossbows to confront her would-be assailant.

A very large man, clearly some sort of laborer, strode from the shadows of the alleyway ahead of them. He was tall, taller than Abel, at least, and broad-built. His white shirt and suspenders were stained, though with what Abel neither knew nor cared. She was more focused on the crazed eyes that shone atop a scraggly beard and the large pipe clutched in his hands. Abel heard running footsteps closing in, and didn't have to look away to know they were about to be surrounded. Fingers caressing her crossbow triggers soothingly, Abel offered a single warning. "Step aside." She didn't expect it to do any good but figured she'd at least salve her conscience by offering the people a choice. If they got hurt, it was on them, now.

Obviously, the man paid little heed. If anything, he choked the grip on his pipe. He seemed to size the group up for a moment before striking again. Abel dived out of the way of the blow, and she heard the person behind her stagger back, hitting the side of the building. Quickly getting her feet under her, Abel spun around to face the burly man. She caught a glimpse of the rest of the group spreading out to face the small mob that had cornered them. All townsfolk with various makeshift weapons.

Brushing that all aside, Abel quickly fired two rounds into the burly man, striking him in the arm holding the pipe. His muscles must've been quite dense, as the bolts didn't penetrate far. But it was enough to cause him pain and stagger him for a second. Taking advantage of the pause, Solomon (who had been the one behind her), grasped the side of the burly man's head and slammed it into the window beside them, shattering it. The man slumped against the now broken frame, not out but definitely stunned.

Abel didn't have time to worry about that, however, as she heard a cry behind her. Slipping to the side, she dodged being impaled by an honest-to-god pitchfork. Fortunately, rather than being gutted, the prongs only ripped part of her shirt before stabbing into the ground. Her feet slid under her as Abel quickly shifted her weight, changing momentum to backhand the man on the end of the pole. Her form was sloppy against the slick, wet pavement, and she stumbled to the side, but her fist still made satisfying contact with the man's face, sending him careening to the ground.

Noticing burly man getting up again, Abel swiftly grabbed the pitchfork from the ground. As he turned back to face the fight, Abel jabbed the polearm as hard as she could at him. Not at his head, but at his arm. His wrist wedged between the prongs, effectively pinning him to the wall. As the man snarled at being trapped, Abel made a point of jamming the end of the pole into the ground, effectively wedging him in place for the time being.

Turning around, Abel quickly took stock of the situation. Caine was handling herself just fine, her zweihander easily cutting through the townsfolk's flimsy arms like paper mache. Franky had a few guys in a headlock. Solomon also had a man pinned to the ground, arm in a professional locking hold. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the man aiming a gun at him from behind. But Abel did and fired a few shots at the gunman. He cried out and dropped to the ground, gun scattering across the wet cobblestone. Solomon, only just realizing how close to being shot he'd been, offered a breathless thanks to his sister-in-law.

A shot rang out, causing Abel to duck as a bullet whizzed by her. She didn't even have time to turn, however, as something blurred over her head. "Strong Right!" Franky's fist hit the man from across the street, the chain connecting it to his body rattling over Abel's head as he reeled it back after felling the unseen man. Across the way, Caine caught a group of men with the broadside of her sword, swinging them up and into the top floor of the nearby factory like they weighed nothing.

It was while Abel was taking stock of the battle that she saw someone off the side toss a canister into the middle of things. She didn't know exactly what it was, but canisters usually weren't good. "Hit the deck!" she warned.

While she had expected a bomb of some sort, instead it released a gas. As the thick plumes raced into the air, Abel pulled her scarf close to shield her face from whatever it might be. It only took a few breaths penetrating her nose before Abel realized what it was, the burn quickly setting in. Tear gas. Her nose and lungs started to burn as the gas invaded, the slight after-aroma of lilac triggering in Abel's brain that it was xylyl bromide. Not that the information was useful as she began to cough, thus allowing the irritant to get into her mouth as well. Breathing quickly became difficult, and Abel heard her friends coughing distantly, apparently even Franky not immune to the irritant. Despite her eyes pinched closed, Abel felt them watering, and knew if she opened them she wouldn't see anything through the tears.

Incapacitated, Abel was defenseless to stop the blow that came. A heavy piece of metal slammed into the back of her head. Even though her eyes were already closed, Abel's vision went out of a second, and she staggered. Addled, she couldn't stop the person from picking her up like a sack of potatoes and chucking her into one of the unbroken windows. The glass cut up her hands and scratched her face before she fell hard on the stone floor inside. She was already having a hard time breathing from the xylyl bromide, but the impact made her lose what little wind she had. Blinded, breathless, and brained, Abel rolled sluggishly onto her back. Her ears wrung as she blinked through the tears, catching the outline of someone very tall standing over her. She could just barely make out hints of white, making her think it must be burly man again.

The man reached down, his large hand easily encircling Abel's throat as he squeezed. Abel's hands clutched at his, kicking feebly to get him off. But the man kept his body safely away from her legs. He seemed intent on choking the life from her, which seemed at odds with what the mayor had said their goal was. But Abel wasn't in the right frame of mind to worry about that.

Rattling distracted the man for a moment, and Abel saw his outline look up before a blur of white attacked his face. The man screamed, immediately dropping Abel, causing her already damaged skull to hit the ground. Groaning, Abel barely registered the raspy hissing and fluttering over the man's cries of pain and frustration at the new opponent. Rolling onto her feet rather drunkenly, Abel blinked hard, trying to clear her eyes enough to face her enemy. In the dark warehouse, it was hard to see, but the tiny bits of light from the windows as backdrop allowed her to see the man being attacked by something flying at his face. Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, Abel pulled out her shotgun and loaded a cartridge. She got as close as she could and fired on the man. At that distance, it didn't matter how good a shot she was. Immediately, the man flew back, crashing into a pile of boxes. The force was enough to send them all toppling, burying the man.

Panting and still very sore, head swimming, Abel heard Franky shout from outside, "Coup de Vent!" Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind blew through the streets, sending assailants- and more importantly, the tear gas- scattering on the breeze.

Peering painfully up, Abel caught a glimpse of heart-shaped white faces staring down at her from the rafters, large black eyes glaring at the intruder- her. Coughing, Abel kicked the burly man's leg for good measure, watching as it flopped limply about. Satisfied the man was out for the count, Abel clumsily climbed out the window and back onto the streets. All was quiet on the street, save for her companions' heavy breathing. The rain had begun to pick up, and Abel sighed as she tilted her head back, letting the rain soothe her inflamed eyes, washing the chemicals from her ducts.

"W..." Abel lowered her head, the cool water sliding down her face easing some of the ache. Solomon looked around the street in a near panic. "Where's Caine!?" It felt like a hunk of ice-cold lead landed in her gut when Abel realized her sister was nowhere to be seen. Only her sword lying discarded on the ground.

Shaking away the water from her face, Abel frantically surveyed the area, looking for any signs of her sister. But aside from the damage from their fight, she saw nothing. "They must've grabbed her during the smoke screen," Franky logically concluded, and Abel agreed. The only way they could've gotten her sister was to catch her off guard.

Yanking Watson out, Abel attempted to contact the ship. She knew they were supposed to meet at the north shore, but she felt this was sufficient enough an emergency to change plans. Unfortunately, the call didn't go through. Not like they just weren't answering, but they weren't getting any connection at all. Abel frowned as Watson stared blankly ahead, giving her this creepy thousand-yard stare, not even static coming through the line. "Fuck," she mumbled. Now was not the time for technical difficulties.

"Interference?" Franky asked.

"Perhaps," Abel answered, not knowing for sure. There should be no reason Watson couldn't connect to Crick. Distance wasn't usually an issue with transponder snails. Heck, he'd even somewhat been able to get through when they were in a different dimension. The only logical conclusion was something was messing with the signal. Could psychic waves be blocked? Abel wasn't up-to-date on that sort of technology. She frowned, the dead-eyed stare Watson was giving her disquieting her. Putting him back to sleep in her pack, Abel instructed, "Let's wake one of them up. Get them to tell us where the others went."

Picking out one of their assailants who looked like an easy squeeze, a kid barely out of his teens and very down on his luck, Franky swiftly bound the boy's arms and legs together to ensure he didn't try to run off. As he did so with almost disturbing ease (how often did he hogtie people), Solomon asked, "You really think he'll talk?"

Abel cast him a side-eye, directing her gaze away from the family of barn owls watching from the warehouse. "They're willing to murder people out of fear of the Sternenhimmels. I just have to give them something to be more afraid of." Solomon mumbled something under his breath at this. Something along the lines of how easy that should be for her. Abel made no response to her brother-in-law's acknowledgement of how scary she could be. She'd worked hard to engender that reputation with him.

The boy was forced back to consciousness by a sharp, stinging pain on his cheek. Blinking tearily, he slowly craned his neck back from the unnatural position it had been in, and immediately wished he could will himself back to unconsciousness. A woman loomed over him, holding him up by the collar of his shirt. With flight his primary drive, he tried to get away from the piercing stare digging into him beneath the darkening hood she wore, but swiftly found himself immobilized. That didn't stop him from wiggling violently, yet the woman's grip must've been made of steel, for it never wavered. Her other hand snapped up his chin in another vice-like grip, digging painfully into his face. The slap mark no doubt turning crimson at that moment throbbed even more under the agitation.

The boy faintly saw two men behind the woman, but she forced his attention to remain focused on her, fingers digging in so hard his jaw hurt. The woman's face stood completely blank, hard and unyielding as a monument in a tomb. She paid no heed to the water dripping down her face. But her eyes... The boy wanted to look away, but the woman refused him that mercy. They bore into him, the only trace of emotion in her otherwise masked visage. They burned into him, and not just from the lingering redness from the gas. Somehow, she glared at him without creasing her brows. They shone with a fire from within that reminded him of a crazed animal. Like an angry wolf, preparing to pounce.

With great measure, the woman finally spoke. "Wohin haben sie meine Schwester gebracht?" Even to his own ears, the Germanic sounded harsh and demanding. Blinking, the boy only then realized that this woman must've been one of the pair of twins they were supposed to capture. So, they'd gotten one.

The boy screwed his lips shut. He knew what could happen if he talked.

The woman seemed to have expected this response. "Lieber zur Rechten des Teufels als auf seinem Weg, oder?" The boy felt a little twinge of guilt. The woman moved even closer, till her eyes were all he could see. "Die Sternenhimmels sind jetzt nicht hier, oder? Was soll dich jetzt vor mir schützen?" The boy felt a shiver run down his spine at the slow, measured question. Why was she bringing up the Sternenhimmels? How did she even know about them?

With an oxymoronic cold fury, the woman continued to press, "Sie mögen diese Insel im Griff haben, aber ihre Reichweite ist nicht so groß, wie Sie vielleicht denken. Außerhalb dieses Scheißlochs hat noch niemand von ihnen oder ihrem Gott gehört." The boy's brow furrowed. That... wasn't the threat he was expecting. What did she mean, no one knew about the cult's god? What point was she trying to make, and why to him? The woman's eyes flickered to something behind him, and for a reason that escaped him that terrified him more than anything so far. Especially when she met his gaze again and leaned even closer. He'd have flinched at the feeling of her cold breath on his ear - Why was it so much colder than the cool night air around them? - had she not still held him in a death grip. "Ich denke, es ist Zeit zu lernen, dass es auf dieser Welt größere Dinge gibt, vor denen man Angst haben muss." Slowly leaning back just enough to meet his eyes again, the woman added, "Mich."

He expected many things to follow after such an ominous statement, but one of them wasn't for the woman to let go of him and walk around. Without her support, and unable to use his hands, the boy fell back with a breathless thud. Hearing her footsteps get further away, the boy spared a glanced toward her two male companions. The blond man seemed almost as bothered by the display as he was, while the strange blue-haired man stood with his arms crossed, unconcerned. The grating sound of rusted metal rubbing against stone, followed by angry shrieking, snapped the boy's attention back to the real threat. Craning his neck back, he only caught a glimpse of the woman hoisting something seemingly heavy off the ground from just inside one of the warehouse doorways. He couldn't see it, but heard something vigorously hitting thin metal, the tell-tale sound of a cage.

The woman kept the object out of his view as she returned. Had he been watching the men, he would've noticed how they turned a bit blue in the face. Then again, it might be better for him if he didn't see what was coming. The woman set the heavy cage down out of view. Before the boy could react, she'd snatched him up with surprising ease. Spinning him around, she shoved him belly-first back to the ground, shoving his head inside the object she'd retrieved. Bent, rusted wires dug painfully into his shoulders and collarbones as his head filled the open end of the trapping cage. It was just big enough for his head to comfortably fit down to his shoulders. The boy tried desperately to wiggle free, but the woman sat on his back, holding him down.

It was only when his struggling lessened that the boy realized the true horror of his situation, as rattling on the far end not attributable to him grew even louder. All the blood drained from the boy's face, and he almost lost control of his bowels when he met eyes with his roommate: a very angry, starving rat. The housecat-sized rat was quite emaciated, clearly having been stuck in the cage, forgotten, for some time. The temptation of fresh meat, so tantalizing close, had sent the starving beast into a frenzy. It kept throwing itself at the flimsy mesh door separating it from the boy's face, so close he could feel the kiss of its claws against his nose as it tried to reach him through the door. That mesh door separating the compartments was the only thing saving him... and the woman's hand was on the release.

"Sag mir, wohin sie meine Schwester gebracht haben." The woman repeated her prior question, now in the form of a demand. She didn't need to speak the threat. The consequence of not giving the information was quite obvious. It was still fear that held the boy's tongue, though of who even he didn't know. The woman raised the mesh door just slightly, but it was enough for the rat to renew its efforts, trying to wedge its narrow, drooling muzzle through the offered gap. The boy was suddenly very grateful for the woman's iron grip, as that was the only thing keeping the rat from forcing its way through. "Wenn du es mir sagst, lasse ich dich leben. Haben die Sternenhimmels jemals so viel geboten?"

With death literally staring him in the eyes and reaching for him, the nebulous threat of the cult dulled in comparison. "Der Glockenturm!" he shrieked, wincing as this made the rat squeal even louder. The woman didn't lower the door, but neither did she raise it. Bolstered by the will to live and not have his face mauled, he continued, "Der Uhrturmplatz," he elaborated.

The boy trembled as all fell silent, save the hungry rat. He feared the woman would still release it upon him. However, the door slid fully closed again, and soon after the woman got off his back and he felt her pulling his head out of the cage. The boy breathed heavily, feeling like he'd run a marathon. The lingering silence hung heavy in the air, and he was afraid to move or make any sound to draw attention to the fact he was still alive, lest someone change their mind. The boy flinched when a bolt killed the rat, the silent cage carelessly kicked to the side. Refusing to meet the woman's gaze as she walked around behind him, he suddenly felt weight return to his arms as they were cut free from their bonds.

Trembling in tentative relief, the boy rubbed his chafed wrists. Behind him, the woman warned, "Wenn Sie dem Sternenhimmel davon erzählen, bekommen Sie keine weitere Chance."

He didn't know why he couldn't hold his tongue, but the boy couldn't keep from retorting, "Es waren nicht die Sternenhimmels." Maybe it was spite, getting back at the woman by shattering what she seemed to think was going on. "Zwillinge sind schlechte Vorzeichen. Wir... sie dachten, wenn sie dich als Opfer anbieten würden, würden die Morde aufhören."

He thought he'd feel triumphant, or at least little vindicated, by the sudden flash of fear that flickered across hazel eyes. Instead, however, it made him feel more like crap about what he'd just admitted... what he'd tried to be part of. That expression was all too human, causing guilt to well up inside him. "Opfer," the woman repeated the single, terrifying word.

Casting his eyes to the ground, unable to meet the woman's eyes for entirely different reasons now, he mumbled, "Scheiterhaufen."

The woman sucked in a breath before saying something in a tongue he didn't understand to her companions and running off in the direction of the clocktower square. The boy, now alone, slowly untied his legs. Even once they were free, he continued to sit there for a long moment, staring unseeingly at the unconscious men around him. He looked at them before his eyes fell on the dead rat, trapped and left to starve in a cage. And somehow, despite all that, he couldn't help feeling like the monster.

"Where are we going?" Solomon asked as he and Franky ran alongside Abel. They'd been completely out of the loop during the entire exchange.

"The clocktower square," Abel answered shortly, racing through the streets, any thoughts of avoiding being seen thrown out the window.

"Looks like all that sneaking around didn't do us any good in the end," Franky commented. "We should've kicked the cult's ass from the beginning."

Abel didn't take her eyes off the road, but she did respond, "Not the cult. The mayor got that part wrong." Sensing the guys' confusion, Abel relayed what the boy had said succinctly, "The cult's not behind this- not directly. The people are taking matters into their own hands. They're trying to appease their Forgotten God." She wasn't intentionally being vague, but she didn't want to waste time standing around chatting. The boy's words kept swirling around in her head. Opfer. Scheiterhaufen. She couldn't blame Haverhill Fever for the nausea curling in her stomach. She swallowed the bile down. Now was not the time.

"Should we call for backup?" Solomon asked. When Abel frowned but gave no answer, instead only picking up the pace even more, he pressed again, "Abel-san?"

Abel's tenuous grasp on her nerves frayed even further, leading to her snapping, "What part of Caine being burnt at the stake as a sacrifice to a heathen god do you not understand!?" Any thought that they weren't privy to that information didn't cross Abel's adrenaline-soaked mind at that moment. Rare, sickening anxiety and worry was all she could feel. "If you've got time for chatter, you can clearly run faster," she huffed, ignoring the fatigue in her own muscles to push on.

Let it never be said Abel didn't have a way with words, even when she wasn't trying. Stunned silence swiftly morphed into grim determination, and Solomon actually managed to pass Abel as they ran, using every bit of his long stride to overtake her. "Follow the tower," Abel urged, pointing to the tall, glowing tower visible from anywhere in the town. It stood out like a beacon. And like moths to a flame (Abel winced at the mental allegory), they headed straight for it.

Abel couldn't remember the last time she'd run so fast. Maybe Alabasta, when they were looking for the bomb about to go off? In her mind, this situation was even more dire. She pushed down any feelings of pain in her muscles and forced her lungs to ignore their burning. What was a little physical pain when compared to emotional anguish? A stitch was just beginning to form in her side when, over her panting, Abel caught a warm yet bone-chilling fragrance on the wind. Smoke. Her heart pounded for an entirely different reason, taking a corner so fast her feet nearly slid from under her in the rain. In the distance, she heard voices, and caught a glimpse of an orange glow. Abel grit her teeth, hands already flying to her weapons, fully prepared to unleash hell on whoever they found. They would come to learn that there was more to fear in this world than the wrath of an angry god. Assuming she deigned to leave anyone alive to pass on the lesson.

Racing into the clearing of the square, Abel processed the scene without missing a beat. A large mob of people stood in the square, close to the clocktower itself. Most of them were armed with makeshift weapons and torches, casting a bright glow across the otherwise dark courtyard. But beyond that sea of pathetic excuses of humanity was where Abel's attention focused. A large pyre had been built blocking one of the streets, creating a massive pile of tinder, enough to literally climb up on. And at the apex, in the center, they'd strung up Caine on what amounted to a massive stake. Her head rested slumped forward on her chest, indicating she was still unconscious, though that was also obvious from the lack of any struggle from her sister.

Abel didn't waste a second. "Stay close," she ordered. Normally it was better to spread out, pincer attack-style, but steamrolling their way straight down the middle felt like the best shot to break through quickly. The fire hadn't started yet, and she intended to keep it that way. Aiming up, Abel loosed a shot. "Arrow Hail!" As the shot streaked into the sky, this caught the attention of the townsfolk. But before they could do more than give a shout and point in their direction, arrows began to rain down upon them. They screamed and panicked, some running for cover, their torches offering little in the way of protection. That spread the crowd out a bit, but it was still a sea of people for them to wade through to get to her sister. They turned as one, moving in on the pirates like a wave.

"Beans Left!" Twisting his wrist down, Franky opened fire upon the crowd in a wash of pellets. Although inaccurate, with the way the crowd was bunched up, any random spray would hit something, meaning people fell at every turn.

Following up the attack, Abel fired as well. "Scatter Shot!" Her arrow hit one of the men, breaking and streaking off to catch a few standing around him. Pressing the lead, Abel tossed a bola bomb into the thick as well, dead ahead. She didn't even step back, merely ducking to tank the force of theshockwave, her clothes rustling violently. That had opened up a big whole in their defense.

Taking advantage of the confusion from the bomb, Franky sucked in a deep breath. "Fresh Fire!" Blowing out, Franky spat out a string of fire in a way that would've made Luffy's brother proud. In bitter irony, many people were caught up in the flames, sending them screaming and running.

Franky should've reconsidered that attack, however, as one of the people on fire staggered back, falling into the pyre. The only explanation for how quickly the tinder burst into flame was that they villagers had used some accelerant. The torrent of fire that billowed up pulled a cry of panic unbidden from Abel's throat as it grew from the base toward the stake like a ravenous beast. If felt like everything outside of her and the fire disappeared as tunnel vision began to kick, body frozen as the inferno reached for her sister to burn her alive. Everything but the bright orange fire greyed out and became fuzzy. Unheeding of the enemies around them, Abel almost ran straight through them... except someone beat her to it.

It was only due to Solomon nearly knocking Abel over as he ran by that she snapped out of her panic. The tall, skinny man weaved through the mob, elbowing and punching at anyone who tried to stop him, all the while shouting Caine's name in vain hopes of raising her. Sucking in a breath to steel herself, Abel threw out one of her trip mines, skidding it under the crowds' feet and ahead of Solomon. Aiming low, Abel's arrow struck the trigger, a blast of air from the dial inside sent a group of them flying into the air, opening up a pathway.

By this point, the flames were beginning to lick at Caine's feet, having rapidly reached the top of the tinder. Without a single thought of self-preservation, Solomon shoved the last person out of his way, into the fire, before running straight into the conflagration. The burning tinders made his feet unsteady, and he even fell at one point, hands catching on the searing logs. Rather than flee, however, Solomon dug in- literally. He dug his hands and feet into the burning tinder and threw himself up to the top of the pile.

Abel's own limbs from equal parts numb and tingling from the panic threatening to overtake her. Quelling it, using it to fuel her movement, Abel fired upon a few people who now stood between her and her sister, any thoughts of taking mercy long gone. You don't get to burn someone alive and then expect mercy. To her side, she heard Franky give a holler, slinging a man into the crowd, widening the gap. Her eyes remained fixated on her sister and Solomon finally reaching her, but she should've been paying more attention. Then she might not have been blindsided, knocked over onto her back. The fall hit right on where she'd been struck in the head before, causing Abel's vision to black out, her weapons scattering somewhere.

Before she could even shake her head to clear the fog, she felt two sets of hands grab her. One set hoisted her feet up, trapping them against their body, while the other set hooked her arms. She felt her body being lifted, dangling between two people like a gored pig ready for the fire. And that seemed to be their intent as well, as Abel felt the warmth of the raging fire increasing, the heady scent of the smoke clogging her nose. Around her, the people began to shout and chant, the frenzied Germanic creating a sense of blind hysteria in the hunter. The heat was too much... she couldn't move... she was sweating... it was like being trapped in the tunnel with the rats all over again. The raging fire loomed before her, defenseless, a cacophony of murderous intent ringing in her ears louder than her own thoughts. Hate... fear... anger... panic... The flames were blinding, the heat drying her eyes out. Darkness felt like it closed around her despite the practical sun staring her in the face. It was hot and loud and she couldn't breathe and her heart was about to explode-

A scream came from Abel's throat and she flailed wildly, twisting her body in ways that shouldn't be possible to escape the death they were intent on bringing her to. Was there any worse way to die than being burnt alive? Get out, get out, get out! Abel flailed and kicked blindly, barely registering that one hand had come free from its bind. It was only due to her rabid desire to make them let go that she managed to bring said hand up to the captive behind her. Without any real plan, she reached for whatever she could grab. Her shoulder popped unpleasantly from the strain but she felt her nails rake across one of her assailant's faces. A moment of clarity as her fingers gripped at hair, and Abel jammed her thumb where the eye should be. She knew she'd hit the mark when she felt something wet give way and the person bellowed. Suddenly the person holding her arms was gone, sending her upper body careening with the ground, once again striking that spot on the back of her head. Her legs remained trapped by the other person, but they now struggled to keep hold with the change in weight. Blinking back tears, and Abel pulled her legs to her chest before kicking out, sending the person falling back into the pyre.

The wet ground helped Abel come back to herself, the rain soaking her face dousing some of the panic until she could think straight. Shaken, Abel struggled to her feet, one side uncomfortably hot due to her proximity to the pyre. She nearly tripped on a tinder as she stood. Abel's scattered brain struggled to focus. She shook her head, angry at herself for losing focus when there were more important things right now. Holding a hand to her head as she rested on one knee, Abel peered up to discover Franky had made it to join Solomon, but they were struggling to free Caine from her binds. The ropes were too thick to untie or cut easily. By now, the kindling was completely aflame, likened to the sun dipping down to the earth. Solomon was smartly trying to use his wet coat to cover Caine, offering some protection, even while the flames licked at him. He stood like a buffer between them and his wife, refusing to leave even as he coughed on the thick, black smoke surrounding them. Behind, Franky worked to cut the thick ropes with... Caine's sword? Abel hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

A scream beside her reminded Abel they were still in the thick of it. Yanking her head around, she caught a man stumbling away from her as something attacked his face. A blur of grey and angry yowling landed on the ground before darting off between everyone's legs. Mentally berating herself, Abel grabbed a flame dial from her pack and held it into the flames. She scanned the ground for something before yanking her hand away from the sweltering flames, jamming the dial into her shotgun. "Hurry the fuck up!" she shouted encouragingly to the guys as she turned her shotgun on the mob, unleashing her own hellfire upon them. Someday she might worry at how satisfying it felt to see them running from fire, but that wasn't her concern right now. With a break in the crowd, Abel ran forward to retrieve her fallen bow before launching another attack. "Chain Gang!" Firing upon the ground, Abel cast out a blockade of chains, creating a barrier between them and the crowd. For good measure, she tossed out a few more bola bombs, sending more people scattering as they exploded.

"Get back!" she heard Franky warn. "Strong Hammer!" Upon hearing the cracking of wood, Abel glanced back to see Franky had broken the base of the stake with his punch. It wasn't enough to break it all the way through. Wrapping his massive arms around the stake, Franky heaved with all this might, twisting, until finally the stake broke from its base. Less carefully than she would've liked, Franky tossed the stake behind the pyre, where it landed on its side, narrowly avoiding crushing Caine beneath its weight. Casting one final glare toward the crowd, still trying to get to them but in disarray, Abel took a breath before plunging into the fire, over the pyre, and out of sight of the mob.

By the time she reached them, Franky had finally managed to cut the binds from Caine. A task much easier to accomplish when not surrounded by fire and enemies. Or because the fire had burnt most of them. Solomon quickly picked Caine up, cradling her as he checked her body for burns. Her clothes were singed in places, particularly around her legs, and there was soot on her face and hair. Caine's breathing was raspier than Abel would've liked, but she was still breathing, which helped relieve most of Abel's panic. Still hearing the shouts of angry Germanic behind her, Abel urged simply, "Move." The pyre was now to their benefit, blocking the people from them, but not for long. Gathering his wife, Solomon pulled her body into a fireman's carry, Caine's muscle mass making her too heavy for him to carry any other way. He gripped her limbs tightly, raising his ashen face to meet Abel's for a moment. The man seemed to have suffered more from the fire than Caine, bits of angry red visible on his face. Abel said nothing.

Rustling caused them all to tense, preparing for an attack. It came as a surprise, therefore, when a little ball of grey fur sauntered up to them. They all stared at Charlie, wondering where the cat had come from. Though... was his fur a bit singed? And was his ear looking burnt along the edge? It took Abel's brain a second to connect with the grey hissing blur that had thrown itself into the fray earlier, drawing a huff from her. The cat's sense of timing was beginning to get scary. Her questioning of the cat's insight grew even further when he turned to leave, before pausing to glance back at them. Was he... telling them to follow him?

Maybe it was the stress and desperation getting to her. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been saved twice now by animals. Or maybe it was because she'd spent months traveling with a doctor who could translate animals. Regardless, Abel decided to follow the cat. As she stepped after him, Charlie gave what looked like a pleased stare before darting off down the street. The guys had no choice but to follow Abel as she ran after him. "Are we really following a cat?" Franky asked as they ran.

"Got a better plan?" Abel retorted, breaking off with another cough from the lingering smoke.

Charlie led them through some alleys, always pausing to check they were keeping up, before he jumped through a busted window into an old building. Giving no thought to this being breaking and entering, Abel climbed through, entering into someone's cellar. Abel wasn't exactly pleased by the sight she found inside: Charlie sitting atop another hatch to the catacombs. The thought of going back down made her feel physically ill, but she couldn't deny it was probably safer than trying to traverse the streets with the whole town trying to kill them.

Pursing her lips, Abel murmured to the cat, "I hope you know where we're going," as she opened the hatch. Charlie trilled at her before leaping onto her shoulder to hitch a ride down. Checking back as Franky helped Solomon pass Caine through the window, Abel began her descent. The ladder wasn't too long, and soon her feet touched the bottom. Feeling Charlie jump off her shoulder, Abel pulled out Caine's zippo and flicked it to life. The tiny flame didn't illuminate much, but it was better than wandering around blind. Funny, how suddenly the Empire of the Dead felt far safer than the surface world.

"Here," Franky called down. Abel had to close the lighter to help haul Caine down into the tunnels, carefully supporting her as he lowered her body down. Leaning her body against her, Abel stepped back to let the guys down.

Abel wasn't normally one for a full-frontal hug, but right now it was the only thing grounding her. While she could've done without the limp weight, Caine was solid in her arms, her raspy breathing unignorable as her chest moved against Abel's. Taking a moment, standing there alone in the dark, Abel buried her face in Caine's neck and breathed deep. Her arms wrapped tighter, the other unable to complain, or point out the slight catch in her chest as Abel teetered on the edge of relief. The scent of smoke was overpowering, but beneath it Abel noticed something else. She felt her lips quirk. Since when had her sister taken to wearing perfume? What was it about near-death experiences that made little things more salient?

Abel was in her own little world until she heard the others drop down. Leaning back slightly, her relief-numbed fingers flicked the lighter open again so they could see. Wordlessly, Solomon took his wife back, and Abel allowed it, taking the lead again. The fact that Charlie remained, patiently waiting for them to follow, was further testament to his intelligence and intent. Abel wondered if the cat had seen their embrace. Seeing they were all set, Charlie trotted off into the darkness, leaving them to follow.

Had she not lived the life she had up to this point, Abel would've found it preposterous that she was relying on a tomcat to lead them safely through a maze of tombs. I really need to reconsider the direction my life has taken sometime, Abel told herself. The hunter wondered if this was perhaps part of Charlie's hunting grounds. Cats were very territorial, after all, and would patrol for threats. He certainly seemed sure of himself, daintily padding along just outside their small cone of light. At least Abel knew they were going north, hopefully cutting through the more populated section of the city. The less people she had to deal with right now, the better. Abel wasn't in the mood to be merciful.

She felt her ire bubbling up as she thought about it. Not a lot got to Abel, but very real threats to her family were one of the few things she didn't just brush off. Especially outright murder. She couldn't find it within herself to excuse the townspeople's behavior. Fear made people do stupid things, sure, but that was cold-hearted, calculated maliciousness. Assuming the boy was truthful, and she had no reason to think otherwise, no one was twisting their arms here. They simply decided themselves that murdering people was the best way to save their skins. People had to face the consequences of their actions, and had no one to blame but themselves if Abel responded in kind. She didn't want to kill people. But if it came down to choosing between her family and a random psychotic stranger...

Charlie's trilling distracted Abel from her thoughts, focusing ahead again. Heh... the catacombs must be losing the edge if Abel could get lost in thought while traveling. The cat stood pawing at the base of a ladder leading to the surface. Abel frowned as she tilted the light to see better. This exit wasn't as... stable as the previous ones. Rather than metal rungs embedded into stone and a thick hatch at the top, a wooden ladder leaned precariously against the wall, reaching up to an old wooden trapdoor. Abel's brow creased when she noticed that the ceiling above them was wood. Very old, rotting wood.

Putting the lighter away, Abel carefully tried the ladder, tentatively putting the weight of one foot on the lowest rung. Standing on that foot, the creaking sound the wood made in response wasn't exactly comforting. She ignored Charlie as he leapt up onto her shoulder, hitching a ride out. Grasping the side of the ladder, Abel put both feet on the rung. While she felt the wood sag a bit, it did hold. Casting a furtive gaze at her companions in the dark, Abel carefully climbed, trying to slowly add her weight as she went. The hatch above had an old padlock keeping it shut. Rather than questioning why the padlock was on the inside, Abel pulled out her rifle. The wood was so rotted that a few rounds with the butt of the rifle broke the wood around it, sending the lock clattering to the ground.

Abel peered through the crack but couldn't see much in the dark. Listening for any sounds indicating someone had heard them, like running footsteps or shouting, when she heard none, Abel opened the hatch. The room she exited into looked as dilapidated as the wood, filled with cobwebs and empty shelves. The hatch got stuck a bit, forcing Abel to elbow it out of the way. The floor groaned disquietingly as she climbed out, creaking in that way that only very old, neglected houses could. Years of neglect and water damage made the floor soft, and the give of it made Abel nervous. "Hurry," she whispered.

"Here," Solomon called, lifting Caine's body as best he could to the opening. Kneeling, Abel grasped her sister by under her arms and hoisted her up. Her dead weight was hard to maneuver, and she might've snagged Caine's pants at one point, but she managed to shimmy her sister up.

The entire room seemed to complain as Abel stood supporting her sister, waiting for Solomon to climb out. Abel kept eyeing the door. Some of the slats were missing, allowing her to vaguely see outside. Not another soul could be seen, which made Abel hopeful they were far enough off the beaten path to go unnoticed. Franky followed after Solomon, being the heaviest of the three so naturally going last. As he did, Solomon took Caine again, murmuring something to her unconscious form.

Unfortunately, apparently a cyborg was beyond the weight limit of the old, rotted floor. Abel heard the wood splinter, barely registering Franky dipping as the floor gave way beneath him. Instinctively, Abel lunged forward, pushing the man toward the door and out of the way of the collapsing floor. Of course, this left her standing on the disintegrating wood, and Abel barely had time to gasp before her body went hurtling down into the darkness. She had the foresight to curl into a ball, so she didn't fall flat on her face, instead her shoulder and side taking the brunt of the impact. "Abel!" she heard Solomon shout over the ringing in her ears.

Shaking the dust off her head, Abel craned up to see a big hole in the ceiling where she'd fallen. Her concerned brother-in-law peered down at her, seeming to have passed Caine over the Franky. Glancing around, Abel asked, "Where's Charlie?" The cat had been on her shoulder a second ago, but she couldn't see him now.

Solomon looked like he wanted to make a face, like why was Abel asking about the cat instead of worrying about herself, but refrained. Instead, he answered, "He's up here." He reached a hand through the hole. "C'mon," he urged, wiggling his fingers at Abel. Pushing herself up with her uninjured arm, Abel grabbed on. The moment she did, however, she immediately regretted it, as she heard the ground popping and cracking under the combined weight.

"Look out!" Franky shouted from above. Abel had already let go, not wanting to pull Solomon down with her, but the man's face suddenly disappeared from view. The ungodly cacophony from above sent Abel ducking and running for cover. Chunks of old wood fell from the ceiling, but it was more than just the floor collapsing. The deafening racket made it sound like the entire building they'd been in had collapsed, with loud crashes echoing through the tunnel as numerous heavy things fell on it topside. Then, just as suddenly as it began, silence reigned one more, again leaving Abel's ears ringing.

Coughing through the dust, Abel opened her lighter so she could see. Part of the ceiling had fallen into the tunnel, but most of it remained in place. Eyes narrowing, Abel studied the few gaps above, and could only conclude that her original assessment was accurate, and the building had caved in. Somehow the entire thing hadn't fallen into the tunnel, but now there was no way out through the hatch. The ladder dangled brokenly; the hole previously there now clogged with wooden debris. Abel cursed under her breath, until she heard a voice. "Abel! Can you hear me!?" It was Solomon.

Staring at the ceiling, Abel couldn't see the man anywhere. But she answered nonetheless, "Yes!"

It sounded like he was trying to move the debris, perhaps trying to dig a path for Abel, when she heard Franky shout, "Don't worry, babe. I'll have you out in a jiffy."

"Someone's coming!" Solomon warned. They must've heard the commotion and come to investigate.

As much as she didn't want to say it, Abel advised, "Get Caine back to the ship! I'll find another route!" She didn't want them to risk a confrontation with her sister in that state. There was a brief pause above, giving Abel the impression they might be arguing about it, before Franky shouted an acknowledgement and for her to be safe before she was left in silence again.

Abel waited until she was left in silence before making her feelings about the situation known. She kicked what remained of the ladder, sending it skittering against the ground, before tucking her face in the crook of her arm not holding the lighter and letting out a muffled scream. A few choice words were included for good measure as she vented. Why was the island intent on driving her mad? She was sick, tired, cold, with a raging headache thanks to the stress combined with multiple repeat head injuries, and the cherry on all that was being stuck alone in the catacombs knowing full well monsters of the human and inhuman variety lurked in the dark. She was not having a good time, to say the least.

A few beats of silence passed before Abel had the strength to face her situation again, raising her head from her elbow. On a whim and a hope, Abel pulled Watson out again, only to find him giving her the same thousand-yard stare. Of course it couldn't be that easy. She let out a frustrated breath, cheeks puffing out from the force of the exhale, sucking in another deep breath afterwards to calm herself. Had she not felt so miserable, Abel probably would've found it easier to face the situation with more grace, but she felt she had a right to be petulant. All right, Abel, she told herself, trying to psych herself up. You just need to find a door. Any door. Lighter held aloft, Abel pulled out a knife from her pack. Not for self-defense (that's what her bows and gun was for) but to mark any turns she took. Without a map or Nami's help, she'd be running blind. At least she could stop herself from going in circles.

Thus, with a heavy sigh, Abel ventured into the dark alone.

As she headed roughly north, Abel kept her eyes and ears peeled for any signs of danger. She could tell she was still on the right track based on the dampness of the tunnels, which fit with what Leif said about the northern caves. Or it could just be from the storm outside. Occasionally Abel heard a peal of thunder from outside. What a perfect backdrop to this cock-up cascade they had going on. Whenever she passed an intersection, Abel used her knife to score the walls in a way that would be obvious to her if she saw it again, but not to anyone else. A modified version of the old hunter trick of breaking branches to mark your path. Hopefully this would prevent her from forgetting the path she'd taken if she did have to double-back.

It didn't take long before Abel found another hatch, this one considerably sturdier than the last. Giving the metal lid a shove, Abel found she couldn't move it on her own. It was either locked from the other side or even sealed. Gripping her knife between her teeth, Abel fished out her impact dial. Holding it against the hatch, Abel pushed the trigger... only for it to sputter pathetically. Abel wasn't sure it was possible to sigh any harder. Out of juice. And she didn't have anything with enough oomph to recharge it on the fly. She'd have to look elsewhere.

Or she would have, had her hair not suddenly stood on end as familiar raspy breathing reached her ears. Her head snapped to the right and she held her breath. The sound was as unmistakable as ever. Straining to see in the gloom beyond her little circle, Abel contemplated what to do. She could go back, but heading deeper into the city to find an exit wasn't appealing. Making a quick decision, hearing the clicking of its strange feet growing slowly yet steadily closer, Abel carefully set the lighter on the ground and silently stepped back into the shadows. With barely a whisper of noise, Abel readied her bow.

While she still firmly believed the creature couldn't see, it might have heard the commotion from earlier, or perhaps even smelled the faint smoke from the lighter. Or maybe it just mindlessly wandered around. Ordinarily, Abel felt perfectly safe in the shadows, but here she felt like an unwelcomed intruder. The ones in the catacombs felt much colder than normal, foreign, rejecting all by the dead into its thrall. It almost felt like cold hands wrapping around her exposed parts, her wrists and neck, forcing her to hunker down more in her scarf as she waited patiently.

It wasn't long before her patience paid off, and Abel caught a glimpse of movement just beyond the light. The way the creature writhed made her stomach roll. It looked unnaturally... rubbery. And given that she traveled with a rubber man, that was saying something. She heard its tap dancing pace as it gave pause before staggering closer. Abel already had her bow trained up, ready to take a clean shot when she had it. But she nearly lost her grip once the thing finally came into the light, the sheer alienness of the beast startling Abel despite having prepared herself.

If she'd had any hypothesis before that this thing wasn't the result of the cult's weird practices, they were history now. There was no way this abomination wasn't one of their experiments. It looked far too much like the boy in the box, or the trapped villagers, for it to be a coincidence. Her brain couldn't quite process what she was seeing. Not because it was indescribable, but just at the... how? The best way Abel could describe it was to imagine taking three people and forcing them to stand back-to-back-to-back, then covering them in a fleshy sack so they couldn't escape and forcing them to walk in a squat, coordinating three sets of legs in a bastardized six-legged race. The resulting creature looked uncannily spider-ish. Despite the three bodies that made up what Abel had previously called the central stalk, it still looked emaciated. Like the flesh was stretched too tight over just bones. One of the "faces" was turned in Abel's direction, allowing her to observe that there were no facial features visible, much like the Noppera-bo. How was this thing still alive if it couldn't eat? What, did the cultists regularly inject it with sugar water?

All three "bodies" had short, nubby, arm-like protrusion, giving Abel a very vivid impression of their hands either having been cut off or rotted off. The legs lacked real feet, seemingly worn down to bloody bone protrusions, resulting in the sounds that Abel had previously thought were claws. Abel winced as she now understood the strange gait, as that couldn't be pleasant to walk on. The body closest to her had an overall feminine shape, along with what had once been breasts but were now just sunken blobs of flesh on the chest. And despite walking essentially in a squat with legs splayed, Abel observed no... nether regions. From a purely anatomical perspective, this thing shouldn't be alive.

As the bodies writhed, Abel couldn't help thinking it looked like the bodies were trying to escape, thrashing against bonds that could never break because it was its own skin. That thought helped alleviate a smidge of the abject horror Abel felt, leaving an inkling of pity behind. It made her think of a book she'd seen once... I have no mouth and I must scream. How could she let this thing live? What kind of life was this? Teetering on the precipice of death, but never falling, tormented for eternity to wander these dank halls forced to serve as a watchdog to the very people who did this to them. Death was the only mercy Abel could offer.

The shot was clean, a single arrow straight through the front head. It didn't surprise Abel when only one set of legs sagged, the other two growing frenzied and hissing like a snake. Dragging the literal dead-weight, it tried to turn to lunge toward Abel, at least having enough wherewithal to know the direction of the attack. But two more arrows swiftly followed, and in short order the poor beast collapsed in a pile.

Retrieving her lighter from where it narrowly missed being fallen on, Abel gazed pityingly at the monstrosity. Hopefully now the souls trapped could finally rest. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Dominie. Et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace.

With that "victory" under her belt, Abel felt a little less tense as she ventured on. The deafening silence of the tunnels was her only companion. Occasionally another sound would break through, such as a roll of thunder from the surface echoing off the hollow walls, or the plink of water as she stepped in a particularly deep puddle. If she listened hard enough, she could even hear the faint whisper of her lighter flickering as she moved. She took it slow. She couldn't see far outside her little sphere of light, and she wasn't willing to say there weren't more enemies down here with her.

The silence was even more noticeable due to Abel's unusually quiet mind. Or perhaps focused was a better term. On her own, and in such a treacherous place, she couldn't afford to let her mind wander as it usually did. True stillness of mind was rare for the hunter. But now, she tried to focus her attention solely on what was going on around her. The omnipresent press of the heavy emptiness on her ears... how her eyes strained to see the path ahead... the feeling of her hand rubbing her sleeves to generate some much-needed warmth... her tired joints... It was only then Abel realized how rarely she was utterly alone nowadays. Privacy was hard to come by on a ship, and even when alone there was usually someone on the other side of the door. The distinct lack of "life" in the tunnels was palpable, adding to her sense of trepidation.

The tunnels ahead suddenly veered off, splitting in two different directions. As both seemed to head north at slightly different angles, Abel wasn't sure which to pick. After a moment's deliberation, she decided to pick left. She'd once been told by an old miner that the best way to not get lost in a maze is to stick to one wall. Placing a mark on the wall with her knife, Abel followed the left path. The distinct lack of any exits was frustrating. She also just realized she hadn't run into any connecting rooms. Was that why there weren't a lot of exits? These were just tunnels?

Whatever the case may be, Abel soon found her path blocked. The path did continue on... but she'd have to crawl through a very narrow gap. While it didn't appear to be filled with skeletons, Abel's mind couldn't help but immediately got back to the last time she had to crawl in these tunnels. Tightness gripped at her chest, a nauseous feeling welling up in her gut. Let's not... Abel told herself, turning on her heel. She already had a headache from the attack before. The last thing she needed was to have an aneurism.

Making an additional mark on the splitting tunnels as she took the right path, Abel was very happy to discover that this one didn't lead to a dead end. In fact, it led to a heavy metal door. It took a bit of effort, as the old thing had rusted at the hinges, but she forced it open enough to see inside. A cavernous, pitch black room lay before her. Holding up the lighter, Abel tried to estimate the size of the room. All she could say for certain was that it was big enough she couldn't see any walls. The massive open space made the room freezing cold. Or was that just her fever? Either way, she readjusted her scarf.

Stepping into the room was like stepping into a void. If it hadn't been for the tiny flame lighting the ground before her, Abel would've felt completely disconnected from reality. There was nothing in the room, no pillars or supports, just a big empty space. Her steps seemed to echo in the void, making her wince whenever she scuffed the ground and sent rocks scattering, like the sound of breaking glass in the stillness. The room went on forever as Abel kept walking on. It was just getting to the point that she thought maybe she should turn back, when she spotted something faintly in the distance. Drawing cautiously nearer, Abel heaved a sigh of relief upon discovering it was another door. And this time she didn't have to force it open, with just enough room to squeeze through.

The path beyond led down until it came to another fork. Abel paused then, staring blankly at the wall. There, on the right wall, were her markings. Abel frowned. Had she... gone back the way she came? Not believing her own eyes, Abel followed the path to the right, only to come to the same narrow crawlspace. Abel's brow creased. Had she gotten turned around in the big room? She'd thought she'd been going straight, but admittedly it could be hard to tell when there were no visual cues. Huffing, Abel returned to the metal door. This time, Abel placed some markings on the doorframe so she'd know if she got turned around again. With far less hesitance than before, Abel attempted to cross the room again.

This time, she seemed to walk much longer than before, which made her hopeful she was going in the right direction. A sound off to her side made her stop, though. Twisting her torso without moving her feet from their path, Abel peered into the darkness, straining her ears. She didn't know what it was she heard. But in such deep silence, even the faintest breath might've well have been a shout. Abel tilted the lighter at all angles, checking around her as best she could, but saw or heard nothing more. She winced as the back of her head gave a throb, reminding her she needed medical treatment herself. Rolling the grip of her knife in her hand to relieve the sudden itch, Abel brushed aside the strange sound. Huffing, her breath fogging the cold air before her, Abel pressed on.

A bit more walking later, Abel finally found herself coming to the end of the room. Any triumph quickly evaporated, though, when she saw the marks on the doorframe. Scowling, Abel glared at the markings that seemed to defy all reasoning. How could she get turned around in a complete circle twice? She wasn't Zoro.

Abel's scowl swiftly went slack when she quite suddenly and powerfully had the impression of being watched. The heavy, unmistakable weight of eyes scorched into the back of her head, and behind her, she thought she heard shuffling. Abel's blood ran cold, and not in the normal fear-response way, but in a familiar way that made dread well up within her. She might've gotten used to Kitetsu's presence, but that didn't blind her to similar feelings. The shuffling continued behind her, growing closer. It was faint, and had it not been so quiet she'd have never noticed. But she did.

Something in her told Abel not to look. Her instincts were blaring at this wasn't a cultist or villager, or any normal enemy. One of the first rules when dealing with something truly supernatural was not never give it attention. Giving it attention made it stronger. Therefore, Abel schooled her expression as best she could and fought against the urge to look behind her. Something told her there was nothing to see. Instead, she calmly walked through the door, and without turning around, pulled it closed behind her. Only when she could pull it shut no further did she turn to check that it was completely closed. Abel stared at the door, wondering about the strange room with no exit and what resided within for a moment longer before banishing the thought from her mind.

Now, she had no choice. She'd have to take the gap.

Abel pursed her lips as she eyed the gap. She really, really didn't want to climb in there. But the never-ending room with its watcher wasn't an option either. She could always retrace her steps, but again, she hadn't found anything. Going forward or going back, she needed to find an exit. Irritation slightly edged out the anxiety she felt about squeezing into such a small space again. That feeling in itself Abel found troubling, as she'd never had a problem with small spaces before. But she'd never gotten trapped in one, she reminded herself. The idea she might get stuck again, with no one to save her this time made her ill, and not Haverhill Fever ill.

C'mon, Abel, the hunter told herself, swinging her arms to try to shake off the anxiety. You know this is how phobias start. Anxiety about having anxiety... that's the definition of a panic disorder. It was a vicious cycle of fear and avoidance. But knowing that didn't stop her body from reacting. The tightness in her chest was already starting, and just like entities, acknowledging that was making it worse. Then maybe she could distract herself?

It sounded insane, but Abel was never one to shy away from unconventional methods if they worked. So, as she began to worm her way into the gap, Abel began naming all the bones of the human body, starting from the top and working her way down. Frontal bone... nasal bone... nasal septum... lacrimal... maxilla... mandible... Abel rattled off the bones as she crawled slowly and painstakingly through the gap, holding the lighter out with one hand to see where she was going. She also wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time, taking her pack off and pushing it ahead of her. On the one hand it was tougher going than before, because the gap was so narrow, she pretty much had to wiggle on her belly, feeling like a worm. But on the other it was easier because she wasn't being chased by rats and there were no bones to get stuck on. Abel tried to keep her breathing nice and relaxed, fighting against her body's signals to go into fight-or-flight mode at the feeling of the floor pressing into her chest and the ceiling right on her back. Her heart rate felt elevated, but Abel could get some disconnect by rationalizing the physiological response, removing some of the emotion from it. The fever also paradoxically helped because she felt constantly cold, so she shouldn't get hot and frustrated.

As she continued to slowly edge her way through, Abel continued naming off bones. Parietal... temporal... s-sphenoid... zygomatic... occipital... Next is spine... that's a good one. You've got the cervical vertebrae, that's C1 through C7. Then you've got the thoracic vertebrae, that's one through... twelve. Then the lumbar, L1 through L5. Then the sacrum. Sacral vertebrae one through five, down to the coccyx. Yeah, this whole thing is a pain in the coccyx.

Abel continued to list off bones, bringing up old anatomy charts she'd studied, all the while slowly working her way through, focusing solely on her lists and breathing. It was not lost on her the insanity of naming bones while trapped in a catacomb. But misery was the root of all humor, and if she could find some humor in the situation then she must be doing okay.

It wasn't until Abel was naming the parts of the rib cage that she finally reached the end. Her heart skipped a beat (in a good way) when she both felt and heard her pack fall from her pushing to the ground. Eager to reach the edge of the gap, Abel wiggling forward as fast as she could. Her free hand felt the edge, cool, fresh air kissing her skin. Getting a good grip, Abel pulled herself the rest of the way out. She breathed deeply at the fresh(er) air as she came out the other side, rolling ungracefully to the ground. Finally! she thought, taking a moment to lean her head back against the wall. Though she instantly regretted it when it sent a fresh wave of pain through her. Right, cracked skull. Even Abel snorted at her attitude, just brushing aside such an injury. Up we get.

Brushing herself off, Abel returned her pack, feeling rather accomplished with herself. Now if she could just get out and back to the ship, she'd be dandy. She wanted to sleep until they left this god-forsaken place.

The passage she found herself in was narrow, barely a person wide, with a crack in the floor where a little stream of water ran. This forced Abel to walk slightly spraddled. Ahead, the passage opened into a room. Understandably hesitant, given what happened last time, Abel approached with caution. There was no door this time, and it didn't feel as large. Hesitantly moving deeper into the room, Abel caught sight of something sitting in the middle. A big rock?

As she drew nearer, Abel found she was partially right. It was a big rock, two in fact, but they were furniture. One was a chair, or perhaps throne was a more appropriate term. It had a high back, sweeping down to a seat with high arms on the sides. Before the throne was a flat rock fashioned as a large table. Based on the rough nature of both pieces, Abel reasoned they were more likely naturally formed rather than crafted. More importantly, several unlit candles sat on the table, melted and dried wax covering some of the sides. While Abel wasn't thrilled to find evidence of the cult's activity (because who else would have a throne and candles down here?), she chose to look on the positive side. If this place was frequently used, that meant there had to be an exit around here.

Abel was about to reach for a candle as an extra light source, when she heard footsteps approaching. Whirling in the direction of the sound, Abel thought she saw another tunnel. Wishing to avoid a confrontation, Abel closed her lighter, dousing the room in darkness. Crouching, she shuffled away from the table, until she reached the far edge of the room. She didn't see any light sources nearing, so hopefully she could avoid being seen by whoever it was.

Crouched in the darkness, Abel listened attentively to the steps draw nearer. They were heavy, possibly a man. She heard when they entered the room, because their steps took on more reverb, as they would in a larger, open space. But then they stopped. Back against the wall, poised on the balls of her feet, Abel strained to see or hear the person, looking in the general direction they sounded. In the pitch black, she couldn't see anything, and wondered how they could. Maybe another cave dweller? Though their gait had sounded regular, even sounding like they wore shoes. Ahead of her, Abel's breath puffed visibly. Not wanting to give herself away, Abel considered holding her breath before reconsidering. Instead, she pulled her scarf up, blocking her breath.

Waiting tensely, the steps eventually began again, heading away from Abel. Possibly going toward the tunnel she'd come from. That meant they wouldn't be gone long, as the path dead-ended. Unless they meant to crawl through the gap, which Abel doubted. If she were being smart, Abel would wait until the person eventually came back then follow them out. But the desire to get out of this place as soon as possible was hard to resist. So, when the person got a little further away, Abel decided to risk it.

Still crouched, Abel made for the other tunnel, her footfall as light as possible. Keeping a hand out against the wall, she followed it around until she felt the bend where the second tunnel started. She was just about to stand when she froze. The footsteps were coming back. Running back. The thudding rapidly came closer as the person sprinted back... and right up to her hiding spot. Abel barely held back a noise as the running stopped. Right. In. Front. Of. Her. Abel's body went rigid, freezing in place. Her eyes widened, despite not being able to see a thing. She held her breath. By all accounts, they should be close enough for her to touch them. Close enough to share body heat. Yet all she felt was the cold air of the cavern.

Long minutes stretched by, with not another sound from either. Abel knew the person hadn't gone away. Why weren't they doing anything? They were right there. She could feel it. What, were they just standing there, staring at her? Every hair on Abel's body stood on end as a shiver ran down her spine at the thought. She didn't like people just standing, staring at her. Especially when she couldn't see them.

Nerves and irritation weighed on Abel in equal measure, the weight of the lighter in her hand feeling increasingly tempting with each second that ticked by. Did she risk it? Did she want to see? Eventually, self-preservation won out. If it was going to come down to a fight, she could at least see what it was. Other hand clenching her knife close to her chest, poised to strike the moment she could see, Abel brought the lighter up to face-level, flicked it on, and looked up.

To Be Continued...