Goldsfield was an old-fashioned mud hole. Winston had forgotten not to wear his new shoes and was now fretting over all the mud they were gathering. He stepped gingerly over the dirt lane, approaching the group of old houses. The whole place reeked of manure. There was farming equipment scattered all over, impotent little chicks scuttling about in the mud. Pigs grumbled in the dark of some barn. He'd heard that most edible meats came from firebreathing animals, but the heat stomach had long been bred out of domesticated variants.

He saw an old man sitting on a musty chair, leaning against the shadowed side of a dilapidated barn. The man sat and stared blankly. When Winston asked him where Haston lived, the man just peered his bulging eyes over him. After a while, he said "Haston's me. All we's Hastons."

Winston suddenly couldn't wait to be back in his clean hotel room where nothing stank. But he was not to be deterred in the face of prospect. "I'm looking for a Greg Haston," he said, not expecting any useful answers.

"Why," the man said and turned his head back to the copse of trees he'd been glaring at. "Why, that's my son."

Winston was starting to get impatient. "What? That tree's your son, old codger?"

The old man craned his long neck back at him. If he was affronted, he didn't show it. His face didn't show a shred of anything, Winston thought. "Greg is my little boy. He just up in that house, Mag making lunch."

Winston knocked on a door that threatened to collapse from it. A tall man in a sweated through shirt barged it aside, wiping dirty hands on his jeans. "Ah, figure you mus' be the kid."

"I'm here for the animal," Winston said.

The man nodded. "Scamp's in the shed with the other Horns."

He stepped outside and lead him over a dirt path to a little shed nearby.

"That Horn's about the mos' ornery we ever had. It mark its damn territory from us and I have to beat it with a hammer ever' two weeks like. Stock like that is dangerous. It could rile up the other Horns to make a run, or hell, attack us. Damn Scamp," he had a hammer in his hand. It was dented and damaged, looking sharp from the cracks.

"I'll give you 300 mark for it, if it's as hard as you say," said Winston. He'd been looking for a mon to fill the gap in his lineup. The underground league had been having a rough season and he was quite desperate, evidently.

The man leading him laughed. "That's city folk for you. I'd pay you 2 mark just to be rid of it. Been planning on taking in to the copse and just bashing its head in for the longest time. Frankly told, I been a little scared of Scamp myself."

Scamp was causing a scene when they found it. In the outdoor pen of the shed, the little four-legged Horn was stomping the ground and stirring up a cloud of dust. Another, significantly smaller horn laid beside it, stone shell split down the back, lucid gel seeping from the gash.

"God damn it, you big sonofabitch!" The farmer hollered, racing for the enclosure. The other Horns were pressed up against the other end of the pen, keeping as far away from Scamp as possible. They scattered as soon as the angry farmer burst in, but Scamp held its ground. It growled at the farmer even as he approached it, hammer high in the air. He swooped it down hard, cracking it square on the back. Scamp collapsed in pain. The farmer lifted the hammer again and brought it down three more times. Scamp rasped in agony, then charged at the farmer, its large, sharp horn cutting air. The farmer recoiled in fright and cursed.

"Take it!" He yelled at Winston. "Take it and never come back!"

Winston threw some money on the ground and slowly approached Scamp. He kneeled down next to it and lifted its head by the chin. It hissed at him madly, but couldn't attack through the pain. Its stone shell was dented all over. Alec pressed a ball of rock dough in its mouth and patted its head. "You belong to me now, bud. Your ploughing days are done," He tied a noose around the creature's neck and dragged it out of the pen. It could barely walk and the haul exhausted Winston after some time. Scamp's body dug a wide rut in the earth and he began thinking it might have died. He was just about to leave the damn thing behind anyway when it began trailing after him. As soon as he found a payphone, he called the Varinoff Company Ranch and ordered a truck to come pick him up, along with the new acquisition.

Inside the loading bed of the truck, Winston saw the creature's back was beginning to arch, a sure sign of growth. It would make a fine fighter soon.

For the first time in a while, Winston Allstar began to feel optimistic.

Almost twenty years later, Scamp was slowly killing Alec 40 kilometers from Garden. Its body had grown exponentially and it was a monster now. Alec had thought the rage would subside as it matured, but it had amplified instead, flowered even stronger than its bulk. It rammed him slowly, with sure strength onto a splintered branch of the tree he was backed up against. The wood pierced his skin, threatening to puncture his back. Hyperion would be the death of him finally, as he had somehow always been sure it would be.

Gunfire.

Bullets popped into the titan's back. Hyperion dropped him, twitching in annoyance. Alec was surprised to find himself plunging a considerable distance to the ground. He met it hard. The monstrosity faced the lights surrounding it. Alec didn't know what to fear more at that moment. Its arms resembled pile drivers, swelling down from pointed shoulders that protruded above its own head. It lifted one flat foot and drove the weight of its entire mountainous body on one beefy, stumpy leg. The land itself rocked in the wake, a tremor that flipped Alec's stomach upside down. Men in dark camo stood among the vehicles, still as statues. Trying not to appear unnerved, most likely.

Hyperion grumbled. A deep, guttural gnarr. The implications were clear. All the men facing it aimed their weapons. Hyperion relaxed. Its scapulas dropped and it took in a deep, howling breath. In the next split-second, there was a dust cloud around it. The explosion of sound followed after. Three men leapt and rolled from its path. Gunfire flashed from all around. Alec had seen the destruction of the Death squad and Hyperion both and it terrified him to see the result of a confrontation between the two forces.

Hyperion stopped dead in its tracks, it's flat hammer fist raised atop a truck cabin. Alec could just barely hear two men, wearing uniforms that resembled priests' cowls chanting "Seize." Hyperion grunted in anger and stomped the ground, paralyzed in place. Atop the truck, Alec spotted a Ralts. A tiny, mysterious creature frequently used by the Squad for reasons Alec was unaware of. He'd never seen one before, but recognized it immediately. It looked like some hideous fairy from Mars.

The air shimmered around it. It was a rare Psychic type, a pedigree of elusive creatures who could manipulate minds, and sometimes the properties of objects from afar by subtly manipulating waves of radiation around them through microscopic nodes in their bodies, which secreted a psionic vibration. The air shimmered in a cloud around the truck. In an instant, there was a crowd of them on all the vehicles surrounding Hyperion. Whatever they were doing was having an effect. It trembled in rage and convulsed, salivating from its jaws. The fairies held the beast in a magical stranglehold.

Then behind it, two matured "Ralts" appeared, of the Gallade genome. The man-sized Gallade simply whooshed into being where before there had been nothing. Robotically in tandem, the pair drew back their arms and delivered a medically precise punch under each of its shoulder plates. After their arms connected to the monster's back, then turned like a key in ignition. A shockwave spread from Hyperion's back, driving it flat on the terrain. The Ralts stumbled as one as their captive moved, straining at invisible cords that bound them. Then, from everywhere at once, men in black sprung from the darkness, carrying assault weapons. As the Gallade stepped back, dozens of nautralizer darts appeared in Hyperion's back, not a single one missing its mark. Hyperion convulsed in rage and consternation, struggling against its unseen prison.

Alec picked himself off the ground in disbelief, pain firing off in every joint. He waddled in the direction of Hyperion as it ceased to move when one black-gloved hand held him back. It was a man in uniform, decorated with the fashionable Violet Vest. Squad men neared the seemingly inanimate body of Hyperion to secure its carcass. In the next second they all would have been dead, had Alec not shouted, seeing its telltale twitch of spinal blade. Muscles in its entire body tensed, breaking the puny needles in its back. The next moment, its weighted tail was sweeping the floor. The Gallade were too close. In their final conscious moments, they released protective vibrations to shield them, when Hyperion's tail club cracked them straight. The air exploded in psionic power and the two mons went flying. Alec once again found himself terrified of not just the titan's brute strength, but its sheer, intelligent resolve.

The poor fairies fought to keep control of the evil troll, but its power overwhelmed them. It lifted both arms in the air and roared. It swung one arm – the legion of Ralts sprawled from the trucks. It swung the other arm – and the truck roofs were swept clean. Hyperion gurgled that sweet, terrible laugh. Its bloodlust was rising. How good it must feel to be free to rampage once more!

Then the foreboding electrical sounds of weapons zapping to power. At once, the night lit up in a crimson flare, air shimmering in heat. Alec felt the wave warm his flesh as Hyperion went up in flame. The squad must have been desperate; they were bringing out the big guns one single errant mon, not even PDA.

Hyperion emerged from the ball of fire, a raging dragon. The flames followed after like a comet tail. It spotted the flame thrower and charged toward him. Even as the beam of fire spouted directly in its face, Hyperion never decelerated. Its hand grasped the Squad man who began to shriek. The battle would have been over right there and then, had the Squad been a moment late in preparing the second of its secret weapons. Alec saw the gleaming metal turret through a truck's open backdoor just as it fired, the recoil rattling its titanium hinges. Hyperion staggered, crushing the flamethrower charge in its fist, a gout of flame lighting the sky. The man who had wielded it tumbled from its grasp and crawled away. There was a metallic payload shell stuck in Hyperion's chest. Enough tranquilizer to beach a whale.

It took two steps, flexing its lugubrious muscles, then collapsed two seconds later, rasping like a bellows. After that, all was still until Hyperion's breathing settled. The men in black creeped over, looking more than a little afraid for their lives. An exhaustive procedure of checking its vitals followed. After the men had finally confirmed the creature was indeed knocked out cold, they tied ropes to its limbs, then lashed the chains to three separate trucks to haul it away.

Just like that, the battle was ended. Alec had left any illusion of using Hyperion to scatter the Graveler rank as soon as he saw its own upturned truck. He felt empty now. The whole job had been one major failure after another. He lost Golem, almost got himself killed, lied to the villagers in a move that would now definitely destroy any chance at a future career. Now time was up, the Death Squad was here to decimate. Somehow, he managed to get through it all with his life, but that was little consolation.

The squad member holding Alec back spoke up. "I had a feeling earlier today, just as I was finishing my black tea in the helicopter…" That voice! It jolted Alec immediately. He might have been too soon in assuming he would be leaving this place alive after all. How blissful that had been.

"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you here." She spat out the word you as if it was disgusting.

"Oh shit," Alec blurted.

Theresa lifted the helmet gracefully from her head and her brilliant blond hair fanned from inside. Her gaze was glacial, hatred concealed underneath ice.

"You've fucked yourself this time, Winston." She said simply. Alec cringed at his own name. "You lost control of your little animal and almost cost me the lives of men. You will be punished for your sins."

Alec felt indignation rising in his gut and suppressed it. He was aware of the ways in which the Squad worked. It was better to say nothing now.

"I am charging you with the following infractions," she continued. "Allowing a dangerous mon to roam without proper restriction or sedation. Losing control of a dangerous mon within range of living persons. Letting a dangerous mon, through incompetence or otherwise, assault human beings. Those are three I am obligated to list at the moment of arrest. The rest will be brought up at the Union marshal."

The fact that his first-degree Regulator's license should have overridden all three was meaningless now. He had no ground to counter Theresa's opposing authority.

"Not going to say to say anything, Winston? What happened to that cocksure bastard I once knew?" She grinned, revealing the gap in her otherwise perfect teeth, a serpentine blade of tongue peering from inside.

"Reality hit him hard."

"Isn't that just too bad."

"I thought so at the time, but seeing your shiteating grin now makes me glad."

Theresa the reputed queen of ice burst out laughing. "Oh, you will be eating so much shit when all this is done." She whirled and walked off, barking orders to seize him through her glottal giggles, steel boots leaving imprints in the earth.

"Oh," she turned back as if she forgot to mention something.

Suddenly, her solid, gloved fist bored itself deep in his gut. The impact of it sent him sprawling in the dirt. Next, her steel heel was pressed against his chest, digging into the lesions that were already there from his encounter with the Graveler. She didn't pay mind to his squirming.

"Cuff him good. This one will try to fox himself right out," And the Death Squad leader made herself gone.

Alec whimpered in self-pity as his vision blurred and he struggled to keep hold of consciousness. He felt his arms clasped in something cold. Then he was lifted off his feet.

With his last strength, he managed to point at the unconscious Larry and Jane. "They need help, take them."

"Escort these people to the helicopter and take them to the nearest hospital," said the Violet Vested second-in-command.

Alec felt himself loaded into a vehicle. He closed his eyes and was gone from the world.

He woke up on the cold steel floor of a moving van. It was difficult to tell just how much time had passed. He struggled to prop himself on his arms, examining his surroundings. There were bars installed in the vehicle and he was on the wrong side of them. His body hurt, but it wasn't near the damage his pride had taken. Images of Theresa grounding him with her steel soles flickered in his mind.

"Ah, shit." The Garden gig had seemed so simple in the beginning. Just a pack of PDA, stirring up some dust. He thought himself an idiot now, but what should he have done? Nobody could have expected how big this thing was.

There was a little window on side of the enclosed space. Alec found himself completely lost in time and peered through it. The morning was just starting to brighten, but there was still more grey than blue in the sky. Greyer still was the river Avard as it rushed away beside them. There was the sound of at least one more moving vehicle. The little window was glass reinforced with steel bars and he had to strain his head to look, but there was definitely a large truck trundling behind. The rumble of its motor was tremendous. In comparison, the little prison van Alec inhabited was cramped and tiny.

Alec had an idea as to just what might be happening. A Ranger in Orange sat buckled beyond the bars. Beyond her, one driver in black. Squad. Meaning the Ranger was a local sent to assist the Squad as they dropped in, likely at a landing base near Balder. The Squad wasn't known for being deferential to their subordinates. They sent the Ranger back with the prisoner, so they wouldn't lose a man for the job ahead.

He slid down to the floor, defeated. Outwitted, outrun, thrashed up and locked away. Golem was dead. The Squad were likely firing up their weapons as he sat there slumped. The town was about to become a Garden of ash. That glacial vixen was finally getting her way with him. That idiotic little sneer of hers, like a twisting snake.

He punched the wall, imagining her face. Ouch. That hurt. Alec hissed, clutching his poor, smarting hand. He saw her again, Theresa, that witch. A haunting apparition, laughing at Winston the hapless bastard who could never find a way to make himself useful to anyone.

He stood up with a fire in his gut, resolving to try for one last time. If there was even a small chance of seeing that hideous smirk break in half, it was worth trying anything. If he was going to try anything now, he needed to know a few things first. Not expecting much, he decided to fish some information from the Ranger.

"From Balder?" he hedged.

She glanced at him nonchalantly and kept to herself. She was little more than a teenager. A novice then.

"I know they told you not to, but as a Ranger of your local Outpost you have the right to question me."

She sighed, swiping at a red streak of hair. "Nobody wants to be questioned. You're the one with the questions, obviously." She snatched a tangle of headphone cord from her pocket and began to unravel it.

"These assholes woke you up in the middle of the night. Those pagers are a pain the ass, aren't they?"

She paused with the headphones hovering by her ears. "You know about those, huh?"

"It's always the rookies who get dragged out to the middle of nowhere at three in the morning."

She laughed. "It's a bad gig, but rangering's about the only thing there is to do in Balder, apart from service. High school diploma notwithstanding." She spat on the floor of the truck. Alec was beginning like her. She put down her headphones then, a sparkle in her eye. "Hey, that big fucking rock dragon back there. It's yours, ain't it?"

Finally, Alec found what he was looking for. "That old behemoth? I've-"

The truck crashed. The steel walls of the metal can exterior scrunched like tinfoil, glass windows shattering in their spaces. Alec suddenly found himself biting down on a metal bar. The Ranger was thrown in her seat, the belt holding her in place. Her head whipped round, buffeting the wall, knocking her out cold.

Alec gripped the bars hard as he felt the truck careen into the rock wall beside. The unstrapped Squad driver was thrown to the ceiling as it did. Serves him right, the bastard. The truck rocked on its chassis violently, almost knocking Alec's feet from under him. There were shards of glass there. Not a good idea to fall, then. With a lurch, the van settled. Alec removed his mouth from the iron bar, tasting salty blood. He licked his teeth and found them all accounted for. He was just about to release his grip, when the light went out from the shattered window. He saw the big truck looming through. It was getting closer. Keeling over. Falling on top.

He clutched the bars tight and yelled. "Fuuuuuuuu-"

An abominable squealing of metal on metal, the roof extruding inward. Finally, all was still. What the fuck was happening? Only one possible answer came to mind, but questions could wait. He checked the window again, found it was all but shattered, the little bars bent out of shape. Between them, on the other side was the dark window of the larger truck.

He examined the rest of his van again. His two holders were both unconscious. There was nobody who could prevent him from attempting what he was about to. That big fucking rock dragon back there, was what she said and gave it all away. Inside that large truck was Hyperion. Chained and sedated, on its way to the final needle, most likely.

Alec picked off the bits of broken glass from the edges of the window, then grabbed the bars. He rattled his cuffs and clicked his tongue repeatedly. The truck lay still, toppled at an angle on the poor little prison van.

Alec drew in a breath. "Get out here, Scamp!" He boomed, stomach clenched. No sense being coy about it.

The beast rumbled within. It may have been sedated, but Alec knew well Hyperion's digestion would already be passing the relaxant through its system. Especially if it was angry. Nothing arose the monster quite as well as madness.

"I said get out, you damn Scamp! I'll put the hammer on you if I don't see your Scamp face right now!"

The truck rumbled, sending vibrations through both vehicles. It might not have understood the words, but they got through to it. Alec remembered the farmer who had beat little Scamp on the back with a broken hammer, yelling obscenities and violently breaking its back in.

"Damn Scamp! You shitting little monster!"

It growled.

"Worthless Scamp! I'm taking you to the trees!"

The truck wall banged, denting outward.

"Bastard little Scamp! I'll kill you!"

Its eyes appeared in the window. Then the wall beneath it exploded out, the small rectangle of glass falling clean of its setting. This was the moment.

Alec closed his eyes and yelled. "Scaaaaaaaamp!"

There was a terrible clang and the van shuddered. Alec went sprawling on the floor, shards of glass biting his ass.

Opening his eyes, he saw a clean tear running down the height of the van wall where his window had been. Through the rip, he saw Hyperion tearing at the wall of its own cage, but it was reinforced with bars on the inside. Its sledgehammer arms cut holes in the truck. It was on the cusp of freeing itself. Alec knew he might have less than a minute. He squeezed himself through the opening Hyperion had made in the van, landing on the tarmac road, making eye contact with the monster. He leapt and rolled as the swing of its arm cut a cross into the feeble van. Alec ran around the vehicle for its door. He slid the prison van door open with his cuffed hands and stumbled in, throwing his arms on the unconscious Squad driver. He prodded his pockets and found a hard steel lump inside. He grabbed the keys and slid the first one into a cuff. It popped open.

"Hah!" Seemed lady luck might not be as averse to him as he'd thought. He placed the key into the second cuff.

"Hey!"

He turned around just in time to block a high kick from the Ranger who might have been less unconscious than he'd given her credit for. She stumbled back, leaving herself open. He whipped her with the open cuff and she caught it, yanking him close, simultaneously delivering a direct punch to his gut. He let her finish and smacked her with his shoulder. There was a split-second in which they exchanged one glance.

Comrades in suffering one moment, enemies the next. They went at each other when the van shook.

"Fuck," said Alec.

"What is it?" She asked.

His stomach flipped as the gravity in the truck keeled sideways, throwing them both against the wall. Through the open door, they saw the big fucking rock dragon lifting the van up. They both screamed and held each other like little girls.

Enemies one moment, comrades in suffering the next.

They slid against the van cage, seeing the tops of trees through the door opening. It was going to squash them against the ground. Alec grabbed the driver's keys and placed one that looked appropriate into the cage doors. Click. The prison door swung open and they fell through.

"Jump!" Yelled Alec, pointing to the torn-up wall inside. Without hesitation, they scrambled through the opening and plummeted to the ground.

"To the truck! Weapons!" She blurted. Hyperion whipped its head around, dropping the small van unceremoniously as it noticed their little caper. Alec was first to reach the truck, stretching out a hand to the ranger. Before she could grab it, Hyperion knocked her aside. She took a tumble through the grass on the side of the road and rolled to a stop.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit." Alec repeated his mantra as he climbed inside the truck cage through a hole Hyperion had made. The cage was battered and wrecked. Along with the cage, a door lay on the floor, torn from its reinforced hinges. There was only one thing a secondary room in an animal hauling trailer could be. He dove through, arriving in the supply closet. Through a slit of window, he could see the unconscious Squad truck driver in the cabin.

Injectors and needles covered the ransacked space. They crunched beneath his boots as he made his way to a closet in the corner. He knew Injectors were useless against the monster. But there was bound to be something else inside that little closet. Some secret weapon of the Squad that could maybe even the odds. Unlikely as that seemed, Alec held his breath and swung the closet door open.

He let the breath go. What could he have been expecting? It was an average tool shed, meaning they were all screwed. The floors of the van quaked as Hyperion howled outside. Alec was getting pissed. All day he'd been dealt nothing but bad hand after bad hand. It was clear destiny would not be giving him the break he needed. Fine, he thought.

"I'll just deal my own fucking hand," he said and grabbed a big hammer.

He hopped out the van, the hammer's weight stumbling him off-balance. It was shockingly heavy. That was good.

He caught Hyperion just as it scored its first kill after god knew how many years. Right then, Alec saw his own theory confirmed. What had caused their trucks to crash on the road was the PDA menace itself. A pack of Graveler ran away from the corpse of their dead buddy, toward another one of their beloved rock walls just as Hyperion's arm whistled through the air. The Gravelers' shells shattered on impact, carcasses darting into the wall they had built. The last of them had given up on its escape and simply watched as Hyperion lifted it from the road, then squashed it in one hand, blood splattering its ferocious face.

This was his chance. Alec approached Hyperion from behind, hefting that monster hammer in the air, veins stark against his skin. Dear lord, it was heavy. They were barely visible now, but Alec could recognize them still. The subtle scarring, the dents and healed-over cracks in Hyperion's rocky carapace. Reminders of the cruel farmer who had beating this poor Horn to the brink of death with his weapon of choice. Some wounds never close.

Alec brought the hammer above his head. As it crested, something inside the hammer switched. Suddenly, it was light. Light as air. Alec's mind boggled and the world seemed to sway. Then, with equal rapidity, the weight switched again. Now it was heavier than the Earth itself. Before he could utter an expletive, the hammer went hurtling down, bringing his arms along for the ride.

The force of the ensuing collision rattled bones out of their joints. His body twisted, his fingers came free of the handle. He felt like he'd been struck himself. A bloody crack appeared in the monster's back.

Hyperion keened in shock, lashing out with its arm. It was only a soft blow, but it swept Alec off the ground.

His vision blurred and he smacked against something. Alec forced his eyes open, groping for purchase behind. He caught the bark of the tree with one hand, the other flopped uselessly - the hammer impact had dislocated it. His vision rolled, but he fully understood the gravity of the situation. He placed the shoulder against the trunk and planted his feet in the ground. The joint clacked, a spasm of pain rippling through him. He blinked twice and found his vision clear. To see if it worked, he waved his previously dislocated arm back and forth. It hurt like a bitch but it was back.

Hyperion rasped and growled, stomping the earth. It was in abject consternation, eyes black pinpricks. Alec hobbled to where the hammer was lodged in the tarmac. He gripped the handle and pulled it out. He could barely hold the thing now, but he needed it desperately. He'd finally recognized it for what it was. It was a tool, but one not made for human hands. Rather, a hammer designed for heavy duty work performed by mons bred and trained for it. This was a nifty thing called a lead hammer. It looked much like a regular hammer, but there was a trick to it. Inside the head was a lead weight immersed in a pocket of fluid which shifted with the center of gravity.

"Scamp!" He clicked his tongue, swinging the new toy through air.

Hyperion snuffled in fear, drawing back from the hammer. The little crack in its back wouldn't be nearly enough to bring Hyperion to submission. If the monster wished, it would pummel Alec to the floor and laugh, toy or no toy. But it wasn't doing that. It was scared. The sight of the hammer had brought it to terror.

"Scamp, stay!" Alec clicked his tongue. Strength was immaterial now. This was a contest of wills. Of the tamer and the tamed.

Hyperion rose, stomping the ground madly. Fear was not in its nature, anger and destruction was. He could see the two aspects battling as it determined what to do. But everybody and everything fears something.

The monster broke free from its paralysis and charged. Alec raised the hammer and screamed. At the last moment, Hyperion ground to a halt. Alec remained stoic, unblinking, but his heart was hammering in his chest. Hyperion roared rabidly in his face, flecks of saliva splattering his skin.

"Scamp, stay!" He shrieked, swinging the hammer. Hyperion backed down, dropping on all fours at the sight of the weapon. Its head drooped to the floor in submission. Alec had bested it. He held the weapon aloft, temped to bring the thing down anyway. Right on that sharp, jutting horn. That might actually deal it some damage. Then he heard it whimpering. Whimpering like a little pup, eyes trembling. He saw the little plough creature from the farm who would not give in. Some scars do indeed never heal and Scamp had never forgotten the hammer.

"Stay," he said, clicking his tongue. He turned his back to the creature, affirming his dominance.

"You alright?" He kneeled down next to the young Ranger.

She groaned in pain. "I… I don't know. What's going on?"

"You have your phone on you?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed. She must have already checked.

"Pager?"

"Left it… home."

Dammit, why did she have to be a greenhorn?

"Alright. Take this," he pressed his own phone in her hand. "Can you call the Outpost and tell them what happened?"

"Ughh… think so."

He patted her on the shoulder and stood. He wished he could tell her things get better. Next, he examined the prison van in which he'd been held captive. The driver was sprawled out between the two front seats, still as a corpse. Blood ran down his forehead.

Alec felt a pang of guilt. He didn't cause the crash himself, but it was Hyperion who had done the injuring to two of people that lay at the accident site. Nothing to be done out that now. It was pivotal he prepared himself as best he could, given what he was about to do. He stripped off the squad driver's suit and found what he was looking for. He unstrapped the protection vest, stripped off his shirt and put the vest on, fiddling with the adjustment straps until it more or less fit. He puckered his nose at the smell of the driver's perfume, then draped Clara's flannel shirt over.

Next, he returned to the weapons closet in the other truck and looted through the unholy mess. He picked up a Rifle Injector, capable of firing needles consecutively from a medium distance. Not as powerful as the close-range pistol-type Injector in his holster, but overall a much more usable weapon. He looped the strap around his neck and filled the chamber grip to the max with the needles strewn on the floor.

The armor was already chafing at his pits, sweat building underneath. He pointed the rifle through the shredded housing of the truck and fired. The rifle cracked, whipped. The recoil wasn't bad, but it stung his recently dislocated arm. Exiting the truck, found the needle lodged in a tree more or less where he'd fired it.

He figured he was prepared as he would ever be.

Hyperion was still as a sentinel, head bent down. On one side of them was the river Avard. Ahead, a large mass of rock and gravel blocking the way. It could only have been built by the Graveler Hyperion had just killed. Which meant they had come from the nest to barricade their position. Leading from the forest to the wall was a storm of tracks so flagrant only those blundering beasts could have left them.

Wielding the Hammer, Alec approached Hyperion. He clicked his tongue thrice. "Follow."

He went into the forest. The darkness of the wood enclosed him when he heard those heavy footsteps trail after. Soon, Hyperion got the gist and followed the tracks at a pace Alec could hardly match in his state.

He clicked his tongue again. "Mount," making the creature grudgingly lower its back. After all those years, it had still remembered the training he had given it, and the commands that came with it. Alec felt he should have been surprised, but he knew Hyperion was intelligent. It would resent and condemn, but it wouldn't forget. He placed one foot on its spinal blade, grabbing another above, mounting Hyperion like a garbage man at the back of the dump truck. His hand slapped its back. "Go!" he yelled and Hyperion obeyed.

Hooking the hammer through his belt, he put it to rest. The assault weapon click-clacked against his armored chest.

They sped through the forest together, on their way to the final confrontation. Alec knew he'd been blessed with another chance. Somehow, he'd managed to turn the tables in his favor. Unbelievably, he'd managed to bend Hyperion to his will again. He was Winston fucking Allstar, for once doing the right thing.

At that moment, the Death Squad must have been clashing with the villagers who would undoubtedly fight to protect their homes. They might feel the earth trembling with Hyperion's steps as they passed them by.

At the end of that road was the quarry. Waiting for their arrival, hundreds of Graveler beneath the sickening allure of that dark abyss.

Ready or not, the final confrontation was here.