Brium moved like a wraith through the forest; the slight sounds of his pursuers coming from several hundred feet behind him. Judging by the noises they made, Brium estimated there were at least thirty beings behind him. He was happy that his original estimate had been really close. Being right was quite satisfactory.

He was nearly positive that every Eraser Jeb had brought with him were following him right now; he doubted any were left with the vehicles.

Knowing Brium, Jeb would probably want his entire force with him.

Brium felt the metal of the curved machete pressed between his back and his folded left wing; it added a solid presence, and Brium was positive it wouldn't be left there much longer.

If he wanted answers he would have to take them.

Fine by him.

He spotted the area that was the be the location of what was to come and soon he arrived.

Brium placed himself several feet from the buried shotgun, and spun on his heel to face the coming storm.

There Jeb was, a hundred and fifty feet and closing. And he was surrounded by Erasers. The most Brium had ever seen in one place.

They had transformed during the walk, it seemed; Brium doubted very much that they would have driven here in wolf form.

With a sweep of his head, Brium counted twenty-nine of them.

Including Ari.

And that was beyond belief, beyond all comprehension; Brium had crippled the kid just the night before.

What the hell?

And Ari didn't appear to be wounded at all.

Oh well. Brium would just have to do it again.

The Erasers spread out, and Brium decided not to give Ari's impossible attendance any more thought for now. The freak was just another enemy to be dealt with. Brium then noted that only Ari had wings; the rest didn't. They were older models, the whole lot. But they were probably fast like the ones from the previous night.

"Hello, Jeb," Brium said with a tone that almost was like one a person would use when greeting an old friend. "Drive treat you well?"

But Jeb wasn't playing along. The man looked almost distressed. The huge group moved to within thirty feet of Brium and halted.

"Please stop playing, Brium. I need you to come with me. Now."

"Well, that's what I'd like to talk about, too. As you have given me no compelling reasons pertaining to returning with you, I just don't think I will."

"Please, Brium," Jeb was pleading now.

Pleading.

This was getting weird.

But Jeb had always been a good actor.

"Sorry. Can't do that. Anything else? You can leave now." Brium knew Jeb wouldn't leave. And Brium did not want him to. He had so many questions that had to be asked in the next few minutes.

"We can't leave. Not without you."

Two Erasers were moving toward him now. They were the ones that were probably assigned to handcuff him and take him in.

"Please come quietly, Brium," Jeb said softly, "I really don't want to see you hurt."

"Didn't bother you so much back in School," Brium responded.

The two Erasers were just a few feet from him now. The set themselves up on either side of him; Brium could tell it took every ounce of their willpower to not jump him right there.

"And that's just one compelling reason to not go back."

"Please Brium," Jeb said softly. "Please…"

But Brium had never, not once had any intention of going back.

He was free.

He would never give that up.

Ever.

And that freedom would have to be defended once again.

With one quick move, Brium reached with his right arm under his sweatshirt and wing, grasped the machete and pulled it free.

He had already calculated where the Erasers stood, as the blade came free of its concealment, so what followed was quite easy.

Brium raised the blade and swung his whole body in a quick, tight circle.

The machete cleaved through about five inches of the first Eraser's neck, and blood spurted from the wound; the artery had most certainly been severed.

The second Eraser, well, the blade passed through its neck completely, and as Brium finished his spin and faced Jeb once more, the Eraser's head rolled off of its shoulders.

Both Erasers crumpled to the ground; one dead, the other almost there, gurgling harmlessly on the ground.

Brium smiled as the other twenty-seven Erasers took up fighting stances.

Jeb looked defeated.

"Then I'm sorry, Brium," he said. "For what must happen."

"I'm not," Brium gave a grim smile. "And yes. That is my final answer."

A dozen Erasers all in unison lunched themselves at him.

It was the first squad, sent out as a first wave to bring him down. The rest wouldn't attack if they didn't need to help prevent friendly fire, so to speak.

It was as Brium suspected, and it would be perfect.

Brium picked the frontrunner and launched the blade which spun in arcs and refracted the beautiful golden light.

It moved so fast the targeted Eraser had no time to summon a defense.

The blade buried seven inches of steel into the Eraser's forehead; it would be slightly difficult the pull free, which Brium might have to do soon.

Darn.

Brium danced quickly to his right as the Eraser fell, dead instantly. He found the small pothole, dug his toe in it and without a second thought, kicked upward.

The shotgun was launched with an explosion of leaves, pine needles and dirt, right into Brium's outstretched hands.

There was already one in the chamber; Brium aimed and fired.

Another Eraser went down.

They were within twenty feet now.

He racked the shotgun, and the spent shell flew from it. He noted with satisfaction that all of the Erasers seemed surprised that a shotgun had materialized from the ground and was now being used against them. But that was the plan, so it must have been working.

And they still charged; Brium knew that failure in their assigned task (bringing him down) would probably result in death at the hands of the School.

Either way, they were dead.

And Brium was just fine with that.

He fired again, and felt the recoil; another Eraser down.

Eighteen feet.

He fired so fast that three used shells were constantly in the air at any given time.

And in a little more than six seconds, all nine shells had been fired, and nine more Erasers were on the ground.

Brium had chosen buckshot for a reason; it tore its targets apart. And the closer they got, the more powerful it became, as the large BBs had less time to spread apart. The first two or three he had fired on, being almost thirty feet away, may still have been alive. And actually, knowing Erasers, it may have been more. But it was doubtful that any of the nine hit would be a threat regardless of whether they were alive or not.

Brium had fired the final shell, and the last two Erasers of squad one were within ten feet of him, still sprinting fast. Brium whipped the shotgun around and met the first with a solid hit to the head with the shotgun's stock. The Eraser went down, stunned.

The second tried to come in from a more side angle but Brium dodged it easily. He moved with incredible precision behind the Eraser, wrapping the shotgun around it's neck. He ripped the smoking gun sideways with a solid jerk, and the Eraser's neck snapped audibly.

Brium didn't even stop to think; he dropped the shotgun and the dead Eraser (he had anticipated this already) and leapt on the stunned Eraser he had hit about three seconds previously.

He roped his arms around the nearly unconscious beast's head, and broke its neck as well. Brium didn't even stop moving; he knew that at this point, the rest of the Erasers would all be bearing down on him.

Quickly moving to a spot of dirt four feet from where he was, Brium smoothly pulled the pistol from his pocket and passed it to his left hand.

He dragged the fingers of his right through the dirt, and came up with the buried second machete. The explosion of dirt and leaves wasn't as impressive as when the shotgun had done the same thing, Brium noted with mild humor.

He straightened up and pointed the pistol to where he knew the Erasers had to be coming.

He heard them.

And he was right.

The rest of them were less than fifteen feet away. Brium picked the closest, aimed for the head, and fired.

Things were about to get very, very intense.

The next Eraser was slashed through the neck as it came within range; a favored spot of Brium's.

The one after that got a swing in, trying to rip him with its claws. Brium blocked it with his right arm, pressed the pistol to the creature's upper chest and he fired.

He leapt backward, and it was at about this point, where all thought shut down, and instinct kicked in. It was what Brium had been trained to do almost from birth. This was almost all he had ever known before his escape.

And the irony was he used the very means and training that they had given him to stay free.

That tradition was continued.

He spun and slashed. He dodged Eraser attacks with no thought at all, taking off limbs or outright killing whenever the chance presented itself.

One after another, the Erasers fell.

Whenever he could, he would put a bullet in a vital organ, and maybe even a head now and again. The only thing that existed at this moment was killing them and staying alive.

That was it.

Nothing else.

And then, suddenly, there were none left.

Brium had the final Eraser on the ground, it's left arm severed below the elbow. It snarled at him. He raised the pistol and put a bullet above it's right eye.

The slide locked back; the pistol was empty.

Brium turned back to face Jeb, already thinking he would have to chase the man down. He was fine with that; there was no way Jeb could escape him. Not now.

Brium was breathing hard; he was injured in several dozen places; clothing and skin ripped away when an Eraser had gotten lucky with its claws. He wasn't concerned about most of the injuries; most were mere scratches. Only a handful were gashes, and only one, the one on his left shoulder, was gushing blood profusely. His wings seemed to be fine. They had been tagged a couple of times with minor to moderate hits, but they felt all right. They were what most concerned Brium.

All in all, he was in better shape than he thought he would be at this point.

Before Jeb came into sight, Brium knew that Ari had to be standing beside him. Ari hadn't been in the melee, and Brium didn't hear him anywhere else.

Once again, Brium was right, there was Jeb, with Ari on his left.

And a young girl on his right.

Brium had not heard her arrive, nor had he seen her at all before. And it was then that Brium knew this girl was not at all what she appeared.

Jeb was still standing calmly where he had been. He had seen Brium slaughter nearly thirty Erasers in less than five minutes. And he didn't seem concerned.

Sure, he had Ari to protect him, but Brium had beaten the kid so many times, it really didn't matter if Ari was around or not. It was nice to see that Jeb hadn't just sent his son into the fray; it was nice to know the man still had some semblance of love for his son.

It would have been very hard to take Ari out without killing him in a fight like that one.

No, with all evidence gathered, Jeb's confidence of safety seemed all placed in this single girl.

She was another creation of the school; she had to be. And that thought, which Brium already concluded was the truth, made him weary.

As did the sheathed samurai sword held loosely in her hands.

She was younger than Brium; maybe fifteen, sixteen max. She was wearing blue sweatpants that fit tightly to her, and a dull pink T-Shirt that did the same. White tennis shoes, fine shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, a silver bracelet on her left wrist and the matching earrings glinting in what was left of the sunlight; she looked like a regular teenage girl.

Jeb smiled. A smile of what Brium assumed was some sort of twisted pride. "My God, Brium…" Jeb shook his head in astonishment, "Not even I thought you could do something like that."

"You'll be repeating that in just a few minutes," Brium responded. "I'm not done yet."

Jeb shrugged, "Soon you'll understand what I'm trying to do." He turned to the girl. "Don't permanently damage him," he ordered, sighing.

The girl smiled. "Of course not," she replied sweetly in what would be considered a very cute voice. She drew her sword, letting the sheath fall to the ground.

Brium locked the bloody machete between his left arm and pressed it to his side to free up both hands. He quickly extracted the used magazine from the pistol, trading it in his pocket for a fresh one. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the girl. He hadn't even blinked. He couldn't let Jeb leave this, or else everything he had just done was for nothing.

Well, not completely nothing. He had taken out twenty-eight Erasers. That had to count for something.

He slid the magazine into the pistol.

She moved impossibly fast and the knife she threw at him moved so fast, he had almost no time to get his right arm out of the way.

He moved enough that the blade only skimmed him causing a relatively deep cut instead of impaling his right wrist dead on, but it achieved what Brium assumed was the desired effect.

Brium had dropped the pistol.

And the girl was now racing full speed toward him, sword at the ready.