"Buuuullseye~!"

A grand explosion shook the canyon, sending clouds of fowl into the air, cawing and flying for their lives. The little maniac cackled in sadistic glee and grabbed another grenade from her basket.

"Woop~!"

With a swift jerking motion, the pin left its place, sending the safety lever falling to the side. She took a run-up and threw the deathly contraption towards a pile of corpses. Glistening in the morning sun, spinning gracefully in the air, it landed right in the middle of the dead human hydra with a soft thud. A moment later, another boom shattered the last one's echo and sent body parts flying all over the ravine. Amidst the rain of blood, the fiend's feet moved along to a rhythm of pain and misery inaudible to anyone but her.

Andy stood by her side throughout the whole ordeal, thinking through his life decisions. He was already here, too late to back down. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're here. Can smell the holiness on you from a mile away."

"Oh yeah? And how does it smell?"

"Like shit. What do you want?"

She turned to the boy, her hair now red and sticky from the falling blood. If he wasn't intimidated by her "throwing practice" before, he definitely was now.

"Just wanted to say hello? Exchange names?"

"I don't do names. Names are a luxury, angel-boy."

"No name, then? Nothing at all?"

"If you really, oh so desperately need something to call me by, just use W. Not like that old fart would mind, I think. Wasn't looking so bright when I found him, anyway~."

Andy felt a light sense of discomfort creeping into his stomach. That was his, dead W, after all. He couldn't deny, though, she was quite similar. She was exactly like him, but… With more curves. A bit more mean, too.

She snapped her fingers right by his face.

"Hey! Eyes up here, Lawdog. Catch."

Before he knew it, an unpinned grenade made its way into his hands, resting there like a wounded pigeon. A gasp escaped his lips in shock.

But it didn't blow up. It simply shot out a deep, murky cloud of smoke from its side, right into his face. It got into his windpipe, traveled down his system and tickled his lungs. He coughed and coughed, almost coughing out his throat. W tilted her head in genuine amusement.

"My… Never seen a smoke grenade cause this much harm. Maybe they're not so useless after all~?"

"P-Probably not."

"Mmm. You certainly are, though."

A few more rough wheezes left his lungs before he gathered himself, holding onto that fuming cylinder.

"Tell you what…"

She took a grenade from her rig and flicked it into his arms.

"... I'll let you have this one, too. Fair? In exchange, why don't you clean up all this bloody mess, hm~? You people love upkeeping purity and all that holy bullshit, right? Scrape 'em off the walls, then."

She twirled in place, gently skipping from foot to foot, moving towards the rest of their squad and leaving Andy all alone amidst the bloody aftermath, body parts and blood laying everywhere.

"Wait. Hey, wait!"

"Mmm? What?"

"I'm, uh… Andy, by the way. Andy Ricketts."

"That so? Great, Andy Ricketts, I don't really give one. Have fun cleaning~!"

With a salvo of cold, detached laughter that sounded more like someone drowning than anything, she left him in the canyon, all alone. Just him and the smoldering grenade, smoke pouring from its fuze.

He gave a soft, disappointed sigh, as the originium within the cylinder kept burning.

Sizzling.

Bubbling.

Oozing from its metal prison, live originium turned liquid by a grand caster's warped mind. Protruding from beneath the forest litter, spilling from the carefully crafted charges and pouring out onto the crisp, night air. The explosives turned docile, W smiled in distress.

"... I spent a few hours on that, you know."

The grand sorcerer stepped from their grim formation, staff grasped tight. His voice boomed through the night, calming his weary comrades' hushed whispers.

"Sloppy work. Could sniff it out five miles back. Thought it was beast fodder at first."

Crossbow strings tightened. The hounds snarled in anticipation, pulling at their chains, bloodshot eyes locked at the meal in front. Andy felt his heart pumping blood in distress, the crimson substance quickly filling and leaving his lung. This was the reaper's very backyard. A frozen forest in the middle of a hellish wasteland, forgotten by all gods and deities. They were at death's door.

The words "fair game" echoed through his mind. Blood spilled from his mouth as he tried to speak.

"W…?"

"Shh. Plan B, moron."

"W-We have a plan B…?"

"No."

She racked back the bolt of her rifle and put the stock against her hip. Her other hand wandered into her chest rig, dropping the sack of cash. Despite the grim situation, her voice was loud and confident.

"Tch. I don't like having people fiddle with my toys, you know?"

The cloaked hunter by Andy's side turned to a cruel, disappointed onlooker. A large, ancient crossbow shifted from beneath his leathers, aimed at the boy.

"We don't like being played. Been running this business for the past forty years. You think you're the first of your kind? 'S a joke, that's what you are. A cruel, sick…"

"Yap, yap, yap."

The rifle yapped along, sending a hail of lead into the old hunter's hooded facade. He fell to the back, his grip forever locked around his weapon. The rest growled in disapproval, letting go of the hounds' chains and grasping their bolt spitters. W kept grinning maniacally, as she pulled a grenade adorned with her signature X eyed smiley face from the rig and launched it towards the group.

Screams, wailing, the loud stamping of a dozen beast's clawed paws against the frozen ground, all broken and silenced by a single, grand explosion. Shattering the eardrums of everyone present, burning their leathers, tearing their limbs and sending them flying. Andy's eyes filled with the sight of a mighty fire erupting amidst their quiet forest clearing, consuming everything it touched. Plumes of flames, massive tongues of pure white mass, licking the wicked, tearing through their dead armors, eating away their skin and flesh, leaving only the bare foundation to rot forever, forgotten by mankind. Andy felt a hand grasping his collar.

The reaper's scythe dug even deeper into his poor breathing apparatus, as the wild fiend yanked him back, dragging him along. Out of sight, she threw him behind a downed spruce and quickly cut his hands free.

"You owe me for this, Drew~! You owe me big time!"

With a wicked smile on her face, eyes wide with pleasure, she prepared another grenade from one of her endless pouches and peeked from behind cover. Loud whistles split the night air, sending blood to overflow the boy's burdened and battered brain. W, however, seemed more annoyed than worried at the moment.

"Tch… Left that bag of cash back there, Lawdog! See how much I value your life?! Forgot to grab the damn thing… Honest mistake~!"

"What d-do we…?"

"We fight! No, I fight! I show 'em what this "V" can do, ha!"

"Wait, wait, w-..."

But before he could stop her, she had already crossed the fallen stump, jumping over and rushing towards the snarling beasts and wailing hunters. Andy could only sit still against the wooden support and pray. Pray to the Law, pray to anyone that was willing to listen, pray that this whole nightmare would just end already. Pray to whatever force was strong and merciful enough to grant him a wish, just a single one. One wish. One last time. One final walk through that crimson hallway. To make it a reality, to…

A salvo of gunshots tore apart the beast's howls and the hunter's yells. A few explosions followed suit.

And then, there was silence.

Andy sat still, unmoving, paralyzed with fear. A few tears unwillingly escaped his eyes and ran down his puffy cheeks, falling into his shaking hands. He grasped his chest - it still hurt like hell.

"AAAAAAHAHA!"

The laughter echoed through the night, sending a wave of cold rummaging through his entire body. The blood in his veins, the acid in his stomach, the bile seeping from his liver, it all froze at that very moment, leaving him completely mute.

A shadow flew over him, landing gracefully in front. Her hair all disheveled, uniform torn here and there, her rig's pouches a lot less heavier than a minute ago. Yet, that wide, unhinged grin prevailed, putting all her sharp teeth on display. She got all up in his face, bringing those mad, senseless eyes right up to his, drilling into his gray irises.

"Outta ammo! Now they're really pissed, though! C'mon, Lawdog! Up you go, move it! Hedley wants you back in one piece!"

Not so gracefully, she tossed the bag of cash into his arms and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, dragging along through the bumpy forest litter. Sharp rocks, uneven edges, all scratching his skin and tearing his clothes.

"I can walk! I c-..."

"Then get up and walk! Up, up, c'mon!"

She tossed him up, grabbing him by the wrist and squeezing tightly, making sure her bag of cash wouldn't wander off anywhere.

They ran through the dark, sinister forest, between the towering pines and spruces, with piercing whistles and beastly howls on their backs. Every second, every step he took felt like death itself dragging his body down to the ground, laughing in his face and poking its scythe deeper into his lung. He grasped his side and closed his eyes, fully giving himself up to W and her navigating skills.

"Hey! No sleeping on the job, that's only for those who actually did something!"

She quickly twirled in place, giving him a hard, loving slap across the face. His mind sobered instantly.

"O-Ow…"

"Ow all you want, you lazy p-..."

A crossbow bolt swished through the air, clanking against W's horn. It ricocheted off its smooth surface and plummeted to the ground. Andy's eyes locked on the arrowhead, noticing a thick, black sludge covering the tip. His irises shrunk.

"We're in range, MOVE, MORON!"

She yanked his wrist forward, throwing herself deeper into the forest, running like a wild squirrel being chased by a mighty eagle, waiting to leap down from above and strike the poor animal with just one swift jab. One quick press of a trigger, one crossbow bolt.

Swishing constantly, one by one, the projectiles kept coming, falling everywhere around them, growing suddenly from the ground like a carpet of dead, tar covered snowdrops. Andy turned for just a moment, just a second, hoping to catch a glimpse of their demise.

A bolt flew through the air embedded itself right in his chest.

He gasped. Gas hissed. W stopped.

His eyes went wide, as he grasped the arrow and pulled it from his coat. A plume of smoke immediately followed, relieved to be finally let out into the wild. He reached inside the cloth, feeling an unpleasant warmth building up within, burning his chest and everything around. Quickly, he pulled the pierced smoke grenade he got from W a couple months ago and dropped it to the ground. It rolled away, lazily coughing out fog as it went, creating a messy smokescreen.

"F-Fuuuh…"

"What? They got you? They… HEY! I'M ASKING!"

"Just a…"

He slid his fingers along his skin underneath the shirt. The arrow barely grazed it, causing a tiny stream of blood to pour out and stain anything it touched. There was something else, however. That same, black, wretched tar from before, the one covering the arrowhead. He examined his fingertip close, seeing the dark substance bubbling lightly.

"... A scratch."

"Good! Get the bag and-..."

Another swishing projectile tore through the smoke and struck W's leg, diving deep into her thigh and sweeping her off her feet. She fell to the ground, clutching her leg and cackling like a maniac.

"AAAAHAH… AH… Ah… T-Tch… B-Bound to catch at least one!"

Andy ran to her side, dropping the cash and everything else.

"Fuck, that's bad… F-Fuhh…"

His halo dimmed, a light flick of pain coursing down his spine.

"Ow! Sorry… W, can you move? Can…?"

Her eyes were closed. Her smile was soft and gentle. She was out, cold.

"W…?"

His gaze trailed down her body, noticing a trail of black, oozing tar seeping from the wound. That very same substance that got into his system, causing his head to grow heavier with each breath he took. He felt as if he was on the very verge of falling asleep, even despite the grave danger. As if nothing really mattered at all, as if sleep could come and wash away the pain, drag him someplace warm and safe…

To that crimson corridor, those framed memories and sweet smells. To that simple, familiar door, with someone special waiting for him behind. To that melting, soft couch, where he could lay down and…

Simply.

Forget.

Everything.

…

A small voice echoed through his mind. A voice so familiar and warm. The voice of a coward turned hero in his very last, dying moments.

He whispered, filling the boy's head with nothing but his words, bouncing around his skull.

"Do it for her. She's waiting. You just need to make it out."

His eyes shot open. Gone was the darkness, the gripping feeling of dread and paralysis caused by fear. The forest seemed strange. The ground wasn't neither solid nor liquid, but something in between. A strange substance, gathering in places and lazily flaking off the surface, seeping into the endless night sky. With the stars a magnitude too massive, sprawling across the dark plains of the wide black yonder, they smiled down upon the lost little soul, glimmering and winking back at him. Andy turned to look at the carcass in front of him. So soft, so delicate, so peaceful when she was sleeping. He couldn't help but frown at the thought. Sleeping? No rest for the wicked. Not right now.

He nudged her side. Her empty face did not even budge. Her eyes were gone. Lips turned pure white.

So he nudged her again, feeling annoyed. Her soft hair rippled upwards, carried by the wind's gentle hand. As if sinking down a bottomless lake, the fabric of her melty uniform followed suit, undulating gently through the cold, night air.

Andy sighed and stood up, twirling on his heel. All around, nothing but lines and shadows, a cacophony of shapes and colors, all closing in on him, taking him into their warm embrace. He heard the distant growls. The heavy footsteps. Large silhouettes creeping behind the trees, whispering words of evil. Words completely unintelligible.

He looked up at the sky, feeling unnaturally lightheaded. A small glimmer of bright green crossed the endless pane.

He looked back down upon the earth, faced with an army of shadows, hellish, three headed beasts groveling at their feet. Proclaiming words of death, baring their jagged teeth and spitting poison upon the land, leaving it barren and sick.

W kept floating, eddying in directions beyond the three dimensions, dissipating and turning to dust. Andy fell to his knees, waiting for the squadron of hell's troops to take his head and send him home.

But then came a gentle whisper. The chiming of wind running along iron, the hardest of surfaces, whistling as it met its ravines, holes and slits.

A few soft thuds, the sounds of light, delicate shoes against the forest litter. The boy turned from the wicked infantry, gazing at the source.

In the distance, welcomed by the land of old as one of its own, stood a gentle figure, illuminated by a soft, green glow. Blurred from the boy's vision, surrounded by a tinge of the light color. With silky, smooth hair as white as the snowdrops born from the ground they walked upon, their sharp, inquisitive, greenish eyes locked on the boy's, filling him with a sense of hope. They stepped forward, their fluffy, feline ears twitching and turning, catching each soft murmur of the forest. Their luscious bangs waved tenderly, played with by the wind's teasing breeze, as a towering mass of darkness appeared by their side. A flash of red, followed by the green hue's calming return.

The feline deity did not speak. Their arm simply raised just over their waist, pointed towards the army of fiends.

The iron mass of darkness by their side twitched and turned. Baring its sharp claws, revealing its spike covered body. Waiting for a command, a signal, permission to rip the devils apart.

The figure stood silent, giving the monstrous mass, the monster of the night, a gentle tap on its side.

A low, earth shattering howl filled the night sky, silencing the hellish whispers of the dead.

The sound so strangely familiar, yet so otherworldly.

Andy couldn't quite put his finger on it.

And as the distorted wail echoed through the darkness, he finally understood:

It was the sound of a beast neither alive or dead.

A beast born by human hand.

The heart-stopping screech of an electric guitar.