Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.

I don't even know if anyone actually still reads this, lol.

Well, if you do? Enjoy!

Chapter Seventy-Two: Allegiance Part 2

When the moment came, he struck out at the creature, the metal zinging through the air, and the slightest of "fwip"s rang out as the steel tip sunk into the lower flesh of the thing's mouth. The great beast staggered back in shock, and he took the instant of confusion to leap onto the wall behind him for leverage. In less than a second, he was propelling himself forward, twisting his body with the momentum to kick at its head with a sickening crack. Now its attention was fully on him, pausing just long enough to suck in the air for its impassioned roar. The snapshot image granted for a moment's analysis by his keen eye told D that the damage (regardless of the force) it had obtained had affected it no more than if the boy had been slapped across the face. Not to be outmaneuvered so soon, D somersaulted past the creature and sprinted down the stairwell that it had entered from. He just needed enough time to trap it, to dodge past it at least once more and then he could find those up top to try to get them far enough away that—if it still lived when the opportunity came—this creature's efforts would turn to the beings that would awaken in confusion at the desecration of their laboratory.

A thick, twisted, metal contraption poked out from his immediate left as he descended to lower levels, and D realized he was looking at the door the creature had come from. The area just beyond it was demolished beyond recognition, bars cut to ribbons, smashed to bent and failed sculptures, monuments to hubris and disaster. It smelled of waste and confinement…too rank to be anything less than a space for two. However, there was no secondary creature to be seen. Noting this, he ran ever further into the abyss with the carnivorous thing he could see gaining speed behind him, its hot breath filling the hallway with its putrid air. The stairwell rattled and clanged with each gigantic footfall and would have smothered all other sounds had he been a regular human being. However, he appreciatively perceived the softer, slower, footsteps that moved further away from him; a sign that at least something was going right.

He dodged into the next doorway he saw—the first closed hallway thus far in the facility—and let his motion take him sliding across the first carpeted area he had run across in some time. The boy spun much like one who rollerblades would take a twirling stop, so that he could begin running backwards, observing this experiment as it hunted him. It was gaining again after a brief moment of sashaying its bulk through the slightly too small entrance, but he had managed to dive into another room at that point, causing it to rush past with the current force of its weight impeding its slowdown. He took this chance to regulate himself slightly, or as much as he could plastered against the wall as he was. A cursory glance showed him this was a smaller break room, one that held a refrigerator. Aware that it was too soon for the creature to lose sight of him, he investigated just long enough to confirm that yes, a few covered canisters resided within the humming machinery. They would be full of blood in a type of stasis, unpleasantly cold and in need of some type of reconstitution, but enough for a bite to eat (no pun intended) if the workers became too peckish and there was not enough fresh from the source to go around. He marveled that at one time the concept would have hardly made him bat an eye. Still, he had a duty to perform. With his growling stomach a bitter distraction, he willed himself to close the refrigerator door, and exit just as the creature had made its about face.

He stayed slow enough to spot and darted into the room parallel to the one he had been in before. It opened to an expansive chamber where he was certain much debate would take place before the screens that likely shared out the laboratory's most recent findings. It was a perfect spot as any to play his dangerous game of tag, and no better a place to have the beast mangle as it went after him in its throes. This time he did not get the advantage to brace himself before he had to take evasive maneuvers. The snout of the long-denied creature fussed through the entryway just then and began its chase anew.

The entirety of the evasions that he took blurred together; he was not even clear how he managed to bypass its kicking legs for much of their encounter. All he knew was by the time he was able to exit the area, the acrid scent of the beginnings of an electrical fire amongst the wreckage was taking form and that the creature itself lay dead in the middle of the scene. He stumbled out of the room, breathing heavily as one did after having run a mile. His panic was giving way to the beginnings of fatigue and the concept alarmed him: firstly, due to the length of time that he must have spent down there running in order to feel actual exertion, and secondly, to the fact that it most certainly would start affecting his effectiveness. He was not slowing, yet, but his rationale of escaping had suffered. Twice he mistimed a side-step and once a leaping split, and the only thing that had saved him had been his speed to course correct.

When D had tried to injure the beast twice to slow its progress at the beginning, he had found that whatever the scientists had done to manipulate the cell structure and defenses of this thing made cutting through anything other than the softer flesh around its mouth nigh impossible with his current instrument (and perhaps current training). In fact, he noted that his poor katana was quite dented at what had once been its sharpest point for his efforts, and that he would need to spend much time researching and resharpening the blade to get it back to its former state. So, remembering where he had once caused it great pain, he had continued to prod the monster mid-bite to keep its attention and run it until it had tired enough for him to ram his blade through its eye with accuracy.

D staggered down the stairs to verify that he had, indeed, taken care of the issue before making his final ascent and was greeted with a floor that looked like labs meant for more delicate gene splicing. He would have ignored it, and turned around, having seen enough of his father's and his father's friends' work to last him a lifetime, but there had been a peculiar depression on the railing just past it. Something had scuffed the lower half, and he thought whatever had done it may have been mechanical in nature. Thus, he resumed his descent, curious to see if whatever had created the damage could be something to assist them.

Below was a landing that caught his full attention—one that seemed built for storage, and specifically for items of a nature he would be most interested in. He weaved through the rooms here, grabbing a few batteries to shove in his pockets even if he did not see a single flashlight to use them with. In one area of particular relevance, there was a line of devices meant for lab work, and next to that, a row of wheelchairs. D slowed to a stop, tilting his head in interest. He could grab one to take upstairs. However, this simple distraction had generated a consequence he had not foreseen.

He heard it before he saw it and smelled it before he heard it. That vile stench filled his nose, and he detected the clinking of its scaly feet against the metallic ground as the deceased creature's partner came looming out of the dim of another unassuming chamber. D gasped, turned, and made to run, muscles poised for a powerful forward jump, when he felt a heavy foot slam against his back. He grunted as his chest was crushed full force into the slatted metal ground, the weight of one leg alone uncomfortably cracking his back. A silent scream failed to release from his open lips as its claws buried into his skin, tearing wide down along the sides of his spine. His body trembled as the pain coursed through him, yet still he was grateful for what had not been lacerated beyond use or the fact he did not feel that the monster had cut enough to expose bone.

He struggled onto his damaged back and raised his left hand to beat the reaching creature's grasping claws away, only to have it snap his arm up to his shoulder into its jaws. This time a real cry wheezed through D's lips, but rather than waste what little time he had by bemoaning the sawing feeling that skimmed along his bone as razor sharp teeth began to tear it away from its socket, he stretched for his sword once more—just barely in reach—and jabbed it into the most pliable part on the side of its mouth.

He escaped only through the monster's own vicious reaction of spinning away from the cause of the discomfort. Unthinkingly, he took the moment to fling his hat to the side and crawl over to the wheelchair rack. Instead of grabbing for one as he had intended earlier, though, he squeezed between the folded constructions and the wall rack that held them, breathing heavily with each motion. The thing let out a whistling growl, wind passing through where he had cut the creature between the ligaments of its jaw, and swiveled in confusion, searching for its most recently disappeared meal. D clipped his latest gasp of misery, worming in silence through the cramped area, hoping that he would either find a vent or other opening to shimmy past the thing that was now snuffling the ground. The sound of its rough tongue licking at the trail of blood he left behind both sickened him and left him with a touch of jealousy. Of course, this beast did not have to worry about the morality of its intended meal. He had reached the halfway point of the lineup when he saw that the creature was following this trail to his cover. D grimaced and redoubled his efforts. The stomping beast would be upon him in mere moments. He watched its progress helplessly through the spokes.

Reaching both arms before him after clamping the hilt of his sword between his teeth, fighting back a spasm as a tearing, stinging sensation radiated through the entirety of his left appendage, he grabbed for the furthest divider and pulled himself along. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. He copied the motion once more, until his head was crammed against the last set of mobility devices, the long-desired vent finally in his sights.

Across the room.

At the moment, he was glad he had inadvertently gagged himself with the way he held his katana, because a slew of unhelpful curses bounded back and forth in his mind and rushed forth in unintelligible grumblings. He did not want to die; he had to remain the distraction and then find everyone else a way out. Thus far, he had been a great one—even if the method of being said distraction left much to be desired in the way of how his body was handled. Still, he had to take stock of the present and recognize that he was bleeding profusely, and that he was in no proper position to fight against the reddened teeth that gnashed at him from the bloodied entrance he had tucked himself away from. How long could this bolted rack hold up against this clearly hungry and frightening beast? How long could his arm keep behaving before it would rest limply, useful muscles strained to their last? D groaned as he shifted to free his right arm in order to pin the left down at the shoulder, willing the motion to speed along its healing.

"I hate you," he mouthed around his sword in the direction of the experimental creature. His mind swam, exhausted and hurting. Once more the boy regretted that Bakura was not there. At the very least, he would have had Diabound be the decoy. D's eyelids fluttered, and he felt his consciousness fall backwards into a dark tunnel. The last thing he recalled were the enticing lines of the vent he could have escaped through, taunting him from the opposite side of the room.

"Where is he?" inquired another, more familiar creature, one that crossed its thin void-like legs as it rested atop a wall that glistened white, like pale limestone in moonlight.

D blinked, observing his surroundings. He was more than a little mystified. "This isn't a good time," he said.

"I doubt it is, my good friend," they said, smiling that sharp, toothy grin of theirs. Their red eyes burned deeper than hot coals. "Currently dying?"

"I don't think so…"

"Well, buddy buddy, I can tell you that you aren't doing a great job of living. The scent of blood is thick, even here." It waved its arms around the emptiness they resided in, and the boy had to concede their point. The coppery smell permeated every invisible square inch, drowning out any other minute sensation he could have. That feeling of hunger rocked him again but having held onto fear of so many other things for so long in such a brief period of time, the stress he usually felt regarding it felt numb in comparison. At least for now. "I can even taste a hint of your soul," it added, pulling him from retrospection. Its expression was one of a starving person sitting before a feast.

"Did you pull me here?" he interrogated, aware that with each second that he spent wherever he was, one was wasted where his body lay prone and unprotected. "Send me back, right now."

Its smile faded. "You do remember that we have a deal?"

"You do know I have to survive in order to complete this deal?" he retorted.

"Have I not been holding up my end of the bargain with assisting you?" it growled back, leaping from its spot and advancing on him. "Your hand certainly awoke to some fascinating powers that you have had at your disposal."

"Ones that I can't fully use—"

"Yet. You haven't practiced enough with them. Still! After all this time."

"I don't have time for this—"

"You will have the time, or you won't have time at all!" the creature shrieked into his face, much like Claire on a rampage, but with such an intense aura that it made the boy stumble backwards and hit a wall that he had not realized was there. It reached out on either side of his head, arms enclosing him in an even smaller space, his pointed ears picking up that its nails had dug into the very stone he rested upon. D swallowed but did his best not to have his legs quake in fear of this oppressiveness, not even to feel the overpowering emotion. It was able to smell the reality of his position, it may be that it could smell his feelings as well. If he showed any weakness past what he already had, perhaps it would call upon the larger monster that roamed this land. Sure, it had promised safety, when it was in a good mood. But now? This was a volatile ally at best—if he could call it that.

"Your attitude needs work," he replied with a calm he would become famous for. He leaned in far enough to where their noses touched, using the nearness to further illustrate how little the threat had bothered him. "If I'm supposed to be working this out, you'll need to act properly contrite. Practice with a little gratefulness to me."

The creature blinked in surprise, cocking its head in a birdlike fashion. One that reminded him a little too much of the creature that had rendered his left arm practically useless, but he even fought back against that discomfort. He decided to hedge his bet by calmly placing both of his hands upon their shoulders, rather than pushing the shadow creature away from him.

"So far, he is telling me good things about you," he began with slow, deliberate, speech. 'The Darkness' is still mad, but I'm wearing him down for now. I did not willingly come here empty handed. Have a little faith in me and stop asking me the same questions every time we meet…especially ones you already know the answers to."

The creature's face widened into a smile once more, caught in whatever game it had been playing. "Sorry for all of that," it said, wrapping its abyss-like arms around him in a chilling embrace. Still nose to nose, it chuckled. "I just had to be sure of where your allegiance lies. I know that many, once granted what I can offer, like to take, and forget what they owe."

"Why did you pull me here now?" D demanded, trying his best not to shiver as that cold filtered into him. He could have argued that it was a sensation that sparked from the real world if the feeling did not reach into his very heart. "Why, when you know I'm in danger?"

"To give you a better chance. To help you bolster your strength, my guy," they said, moving to tap his nose with the dangerously sharp point of their claw. "You're dying, like I said, unless you get sustenance. Your little…companion…can't do much good from where you currently are."

It withdrew from its hold upon him and grasped his freezing and unoccupied left hand much like it had the first time. "Let me give you a little of my strength for just a bit of what you are; do whatever menial mortal task you must, whatever it is that you are so wrapped up in, and then get back to the one that must be completed."

With a flourish, it did a little bow, and kissed the back of the hand it held. D felt disgust wriggle through his intestines like so many worms; the type of worms that came bursting forth from cadavers left hidden half buried in the wilderness. His jaw ached suddenly, and tattered bits of memory from a dream that felt like ages ago rocked through him. He wanted to tear his hand away, to scream and run like when that giant of a monster pursued him. Not for the first time did he wonder why he had ever agreed to this plan. This was a land where monsters could devour your soul—but they could do more than feast, yes, they could taint a soul in just the same way. So what if the consumption was less appealing after the fact? The creatures here could have their cake and eat it too.

That did not mean he could; and oh, to think of the price for even trying.

He had to find Bakura. He had to help those women. Yet, he could not take this offer, even if it meant his death. Not that it had come to that yet. Loosing blood was bad for him, yes, but his real concern had been being dismembered. His father's words echoed from yet another distant, hazy memory from before his introduction to the outside world—"the reattachment time leaves something to be desired but should suffice so long as you retain the limb. Now as for a full regeneration…"—and he recalled with ease the feeling of a severed wrist. No, he was hurt, very hurt, but hardly dying. This creature must never have dealt with an individual quite like him.

"Send me back," he instructed instead.

"What?" This time its alarm came without any anger, gestures, or jesting. It really was shocked by his blunt refusal.

"If I need you, I'll call for you," he said. "In place of your assistance, watch what I can do myself, and know that our current pact is in good hands."

"Pact, hm?" It tapped at its lips with what he thought was the pad of its index finger. His hand still rested in the clutches of its other chilling palm. "I like the way you phrase that. Still, I must have a little something—"

"You are clearly connected to me in some way and can sense what is going on in my life. I think that is enough." He paused. "You also once promised you'd never eat me."

"Fine," it pouted, dropping his hand. It then paused, grinned once more, and glanced up at him coyly. "I suppose just to taste what could be is enough for now."

"What could be? For now?"

It shrugged. "Don't let me down, boy…D…and I suppose you won't have to find out."

He frowned, disliking the insinuation. "I've already given you my word. I'm on your side."

It nodded. In a sudden flare of darkness, new features formed that he had never seen it produce. Thick black horns protruded from either side of its head, curving slightly where its presenting ears hung. Another, slimmer pair jutted straight up from just behind its forehead. Leather wings burst forth from its back, tipped with dangerous looking claws. It looked more like the "dream" monster now than ever. While it worried him, something about the way it shed its attempts at being "human" drew him in more than he would have liked to confess. It was being honest with him here; or at least, a little more honest. He did still feel like there was even more to its appearance that it held back. Nonetheless, he must have struck some chord within the creature for it to have exposed itself so.

"Quite so," it said, its voice becoming many. "I suppose I should be more generous with you. You have been trying."

"What ever happened to the concept that this world would be too dangerous for me to linger in for too long?" he asked, crossing his arms. Precious time continued to tick by, and he was getting impatient. 'And are you more related to that massive beast that also roams this world than I would like?' he thought to himself.

"What can I say?" it teased. "You are acclimating to my home so well. And I do get lonely."

"Your friend, 'The Darkness', will be by your side soon enough—if I could just continue with my present business."

It tilted its head once more. "Maybe I want more than just one friend. Maybe you intrigue me more than I originally thought. I think that maybe one day, you'll be the kind of person who could play games with me. Oh, how exciting! How enticing! How fun!" It squealed with the trill of nails on a chalk board in its revelry. D grit his teeth together but refrained from clapping his hands over his ears like he wanted to. Better not to distract it, and to let it come to its own conclusion. He was beginning to understand how this particular part of 'the game' was played.

"But you are right," it continued, "I am keeping you from your previous engagements, and it is making you just sooo grumpy." It waggled its claw at him and chuckled. "With that, safe travels my sweet shadow friend."

With a nonchalant wave of its hand, he was falling back, back, back into that darkened tunnel once more. As he fell, he was surprised at how grateful he felt for that brief respite in spite of the frustrating interaction. For what else could he have called this moment that had steadied him just enough to remember the simplest solution to the problem he faced?

"Hey? Hey!? Kid, don't mess with me here!" a familiar cry assailed his ears, and D groaned in response. His eyes snapped open to a hazy, shaky vision of the very same vent he had been staring at before his impromptu check-in. He spat out the hilt of his blade and shifted ever so slightly to look at the area just beyond where his legs were scrunched up and away from. He ignored the bantering of his hand for a few moments more as he observed with drowsy curiosity the scene that presented itself to him.

The monster that had been chasing him in the real world was making the oddest of noises. It lay upon its side in an unnatural sprawl, shaking in great violent spasms. All attempts at coming for the boy had come to a standstill in the wake of whatever ailed it. As it seized, he let out a disbelieving laugh. It was acting like it was poisoned or something.

"Finally awake," his hand breathed in relief. "What the hell do you think you were doing, passing out on me like that?! Don't go playing at being a hero if you aren't ready to do so! You've got more than yourself to think about here. What about my safety?!"

"You're alive," the boy replied, feeling about as callous as his response sounded.

"No thanks to somebody who just threw themself at something three times the size of themself, which neither of us knew anything about!"

"Just fix my arm," he said, beginning his slow backwards crawl out of his hiding place. No one aside from the beast was around him, and his internal clock suggested he still had a little light to work with up above.

"Just fix my arm, he says," his hand groused. "Like that doesn't take any time, or materials, or energy, or effort—"

"You sound pretty energetic from where I am," D countered.

"I'll have you know that you aren't the only one who has to suffer from the pain!"

"Then fix the pain."

"You're such a little shit."

Giving a final push with his good right arm and using his heels, he slid out of his former hiding place and propped himself into a seated position. He stared at the floundering creature while the feeling of heat followed by cold wind enveloped his left side.

"What do you think happened?" the boy asked, sheathing his katana in its carrier that sat askew on his back. It was probably a mess, and he would have to clean it. Maybe even repaint it, depending on how badly it had gotten knocked around. He also grabbed for his discarded hat. That, at least, was untouched.

"Kinda…busy…" his singular companion replied. D sat in the dark, continuing to observe the slowing twitches of his most recent enemy. His eyes only flicked to his left once he heard, "Need dirt."

"No dirt here," D said.

"How observant. You gonna tell me that there's plenty outside?"

"Maybe."

"You know your attitude has just gone down the drain since leaving your father's side."

"At this point, I will wear that as a badge of pride," he muttered, wiping at his wound to remove any traces of saliva. He watched as a new flow began to eke out of one of the punctures and placed his right index finger upon it to let it gather there. Considered it, as the liquid began to drip down to his palm, and then brought it to his mouth.

The action brought forth an almost consuming hunger, but also gave him the energy to stand, and the clarity to deliberate on what to do next. He would need to revisit the break room level, much to his chagrin, but as his hand so graciously put, there was no use in crying over spilled milk, or rather…

D had clenched his hand so hard at that that he had felt something pop. Ah well. He would have to use his right arm anyway to carry the wheelchair upstairs.

By the time he reached the top of the stairway, any hint of life that he could have heard from the creature that had ambushed him had ceased. He felt fine considering how his interaction had gone, if not extremely guilty for a variety of reasons (although with an odd taste in his mouth now, as if he had eaten something artificial), but he must have looked disconcerting to the two women that remained at the top landing based on their expressions. If he could judge their behavior to his appearance by anything, it was how they could suddenly track his eyes in what was otherwise a relatively obscured visage. The dim floor lighting made shadows of them all.

Apparently their third, the redhead, had run off on her own once they had made it to their semi-lit destination while the other two had agreed to wait for him to return. There had been no persuading her to remain calm after she had tripped. She had not run back downstairs but rather shot clear of where they had been, bouncing off the walls here and there with little squeaks of surprise. He questioned the soundness of her choice, but he could not blame her as Cindy told the tale. It was not like this darkness was helping them any; if anything, he was debriefed at how claustrophobic the whole ordeal was. And, unless he was able to get them out of there in time, how much worse it could become outside in enemy territory.

Night was nearly upon them.

He was grateful no one said a word once he located and placed Mokuba in the wheelchair he had unfolded. Either the shine was imperceptible to humans, or the pair had just accepted it as another odd thing to add to the pile of their current life experiences. By now his arm was healed enough to push the chair for his friend, but he still reeked of blood—and he noticed when Mokuba's eyes flicked his way. Yes, something definitely had been done to him.

He pressed on, creating his line by maneuvering Mokuba, and having everyone else follow his lead. It was quiet, save for the clattering of the chair. All was going well. He could see the entrance and the bright pink and yellow fading to the gray-blue light of impending darkness. It would be enough. Once everyone could see clearly, they would be able to move much faster, he could take the road so that they left no trail and—

A hiss of pain caught his ear, and his focus whipped to the sound's origin.

Just up ahead, not too far from the blinking monitor, he saw what he had dismissed as a locker of sorts when he had entered. Currently, it hung ajar, with a figure crouched down to remain hidden by the imperfect shadow that the object cast. This person stared at their arm as their flesh sizzled where the sun had hit it. The locker had been something else. An unassuming casket, built for the ease of one vampiric guard to remain near the controls at any given time. D froze in place as the injured individual's attention moved from their wound to his group, standing confused and partially blinded in the doorway. He swallowed, his heart sinking faster than it had down below. He did not recognize this woman, but he did recognize that she donned a uniform that would fit nicely amongst the décor of this laboratory. As such, they had been delivered into the arms of the enemy.

"Who—?" she began, but by that time D had already begun pushing again. Utilize the confusion, his mind screamed, and the light. The light is still there!

"Run!" he shouted, releasing his hold on Mokuba's chair, and placing Cindy's hands upon it. "Go! Just Go! Get away from this base!"

The women bolted as quickly as their unexercised human legs could carry them, more shoving than pushing the injured man along as the light dimmed evermore. D had turned before they had cleared the exit and pointed a finger at the female vampire who remained in a bewildered state. Her face smoothed as surprise hit it, then wrinkled into a frown of questioning, unable to decipher what was happening in front of her.

"Don't follow us," he ordered, moving to pursue his friends in their escape.

"What is going on?" she asked as he turned. She came up to a standing position, the shadow having elongated enough to do so. "Who are you?"

Fury flamed within him. How many of their victims had asked the same? He knew Bakura had, in so many words. Visions from the exam rooms below assaulted him. Had his mother? "That does not matter," he growled, and angled his gaze upon her once more to make his point. "But you should be ashamed. You and everyone who has ever worked here."

"I—?"

"Silence!" he snapped, his voice cracking. The concept of buying time for the others had not crossed his mind. Rather, the flashes of everything he had seen below, and everything that he could recall that had been so normalized just a few years ago battered his mind. He finally had someone to turn his anger toward. Even if it was only one. "What you are doing here is just making life difficult for everyone. It did not have to be this way. You did not have to be monsters about it—or make them! This world does not need monsters! This world does not need people like me! And in the end, all of this suffering is going to come to what? Nothing! Once he wakes up from his stupid dreams, your experiments will make him sick! Because he will know that he has failed! That he was wrong! The sad abysmal truth you all ignore is that you will all pass in time—as everything does!—but you hurry that decline by just using everyone! All you'll leave behind as a legacy is hatred and pain!"

"Wait, you're—?" Realization dawned upon her pained face. The scarring along her arm was fading, much like the light that enveloped him from outside leaving him a dark shadow in the light.

"And for the last time, I don't want to go back!" He began backing away, keeping her in his sights as he did so. Still, he enunciated everything to make his point and mark his contempt as it was. His canines bared as he continued. "I know you have to report this. In fact, I want you to. You tell your masters to tell him: I. Will. Not. Go. To. Him. And I won't let him hurt my friends anymore."

"I will," the vampire vowed. "But, if…you and your friends are escaping, the others here will have to go looking for you. And if you're his, then you are like us. You're going against your own, here."

"I've made my decision as to who I will protect. Leave me be."

When he reached the asphalt, he spun on his heel, and ran as fast as he could down the road. The wind whistled past him, and as he moved to find those he had rescued, he wondered briefly once more, if any of that had been worth it. The pain, the reminders, the knowledge he had, all of it.

In the end, he supposed it did—if only to be used as tools to protect the ones he cared about.

With that, he was satisfied. At least until he realized that he had cleared the curve around the mountainside and had gone up enough of the road to where he should have seen his retreating group before him. They could not have gone far, after all. Yet, what currently greeted him was an empty stretch of tattered pavement. Once again, it appeared that he was alone.

The boy swayed on his legs before they gave way and he collapsed, seated upon the faded middle line like a baby who had just stood and fallen, now resting in his confusion and waiting for his parents to come collect him. His body may have been reeling with the energy of the night, but mentally he was so tired. Anxieties fluttered like moths to the flame of his mind. Had they left him? Somehow climbed? Fallen past the sparse guard-railing and further down the mountainside? Already been attacked? Or…had they run the opposite way? The opposite way would have made them perfect targets for their captors! Was this his fault for not being clear? He sat there in the approaching night, looking at his bloodied hands, at a loss for what to do next.

He only pulled himself from his tired bewilderment when he heard pebbles and dirt sliding down the side of one of the sloping parts of the mountain. By then the edge of twilight had burned to the cool grey light of new night and he was certain this was his first pursuer. Assurance that a new battle was under way fell flat on its imaginary face when he saw the shiny carapace of a metallic horse. Upon it was a rider he would have never expected to see, dirtied, frowning, and holding their weapon half at the ready in the hand that did not hold the reins. Blue eyes narrowed, then widened, and the new arrival set their gun across their legs to wipe sweaty strands of brown hair out of their eyes.

This person who now rode up to him and motioned for him to hop on, was none other than…Anzu!?