Just another warning, we are going to get into some very darkish things over the next few chapters, which is sorta per usual in a zombie!AU fic, but I still wanted to warn people! Our two favs are in for some trouble, sadly.

Lots of people are always asking for more Sweet Pea POV. Usually, unless there's something that needs clarifying, I don't often find the need to give him as much headspace. Also, he and Betty up until this point were sorta a one-track mind. As in, they just click so well that at the house day-to-day, we don't need to see both of their thoughts. Welp, it's different now. We're going to be seeing quite a bit of Sweet Pea's POV and you guys might hate me for it XD

The song title doesn't mean this is the end of the story, in fact, I have the next two chapters written because this arc is just so evil and interesting and it's sorta like a trainwreck. I just can't stop writing it. It more refers to the end of their time completely alone with no other human contact.

Song is The End by The Doors.

Thank you to my reviewers: Chloee0x0, Red23, Ava, and victorialexington!

Red23: I update this story once a month! So around the 4th of every month, be on the lookout for a new update! The dynamic is def going to change, for good or worse...read on!

Ava: I get it! It was a busy time of the year and all. Yes, our favs are finally on the same page...shame if something were to...make it difficult to explain this to each other

March 6th, 2019

Sweet Pea's fingers groped helplessly through the half-picked over cabinets. His head swam with a fear that hadn't come to pass, but might very well. He shouldn't have been digging so blindly in the wooden structure. He should have double-checked. But hell, that raccoon came flying out of fucking nowhere. At least it was dead now, but god damn that bite had hurt!

He was so stupid, he hadn't even considered rabies!

Damn, he'd be dead five times over if it weren't for Betty.

Betty Cooper, honest to god, probably the love of his life.

He should have woken her to tell her this morning, but she looked so beautiful sleeping. He had thought what was the harm of letting her have a couple more hours? Of making her a nice breakfast for her to wake up to?

It seemed all they had was endless time, so the idea that they wouldn't have any had been laughable.

Of course, of course, he had to go and get bitten.

His fingers found a small vial. It was half-ripped off, but he caught the end of it. Or the beginning of it, rather.

"POSTEXPOSURE PROPH-,"

He turned it around, "PEP," He breathed out loud, "This...this is it! Betty! I got it. Betty?"

He realized he hadn't heard her moving things on the cart for a few minutes. It had been oddly quiet on her front.

Sweet Pea stood, setting the PEP next to the tetanus shot and a few unused needles. He peered out into the hall but saw nothing.

Which was terrifying, because Betty was supposed to be right there.

Fuck.

If it was walkers, he'd heard it, wouldn't he?

"Okay, don't panic yet," He mumbled to himself, but something in his gut didn't feel right. FP had taught him many lessons, but the most salient one was always to listen to what your stomach was telling you. And, if he'd been more attentive, he would have realized that the ball of ice was not related to his possible rabies case.

It was something much worse.

Yep. Time to panic a little.

As he was turning around to grab his trusty bat, something hit him on the back of the head. Hard.

His eyes broke with stars as he felt a sharp pain on the back of his skull. Sweet Pea, who was made of stronger stuff, stumbled a few steps. He felt the back of his head and felt a sore area. No blood, no cuts. Just going to leave a helluva bruise and a fucking bad headache.

Enraged, he turned to find two men. Is it two, or is his vision screwy? Damn it, it's two.

They were somewhere between the ages of twenty and thirty, not too much older than he was. One had a crowbar, and this time when he swung it, Sweet Pea barely dodged it. The other was outfitted with a small, but rather deadly, looking knife. Sweet Pea wasn't the type to laugh at the smallness of weapons (first off, just rude) because he knew that something super small could still leave your guts ribboned like confetti.

"Two against one? Fucking unfair," Sweet Pea hissed to himself, trying to get a good read on both of them.

FP also told him to always watch his opponent. Not to keep one eye on them (duh!) but to catalog who they were and what their weaknesses were right away.

Sure, he'd done two against one match before. If you were a Serpent, you couldn't be so pathetic as to imagine you'd only ever be facing a dude one-on-one, like a video game or some bullshit. It didn't mean that Sweet Pea had been looking forward to this today, and that head-shot was really uncool of them.

Of course, he assumed it was meant to kill him, or at least knock him out.

He didn't even have time to consider this was the first humans he'd seen besides Betty in forever. Humans could go the hell away, considering these ones were pretty much trying to kill him. He'd take isolation any day over this!

Sweet Pea grabbed for his bat. Before he could grab it though, the crowbar hit the back of his knees. He crumbled, barely missing the weapon coming down right by his head. Then he jolted the other way, missing the knife as it came down and just grazed his ear.

Sweet Pea kicked out his legs at the same time he grabbed the knife with his fist, throwing it far away, despite the cut that it would leave on his palm.

These fuckers were messing with the wrong survivor.

The man with the crowbar, probably a former college student, crumbled to the ground. The dude with the knife, who looked a few years younger (Freshman? High school senior? Hard to tell at a quick glance, Sweet Pea decided) cursed as he tried to find another weapon.

Sweet Pea attacked viciously. They clawed and hissed, all three of them, like feral cats, circling around and brushing for the first couple moments. The two were sharing looks that Sweet Pea didn't like, a silent language exchanged. No. That was not going to fly. So, things were going great as they Rosetta-stoned it out...until Sweet Pea got fed up and he lunged.

Take out the younger one first. The stronger one would put up more of a fight, so that would be the most reasonable first hit, but he also had a feeling that he was going to be a pain in his ass.

The smaller one was unarmed now. Sweet Pea grabbed his head and pulled down the same moment he snapped his knee up, hard. He felt his knee connect with the younger one's nose as it shattered. The younger one slumped to the ground, blood oozing onto the floors. It took maybe two seconds at most to execute this. Messy, but effective.

One down.

He managed to duck right before the second one got another nasty head-wound in. As he spun, he cast his arm out to catch the older kid by the stomach, knocking the wind out of him momentarily. He wrestled the kid, grasping the man in a headlock. He thought it was going to be done as he strengthened his hold, aiming to knock the more seasoned attacker out. As the older one lost air, the crowbar hit the ground with a resounding clang. Sweet Pea made sure to kick that one far away too and he tightened his hold.

He wasn't looking to kill either of them yet, but goddamn who could blame him if he accidentally squeezed him a bit too hard? The kid clawed back frantically, digging hard into Sweet Pea's arm and drawing blood, but gave that up soon. His fingers fished, finding a surgical scalpel on the ground and digging it into Sweet Pea's leg. Sweet Pea hissed but did not let up.

"Fuck you," He snarled, "You should have hit harder the first time," He added. Taunting the enemy was childish, yes, but this kid should know where he fucked up. Because now? Now Sweet Pea was going to end him.

The kid sucker-punched him. As Sweet Pea was wheezing, he managed to get the upper hand. He was stronger than he seemed and was able to slam Sweet Pea to the ground. Sweet Pea's nose connected hard with the floor, and he heard the crack. Blood poured over his lips, down his chin.

A nose for a nose. Fair, but whatever. Hurt like a bitch.

He had assumed this one to be a bit better, but only a bit. Overall, had underestimated him entirely. This dude was a far bigger challenge. The younger one was still out for the count on the ground. Sweet Pea sort of hoped he choked on his own blood. The college kid grabbed Sweet Pea's hair to savagely bludgeon him against the linoleum floors, but Sweet Pea squirmed. He wasn't going to make this easy.

As the boy struggled with his hold, and the reality of the situation crashed upon him (Fuck, this kid was really trying to kill him! This is how he could go out! This really sucked!) he ripped the scalpel from his leg. It hurt and Betty was going to have a field day with him, but his bat was too far away and there weren't many other weapons in his arm's reach. His bag was even farther. Damnit!

He managed to turn just enough to dislodge the kid's hold on him. He slumped off and Sweet Pea shoved him back against a row of gurneys. The metal gnashed and crashed around them as Sweet Pea grasped his face, digging the scalpel into the kid's eye.

The kid screamed. It was no scream Sweet Pea had ever heard before. It was almost otherworldly like the devil was being exorcised from his body. It was a most horrifying caterwaul, something right out of a Stephen King novel.

But Sweet Pea did not hesitant, nor even flinch.

The kid screamed and screamed and screamed on the floor of the hospital and then got very quiet.

Maybe he was dead?

Sweet Pea leaned down to feel his pulse. Weak, but there.

Okay. He now had basically two bodies. What should he do? Leave them be? Kill them now?

There was this one, Mr. One-Eye, and then there was Hardly-Legal and…

Fuck. Hardly-Legal wasn't on the floor anymore.

Sweet Pea realized a very, very, very colossal mistake only as he felt someone grab his chin from behind, and then the feel of something cold and metal being pressed against his jugular.

He hadn't been paying attention to the other one.

Then, Sweet Pea felt a blinding pain before absolutely nothing.

XXxxXX

Sweet Pea couldn't breathe right. When he woke up to darkness, the first thing he realized was that it really hurt to breathe.

His fingers flew to his neck.

There was dried blood all over. It was sticky and gross and covering his entire front like a fashion statement.

He ran a shaky finger over his neck.

Somehow, almost impossibly, Hardly-Legal had fucked up slitting his throat.

He'd done it alright, just not deep enough to cut anything fatal. Sweet Pea had been squirming around a lot, and from the scalpel on the ground, it seemed like the idiot had used the wrong side.

People make mistakes.

Thank god for that.

Okay, so a throat half-way cut open wasn't good , but it wasn't bad. Things could be far worse.

One-Eye was still on the ground. The room was abandoned in a hurry. Best Sweet Pea could imagine, the kid had thought he'd killed Sweet Pea (who, no doubt, had passed out) and had ran. Probably imagined whoever died first would turn and eat the other's body. No-fuss, no muss.

Except, well, he wasn't dead.

He wasn't sure One-Eye was dead either, to be honest.

Like he'd said, rookie mistakes. Ones that were working in his favor in a weird, deus ex machina way. This was one of the few times that Sweet Pea would consider the belief of some greater god watching over him, it should be noted.

"Betty!" his voice was hoarse like he'd been smoking eight packs a day for fifty years.

Silence.

If Betty was around, she would have come looking for him, wouldn't she?

God, if they were trying to kill him…

Sweet Pea forced himself to stand. He had to find Betty.

His vision swam and he stumbled, grasping onto a gurney before he fell face-first back to the floor. No one warned him that walking with his neck bleeding was going to be so hard. Someone should have.

What to do about this asshole too? If he was going to die, Sweet Pea didn't want to deal with a zombie. No siree. He also didn't really want to kill him right now. Call him crazy, but the idea of killing him when he was down just left a bad taste in his mouth. Plus, he must be near death anyway.

He tried to lug him to a door next to the hospital room but realized quickly that he did not have the strength for that.

Okaaaaay...plan B.

He jumped across the room for his bag, hands slick with blood (mostly his own, yuck) as he fumbled with the straps. It took three tries, and twelve seconds, to untie it and grab what he was looking for. Barley-Legal hadn't even thought to take this. Lucky for him. His fingers grasped his goal.

A gun.

He turned it to the kid, his aim true. He kicked him a few times, waking him up. The kid just moaned.

"You fucking lose," He snarled, wiping his nose, as though that would help the copious amounts of blood that had started to pour from it again.

"What?"

"I said you've lost." Sweet Pea said, "Your partner failed to kill me. And then got the hell out of dodge."

The horror of Sweet Pea's words began to settle in.

"No...he wouldn't...he-,"

"Left you here to die. Muster any strength you have and get in there. Or else," Sweet Pea commanded, cocking his gun as he motioned to the door.

"You wouldn't dare," The kid's response was watery, his voice raw from screaming, "It will bring all the stumblers out."

"You probably already did that," Sweet Pea said, eyes flickering to the scalpel sticking from his eye socket still, "And I ought to leave you to them," He said.

He paused, though, locking his jaw. Without ever dropping his carefully aimed weapon, he nodded to the adjoining bathroom. It was small and windowless. Perfect.

"In there," Sweet Pea demanded, "And no funny business. I will not hesitate to blow your goddamn brains out."

The kid shivered, realizing he'd lost. Realizing that he'd been marooned and that death was probably imminent.

He no longer looked like a brazen college man. He looked like a pathetic child.

"I need...I'll die if I don't…" He blubbered, and now that he wasn't snarling or fighting, he seemed much younger. For sure hardly over 22, Sweet Pea guessed. He seemed small and fragile when faced with his impending doom.

"Not really my problem." Sweet Pea said with a nonchalant shrug, "Get. In. There." He said, "You're lucky I'm not killing you now."

The kid stumbled across the blood-soaked floor to the bathroom. Once he was inside, Sweet Pea found a rope and tied the door closed. Then, he shoved a cabinet in front of the door, assuring that he wouldn't get getting out anytime soon. Even that taxed a lot out of him, so he'd need to be aware of his own strength that was left as he went on.

One-Eye probably would die in there. But that walker wouldn't be getting out either. He'd mark it later, he considered, holstering the gun close and safe, in case there were any other unfriendlies.

He grabbed his bag, dumping the medicine into it. He also found a piece of gauze and wrapped it around his neck until it ran out. Not exactly a good medical fix, but a quick one.

Outside, the air was chilled, as though it was responding to the terrible evil it had witnessed. The nurse's cart was stalled, things strewn everywhere, but no sign of Betty.

"Betty?" He called frantically, as loud as he could manage, "Betty! Elizabeth!"

As the light spilled onto the floor, what was left from the dusk setting outside, Sweet Pea saw a pair of footsteps and dragged feet. Fear clenched him.

At least it seemed like they didn't kill her outright, that was good, right? No corpse anywhere. No Elizabeth-like walker wandering the halls.

He had a moment of panic, something that filled him so completely. The idea of Betty as a walker. God, he didn't think he could kill it. If she was one...he might just let it get him.

He knew he'd be weak in front of it.

As far as he could tell, though, that hadn't happened. Not here, at least.

But there was no sign of a scuffle. This was worse.

He ran outside, flinging open the doors. Their car was still parked, but there, right at the side of the building. He touched the tire marks of a car that had recently squealed out of the parking lot.

He had to assume that someone had taken her. He tried to follow the trail but soon realized that they had a good head-start and he would never be able to figure it out like this. The options of where they could have gone were endless.

Furious, he stormed back inside.

Just as he was about to open the door, he realized Betty would bring back his ass from the other side if he rescued her, but never gave himself the vaccination. With trembling hands, he read the right dosage and gave himself the two shots. It was hard. The bottle was tiny, he was shaking all over and his fingers were coated with sweat and blood. He was also near crying, not just from pain but from the anguish of possibly losing Betty. The idea of her being gone forever was unbearable.

Then, he bandaged his leg wound. It wasn't deep but would need a stitch or two, but he bandaged it just right then. He didn't do any other care. His neck seemed to be holding up so far. It would leave a scar, but it wasn't bleeding any more. Most of the blood had coagulated. Yay for biology?

He knew he must look terrifying, with blood dumped down his front and bruises starting to form everywhere. He found a bottle of water and gingerly drank it all. His throat smarted like a bad cold but held up. He had the idea that he really should keep it wrapped up, to avoid infections from outside. Yep, that sounded bad.

He rapped on the front of the cabinet. Thank god he hadn't killed him.

"Hey fucker, you still alive?" He asked.

There was a weak moan from inside.

Sweet Pea shoved the cabinet back and undid the knots. He slammed the door open. The kid was wailing lowly, curled against the wall. Sweet Pea grabbed his shirt, yanking him up.

"Tell me where they went."

"Where...who-,"

"Don't play dumb," Sweet Pea shook him, "The rest of your group. The group that took my wife." He wasn't sure what possessed him to say it, but it sounded right.

The kid gave an evil smile, his teeth coated red, "Oh, her? Pretty blonde thing?" He asked.

"You didn't kill her, did you?" Sweet Pea demanded, hauling him outside, "Answer me, dipshit!"

When it seemed he wasn't going to comply, Sweet Pea pressed the gun to his temple. He wasn't afraid about the kid taking the scalpel out and wounding him with it again. First, he was far too weak. Second, he'd be likely to bleed out way sooner if he did that.

"No! No!" The kid said, flinching away from the threat of the bullet, "Men, like you, are useless. Women are a commodity."

"Commodity?" Sweet Pea echoed, "You're comparing women to...to...fucking food or Xboxes or iPods?"

"Girls as pretty and as young as she is are rare, you know," The kid said, narrowing his one good eye, "No reason to let that go to waste."

Sweet Pea resisted the urge to kill him right then and there.

He fucking needed him.

Oh, how he wished he didn't.

"You'll take me to them," Sweet Pea demanded.

"Ha. Fat chance."

"You take me there and I won't kill you." Sweet Pea said.

The boy caught his gaze, smirking, "I'm dead anyway," He said, pointing at his swollen eye, "Obviously."

"You take me there and I save your sorry excuse for a life," Sweet Pea said, "Because while I'm shit at medicine, my wife isn't. And we'll make sure you live to see another day, even if you hardly deserve it."

"Look," The kid spit, "We all become different people in this post-apocalyptic world, yeah? I bet you've done things your former self would hate. It's all relative though."

"Killing other humans and stealing girls isn't 'relative'," Sweet Pea snarled, "And you're really making me not want to save you."

"But you need me," The kid realized, and began laughing hard, "You need me and you know it."

"I'll never stop looking for her, that's a promise. And I will fucking burn your hideout down when I do. You can either die now, or you can help me and live until tomorrow. Your choice."

"How do I know you'll actually do what you say?" The boy asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm not a garbage human being like you are," Sweet Pea muttered, "And you don't. You'll have to trust me."

The boy bared his teeth, but the thought of survival was too tantalizing. Sweet Pea grabbed the ropes.

"I'm going to put these on you. You make any sudden moves, and I mean any and I will rip that out of your eye and stab you right in the knee." Sweet Pea said as he tied the kid's hands tightly. The Serpents had given him a rough upbringing, one that was coming in handy in this fucked-up world. Not just to survive walkers, but also about how to get what he wanted out of people. While this kid may have turned into a worse human after the end of the world, Sweet Pea's skeletons lay in his past. He'd turned into a fairly respectable person since he'd started with Betty, someone that made him proud. He hated that he had to pull out these tactics again. He hated that he let Betty get taken. He hated everything about this day. The knife wound, rabies, and the neck cut weren't really making it more fun.

He dragged the kid to the van. He wasn't going to give him the niceties of sitting in front. He put him in the back on a sheet, bound his feet. He made sure he could see the road for directions.

He got in the front seat and adjusted it from where Betty usually sat. Even just sitting here made him feel sad and angry and furious. He brushed his hands over the handle.

"I'm coming for you, Betts," He mumbled, "I promise."

He turned back to the kid.

"I don't really care what your name is. I'd rather not know. I'm gonna call you Nick. There was a Nick I knew before I fucking hated. Hope he's long dead now." He said, thinking of Nick St. Clair and the stories of him. Sure, this kid didn't look like Nick, but the name would do, "So, Nick, tell me. And remember, your life is on the line here. Left or right?"

XXxxXX

Betty came too, jolted awake by a rough shaking and a bump that sent her near flying. Her arms, tied above, her, yanked her back as she felt her head swim with fog. Bile rose in her throat as she was swished back and forth and she tried to make sense of what was going on.

She was in the back of a van, not dissimilar to the one her and Sweet Pea used. Though, this one was markedly different. Most noticeably, a bench had been installed along both sides. Clanking and making a ruckus was a set of handcuffs and chains attached to the wall. Betty's eyes scanned the sides as she swallowed back down her vomit.

Six on each side; twelve spaces. Currently, counting herself, eight filled. And, all of them clasping dirty looking girls at that. Most of the girls were solemn or quiet, whimpering to themselves, cheeks streaked with tears. Directly across from Betty was a girl that looked hardly over fourteen, still wearing a unicorn t-shirt and blubbering incoherently.

Betty tested the strength of the handcuffs.

"You can try all you want, darlin'," A voice startled her, "But it's no use."

Betty swung her head around to the front of the van, where, at the head of the empty space, sat a boy wearing military-esque gear, settled with an automatic rifle in his lap. He was grinning at Betty, as though her minute struggles were entertaining to him.

"Fuck you," Betty spat at him, straining as far as she could.

The boy slapped the wall behind him, "Hear that, Dean? This one has a mouth on her."

There was raucous laughter from the driver's seat and shotgun. A face peered back through a grimy window, catching Betty's eyes.

"I thought she might be trouble," Dean, or so she assumed, replied, "Ah, well, we know how to handle the mouthy ones right well enough."

Betty was whirling. She knew she had a bobby pin in her boot, and she knew that it was still there, as she could feel it digging slightly into her heel. She knew if she got the chance, she could unhook herself. She could also break her wrist and slip her hand free, but that was extreme and she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Where's the truck with boys?" Betty asked in a low, growled tone.

"Truck with boys?" The kid, likely college or just about out, snorted, "You're asking about that tall one that was with you in the hospital, huh? He your boyfriend?"

"Where is he?" Betty demanded, her mind running a thousand simulations and possibilities of how she could get out of here.

"Dead, most likely," The kid with the gun replied, a sick grin on his face, "Boys don't have any usefulness. Not like girls."

One of the girls across the way gave a shuddering sob.

Betty was not going to let them see her break down.

"If you're not sure, he's probably alive then," Betty said simply.

"You'd like to think so, eh? Haven't you figured out? This life is full of disappointment."

Betty tongued the inside of her cheek, raising a cool eyebrow at him. Inside, her heart was pounding like a jackrabbit, though she was not going to let this crack open, not going to let these monsters see her vulnerable. It was imperative now, more than ever, she pulled forth everything her fucked up childhood had given her.

"You'd better hope he's alive," Betty said sweetly, batting her eyes.

"Oh, why's that? You think he's gonna come and rescue you?" He asked, breaking up into a fit of laughter. Betty let him have his amusement, just for a second.

"Did, by chance, hear about a serial killer in the East? The Black Hood?" Betty asked, tilting her head and staring him down. On his jacket, she caught 'J-A-C-K', "Jack?"

"Well, aren't you smart," Jack said, which was pretty much a confirmation, "And sure. Who didn't hear about that dude? It was all over the news for months."

"Hmm. Well, the Black Hood was my father," Betty said, her voice deadly, "And between me and my sister, I'm the one who inherited his...skills. I've seen more horrors than your pathetic brain could even imagine. And my old man? He killed out of rage, though he didn't particularly hate the specific people, just the idea of them. But if I find you that you actually succeeded in killing Jordan, I will hate you, more than I already do. So, imagine how awful your death will be."

Jack swallowed, a flash of uncertainty on his face, though only for a second. He got up, storming down the aisle, pressing the gun underneath her chin.

"Gunna flinch?"

"Will you?" Betty asked. He held her gaze, shaking his head.

"I call BS," He said, "On all of it. Girls that act tough never turn out to be."

"You clearly haven't dealt with someone like me then, yet," Betty said, "I'll ruin you."

"Shut your trap, or I'll shut it for you," Jack said, pressing Betty's head back. She bit down on her lip, deciding that she didn't want to push too far.

Jack stalked back to his seat, gun pointed ominously facing the girls and popped in a pair of Airbuds. His eyes never stopped roaming, but the next part of travel was deadly silent.

Betty tried to keep track of how long it had been, but it was fairly useless. In this van, it was hard to even count minutes. Plus, she was still reeling from being knocked out and it was messing with her mind.

It seemed like forever by the time they stopped, the car still on. The sky outside was just starting to turn dark, meaning they couldn't have been driving for more than five hours. They were in a heavy wooded area, or so Betty could see when the door was opened for them.

"Be careful with this one," Jack said, pointing to Betty as a new group of men-all around the same age- jumped into the truck, "She's gonna be trouble."

The guards unlocked the girls closest to the door first. One went screaming and kicking, the other was seemingly resigned to her fate. As they exited the van, there was a hissing sound.

"Psst! You!" Betty broke her unbroken staring contest at the back of Jacks' head, imagining driving her knife into his heart, to look at a doe-eyed girl, "Yeah! Is it true? Is your dad really the Black Hood?"

Betty winced, "Quite unfortunately. Not sure where he's now, or if he's alive." She said.

"You'd better close your lips if you know what's good for you," Another girl said, shaking her head in horror at Betty, "You're going to get us all killed!" She had dark skin and piercing amber eyes. Betty had already begun to associate the first girl with a certain Disney deer, so it was easy for her to assign a momentary nickname for this girl too.

"I've been told that I often don't," Betty chuckled, having no such intention on becoming quiet and complacent, "So…"

"Don't you know who these guys are?" Bambi whimpered, cowering. Betty laughed.

"Should I?"

"They're called The Predators. I heard it was a group of frat boys from the University of Minnesota who basically went mad after the world ended. They're vile," Nala sucked in tears, "And you'll wish you were dead. They realized that they don't have to do much of anything if they have brute force on their side."

"And the whole girl thing?" Betty asked though she had a sinking feeling where this was going.

"T...t...trading chattel," Bambi squeaked out.

"Great. A human trafficking ring." Betty grumbled, "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"You seem oddly unafraid," A third girl said, with long white hair. Elsa. Or Olaf. She did have an unfortunate nose.

"I've seen much worse," Betty said honestly, "This hardly hits the top five worst times I've had." She leaned back, knowing that sometimes biding one's time was the best skill a smart person had, "We're all going to get out, I promise you that."

Big oof, right y'all?

We're in for some more actiony things for a bit.

With the whole Sweet Pea surviving a slit throat...they did it in the 100, and we're in a world where zombies run around, so just bear with me and suspend disbelief on that if you're going 'uhhh, I don't think that he'd be alive'. We're also assuming that Hardly-Legal was very shitty at killing at that moment and pretty freaked out in general.

I also hope the fight scene seemed satisfying. I always have the hardest time describing combat things.

I was going to have the Predators be a bit older originally, tbh. Then, I was watching Daybreak on Netflix and I realized there was something inherently terrifying about a group of basically kids fucking things up. Like going all Lord of the Flies. Then I thought of something even worse...a group of college boys with no morals following, basically, a sociopath. Yikes, ya'll. Betty's not in a good place right now.