Wallace wasn't taking no for an answer. Ace needed to see the inside of an ER, bad. The gambling at Uh Oh's had gotten out of hand, and he was just thankful that it at least meant he wasn't too drunk to drive them to the hospital. Whatever buzz he had, Wallace had been completely sobered by witnessing Ace get his ass handed to him.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd actually do it," Wallace admitted, risking his mental sanity by looking over at Ace, seeing blood oozing from every orifice on his face. Despite the pain, Ace looked right back at Wallace and smiled, showcasing his blood stained teeth- and also the giant gap where his front tooth had been for years before being uprooted by none other than Mika James, a well seasoned MMA Fighter who was crowned champion that night. After her match, she miraculously ended up having a victory beer at the same bar as them, thus the gambling ensued. He was probably the world's biggest fool for accepting the bet to last five minutes in a brawl with her, but he was a winning fool, not a losing one. That's all that really mattered to him.

"And I'd say you must not know me, Wallace," Ace responded with a dry chuckle before wincing and nursing his sore ribs. There definitely was a broken one somewhere beneath his bruised skin. "I can take a good beating as is, but if it's a bet, I say it's a promise."

Wallace nodded in agreement, but then shook his head. "I mean your gator tooth. I didn't think you'd risk losing it on a bet."

Ace grinned to himself, reaching with his trembling fingers to pinch the alligator tooth which was hung around his neck. He felt the sharpness of the tip and the smoothness of its sides, remembering Wallace's smug face as he sealed the stakes of the bet. No one had ever bet on his gator tooth, but Wallace knew how serious Ace was about the charm. Assumedly, Wallace was just trying to bust Ace's balls. But as they drove through the night, it was clear that Wallace was proven terribly wrong by him.

"It has a mind of its own. I don't think it could risk being away from me. It got me through that fight."

"God got you through that fight," Wallace laughed. "Or the Devil, in your case."

"Pfft," Ace said. "It's the tooth, I'm telling you. It has gotten me through everything and it will continue to do so, my friend."

"When did you get that thing? I feel like you were damn near born with it," Wallace asked with a hearty laugh while merging onto the highway.

Ace couldn't help but to smile as he recalled the memories from way back. "I was probably ten, eleven. My cousins took a trip to Miami and brought me with them. When we were on our way to the motel we stopped at this gas station. And there was this lady out front… She just had this way about her."

"Let me guess, she's now your ex-wife," Wallace interjected.

Ace went to throw up his arms but the soreness cut his actions short. Instead he lobbed his head to the side while groaning. "I was just a kid you bastard- She was much older-"

"Like that has ever meant something to you."

"Agh! Okay okay, but that is not the case with this woman. Voodoo? Is that what you call it, I cannot remember. But she was like that, like a magic woman. She had all these skirts and fabrics around her waist. It was, ah, ethereal. And I was captivated by her as I got out of the car. I was going to walk right past her but she stopped me with her eyes. I don't know how or why, but I was there then, face to face with her. Now, I didn't speak a lick of English at this time, but that didn't matter."

Ace took a deep breath, watching as Wallace veered and took an exit off the highway, where then the bright lights of the hospital could be seen in the distance.

"She leant down and opened her hand. In it was this necklace, my alligator tooth. And she said, 'I had a vision that I'd come across a little boy like you. And in that vision I saw some bad things, really bad things. Take this, and you can bend the will of fate in your favor.'"

Wallace glanced at Ace with narrow eyes. "That's a crock of shit, isn't it?"

Ace shook his head. "It's all true. I promise. I remember it so clearly because that was the moment where everything started working, like the puzzle pieces of my life always fit perfectly."

"I don't know about that, I mean look at you right now," Wallace muttered. Ace shrugged.

"It's all about what attitude you have. Perspective. Perspective is key. Because yes, I got my ass kicked, but I still won and I still have my tooth. Well- My gator tooth, that is," He said while laughing optimistically, hospital lights reflecting off the windshield of the car as they parked.

They both smiled as they got out.

Ace absentmindedly gripped his alligator tooth.

He watched in subtle horror as Meg and Dwight were forced to participate in a grim dance with death, viewing the whole scene from far up on the steamboat's upper deck. He stiffly leaned over the railing and frowned deeply, seeing blood drenching Dwight's chest and Meg scream in fright as she wrestled with the mud. And that thing. Whatever monstrous thing that was… it sent a chill down his spine.

"So are you just gonna like… stand there?" Nea said from behind him as she worked on a generator, seeming to be blocking out all the chaos down below. Ace turned his body toward her, though his head stayed craned to watch what was happening with the others. His eyes followed Dwight, who began running to a far corner where those shoddy walls were. Meanwhile Meg took off in the opposite direction, going for the docks.

When both were out of sight, Ace gulped and returned to Nea.

"Your friends, they were attacked," He told her as he kneeled in front of the generator, watching a mess of wires come into view. Then he sighed, putting his hands up slightly, "Do I look like an electrician to you, princesa?"

"One: If you call me that again, I will slap you so hard it'll be knocked from your vocabulary. Two: Do I look like an electrician? Or someone who would know how to operate one of these things at all?"

Before Ace could answer, Nea snapped again. "Right! Didn't think so! I don't understand you guys. Your generation is always dogging on ours for being lazy and shit. Out of the people I've seen here, you by far are the most useless."

Nea's stomach burned with fire when she heard him laugh, as if none of it had phased him.

"You remind me of someone," He said, changing the subject.

She rolled her eyes. "Here we go."

"Mika James."

Nea paused and looked at him. "I mean, that's a compliment in my book."

He nodded. "Yes of course, that is how I meant it. You know who she is?"

"Yeah, I went through an MMA phase. I wanted to compete but shit didn't work out. Anyway, Mika was always my favorite. She's a badass."

"I know Mika personally," Ace admitted with a boastful grin. He reached his hands toward the wires, messing with them to make it look like he was working and knew what he was doing.

"Bullshit," Nea quipped. Ace smiled even more.

"It's not. I promise. I was there for her championship in Houston."

"Seriously?" She asked, to which he nodded boastfully.

"Yes, yes. She ended up at the same bar as me afterward. My friend offered a big bet. A really big one. Of course I took it without hesitation."

"Well, what was the bet?"

"Five minutes in a fight with Mika. Not a second less. I needed to last a whole five minutes with that tiger of a woman," He explained with dramatic pauses here and there.

Nea's brows rose with doubt. "I'm guessing you were out cold in ten seconds."

Ace didn't say anything, just smiled as he continued to uselessly fondle the wires. Eventually, the anticipation got to Nea.

"Well? Did you?"

He glanced at her. "Let's just say I won the bet."

"C'mon, you're just lying now. I bet none of this actually happened," Nea said but her suspicion didn't show. In fact, he could tell she was buying the whole story but just didn't want to acknowledge his victory.

"It did happen. I was in bad shape by the end, I barely touched a hair on her head. But all that mattered was the five minutes. I was all but a corpse by the time I got to the hospital," He told her while wheezing with laughter. "All the nurses were shocked when I didn't report that I was a victim of some crime. And then they were even more shocked to hear I had gone through all of it willingly."

There was an edge of respect laced in Nea's dagger stare. The side of her mouth twitched upwards, a tiny detail that wasn't lost on Ace. He was always keen on the slightest ticks. It could always tell one what they needed to know in a game of cards.

"You're annoying as Hell, but that's pretty cool," She told him honestly. There it was. Being the golden raconteur he was, Ace always could whip enemies into friends on a dime.

Before either could say anything else on the matter of Mika James and his underdog tale, the generator reached its long awaited completion considering Nea was the only one inputting any repairs. Despite that, Ace stood up and stretched before placing his hands on his hips.

"I think I got the hang of it," He told her as he watched her stand.

"Whatever you say," She responded uninterestedly.

From the other side of the deck came a withered voice, "Guys…"

Ace and Nea turned, seeing Dwight finish ascending a flight of steps at the end of the deck. His breathing was hoarse, a stiff and red drenched hand held tightly against his chest where a fountain of blood wept.

Nea quickly made her way over to him. They met in the middle, right by the helm of the steamboat which was enclosed in the pilothouse.

From back at the generator, Ace watched them interact. He leaned against the railing, not knowing what to do nor how to help Dwight, since they didn't have any medical supplies. Ace was just going with the flow of everyone else's commands. At that moment, it didn't seem like Nea was concerned with his help.

He couldn't lie, he still had not a single clue as to what was going on. When Dwight had been rambling about this and that by the fire, it had gone in one ear and out the other with Ace. He was so convinced that they were crazy in one way or another that he didn't bother indulging in any of the information Dwight had explained. It probably would've come in handy, that way Ace would be somewhat prepared with knowledge. But what can one do? He figured that he would get through it, just the same as he did with everything else in his chaotic life.

As he stood there observing Dwight and Nea, Ace felt a subtle vibration trickle up the wooden railing and ripple through it. His brows lowered as he peered to the side curiously, eyes combing over the edge for anything. Nothing was down there from what he could see.

But then there was another small vibration. Then another, and another, each successive one getting stronger and stronger. His heart began beating in time with it, picking up pace.

He stood straight up when he heard the squeal of a wooden plank come from below, right at the base of the stairs that were beside him. That time when he looked over, he saw it. The monster had found them.

"Friends…" He said smoothly but cautiously, getting the attention of Nea and Dwight. It was too late, however. The lithe figure bounded up the stairs in fast strides and was directly in front of them in a flash. With its wickedly long talons, the thing swiped at Nea but missed as Dwight pulled on her elbow. They stumbled up the deck together, engaged in a frantic chase with the monster.

Ace watched as it followed them down the opposite staircase where a flurry of footsteps could be heard echoing from down below on the lower deck. Then he heard Nea and Dwight surfing through the tall grass outside the steamboat. Like ants tunneling through dirt, they ran far and fast as they were pursued ruthlessly.

Left alone on the ship, Ace awkwardly looked around incredulously. He didn't move for a few minutes, simply trying to process what he'd just witnessed. That pit in his gut was widening. He could feel a intense dread spread throughout, almost making him feel sick to the stomach as he pondered how exactly he was going to make it out of this one.

The first place to start was to not waste any time. So Ace took a deep breath in, out, then headed for the helm. When he walked through the door, he noticed a chest on the ground right beside him. Normally he would assume there'd only be junk located inside, but Ace determined that it was worth looking in for the sake of either finding a weapon or some other useful resources.

He flipped open the latch and heaved the lid up. The contents didn't look promising, at first. Nautical devices, tools and scraps- otherwise useless mierda. But he wasn't giving up. He rummaged around the chest where he then grabbed onto something. With a few yanks, he discovered that it was a medkit. Once opening it, Ace was delighted to find that it was full to the brim with supplies. If only Nea and Dwight had known all of this was right beside them.

With nothing else to retrieve from the chest, Ace headed out of the steamboat. The generators seemed to be where the gold was, so his goal would be to locate one and somehow figure out how to get it going.

One hand holding the medkit, the other toying with his lucky gator tooth, Ace wandered in the unknown with a confident pep in his step.

Meg just finished her generator when she caught sight of the shack, which was barely in view from her position. But she knew that rooftop without fail, even with only seeing the slightest bit of it through the trees. Trudging slowly and cautiously through the mud, she took her time getting there. Her eyes relentlessly scoured the ground for any symbols. The tension in her body was agonizing. It felt like any moment she could step on or near one of those things, thus summoning the monster.

Reaching the halfway point to the shack, Meg couldn't help but to halt her short journey, taking notice of something nearby… something glowing…?

She blinked a few times, assuring herself that it wasn't some sort of fabrication. When it didn't fade away, she quietly moved closer, still minding her step.

Close enough to gauge what she was looking at, Meg realized it was that skull thing that she'd discovered in the last trial with the Nurse. It was a totem of some sort, at least that was the only word that came to her mind to describe such a thing. Except this time there was a flame lit beneath it.

As she got closer and closer, Meg started to feel a darkness permeating from it. There suddenly was dread, disdain and nausea coursing through her rather inexplicably. Tied to the totem were all sorts of negative emotions, like a cloud of blackness hung just overhead. She was so overwhelmed in being within its vicinity that she debated just fleeing from it. But another part of her was too involved in their ultimate goal to escape. They needed to understand everything. As much as she was scared by it, repulsed even, she needed to investigate it further.

Knowing all too well that it was a terrible idea, Meg stepped forward, foot right in front of the totem, and reached her index finger out. She leaned in as her heart pounded, pleading for her not to do it, but her mind was set.

As her finger made contact with the crown of one of the skulls, a sinister bolt of lightning fractured through her. She reeled her arm back and stepped away. There was something so vile about it. She couldn't comprehend how or why she knew it, but the feelings in her gut weren't good.

Without even really thinking about it, Meg stomped on the totem, uncaring of the way the hot flames tickled her foot through the sole of her sneaker. She did it again and again until the flame was extinguished and there was nothing left of the skulls other than a pile of broken bone fragments.

Just like that, the heaviness seemed to slip away. She breathed in, feeling as if the air itself was cleaner now that the totem was destroyed.

"Hola, my friend!"

Meg whipped around, seeing Ace standing right behind her. "Fuck me."

He laughed heartily in her face, then peered around her to the demolished totem. "What's that?"

She sighed. "I don't know… Do you know where the others are?"

"They were getting chased by that thing, last I saw. Me and that girl did one of those generators on the big steamboat over there," He informed her while pointing in the direction of the boat.

There was an awkwardness between them. Ace was the first person she'd encountered in their situation whom she didn't exactly gel with. It was somewhat off putting how well he'd maintained a humorous disposition.

"I see you got a medkit," She commented. He held it up to view.

"Yes, yes. Lot's of goods inside. Here," He gave it to her. "I'm no doctor."

Meg nodded curtly, taking it by the handle. She started turning toward the shack, looking at him from over her shoulder. "Let's find a gen."

They began walking to the building. Right before they could enter it, a shout echoed nearby which was followed by the quick entrance of thunderous footfalls.

Bursting from the foliage was Dwight, huffing and puffing as he hauled ass for the shack. She could see that he was aiming for the window, so Meg hurried inside to meet him there. Her feet pounded against the plank floor, standing there for only a second before seeing Dwight barrel through the window. He rolled right into the generator inside, slamming his back hard against the metal.

Meg scrambled over to him and placed her hands around his shoulders. "Are you okay? Is it after you?"

"I don't know," He panted.

Ace's shout alerted them. Meg and Dwight whipped their heads toward the door that Meg had come from. Ace stood perfectly in the center of the portrait that the doorway made, but then the thing entered the frame as well.

It slashed madly at him and then Ace fell out of view, assumedly running away. They watched the monster chase him out of sight.

As silence seeped into the air, the two looked at each other, where then Meg finally was able to address the gnarly wound across Dwight's chest.

His shirt looked like cut-out art. After all the injuries he'd taken, there was hardly anything left of the short sleeved button up that Meg recalled from their first meeting. Two parallel tears ran right through the front of the fabric, which was pasted to his skin from all the blood that had oozed from it.

"Look, Ace found a medkit. Do you want me to patch you up?" Meg said calmly while he caught his breath from all the running he'd done.

"No, it's-" He started to say as he sat up, but then a searing pain sizzled across his chest, emanating from the gruesome tears in his flesh. "Okay- Just do it."

She kneeled in front of him with the medkit perched on top of her thigh. When Meg opened it, there could've been golden rays of light coming from within with an angelic chorus harmonizing in the background. She'd never seen a medkit so packed before, it was like the kits in the real world, not whatever stingy ones they were given in the trials.

"Holy shit," She said quietly, then grabbed a few of its contents and held them up for him to see. "You can have your pick. Syringe, powder, stitches, gauze…"

"Let's just do the powder, I don't want to waste the syringe. We should save that for something important."

She nodded wordlessly and threw all the supplies back in the medkit, save for the powder, which she unscrewed. The corner of her mouth pulled awkwardly.

"I think you should take off your shirt."

Dwight begrudgingly looked at her, discomfort written all over his features. Not because she had asked, but because he was never satisfied with the way his body looked. And now he had all these confusing feelings revolving around Meg and was mercilessly self conscious but he also had these two giant slices in his chest that needed tended to otherwise being injured could cost him his life- God, he was overwhelmed.

With the pros outweighing the cons, he began unbuttoning whatever was left of his shirt. He could hear his dad's voice in the back of his head, telling him to man up and get over it. He just couldn't help those nagging thoughts all throughout his life. The ones that cut him up. The ones that made him feel like he was gross and ugly. But he supposed that, for now, they could be bottled up and unleashed at a different time where he wasn't dealing with whatever variation of Hell he was trapped in.

A sliver of warmth melted through him when Meg's facial expression didn't change at all in seeing his bare chest. She seemed concentrated on helping him, not concerned in the slightest with what he looked like beneath the clothes. Maybe she would've in the real world. He tried not to think about it.

Her fingers lightly rested on the swollen skin on the perimeter of the scratches. Carefully, she sprinkled in the white powder. Relief followed quickly as she doused every bloody crevice with it. Before he knew it, she was done and capping the powder, tossing it back in the medkit.

Well, that wasn't that bad.

"Feeling better?" She asked him. He nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, yes."

They stood together before assessing the dormant generator in front of them. The usual grind awaits.

He was running on fumes almost instantly. Ace was no Spring chicken. Even in his good ol' days, he wasn't an athletic superstar. But at sixty-two years old, he was impossibly far from the hopes of ever becoming one.

It was down to luck and guts to get him through alive.

As he peered over his shoulder, he saw its grotesque body and twiggy limbs swinging through the marsh, hot on his tail. Its starkly thin image reminded Ace of someone from long ago, back when he was a kid running free on the streets. There had been an old woman who always sat on her front steps, just watching the people walk by her all day long. She always wore a scowl, likely from just being miserable at her age. Because of how old she was, her limbs were frail and fragile looking, which was especially apparent when she'd wear dresses in the summertime. Well, as is the typical song and dance with bastardly teenage boys, she was given a demeaning nickname:

The Hag.

Ace always felt bad for her. She never did anything to really deserve the name. So he would bring her sweets and get her groceries for her, and in turn she would fix up his clothes or make him dinner every now and then.

In that moment, in memory of his dear old lady, he decided that the monster chasing him better deserved the disdainful nickname.

As if it could read his thoughts and knew he was branding it as such, the Hag spewed ravenous hisses and gurgles which ruptured from its wicked mouth. It made Ace feel like he was a chunk of meat dangling over an alligator pit. It was only a matter of time before he was chomped up.

The flask in his breast pocket thumped against his chest incessantly. It was beginning to aggravate him, being too much of a distraction. So as he ran, he pulled it out and dumped the last bit of whisky down his gullet and then launched the empty container behind him.

Despite the fear, he laughed out loud when he heard it smack into the Hag, confirmed to him by a metallic clang and the Hag's subsequent phlegmy cry.

Up ahead he saw that the docks were the only saving grace in sight. He flew up to an opening in the underside. Beneath the veil of shadows, he allowed himself a single second to discern what his next move was. There was an open window to his left, and then a ramp leading up to his right. Without considering his options well, he chose the ramp merely for the sake of not having to vault over something. His knees were pretty stiff as of late.

He could hear the Hag's feet slap in the mud right behind him as his own pounded against the wooden planks leading up. When he got to the top, he banged a right and ran up the docks only to realize there wasn't much length left of it. He needed to think quickly.

On the edge of the docks were various crates. He noticed that one of them had a fishing net spilling out of it. Ace had done his share of fishing (especially betting on it) but he never worked with a net before. But he was sure that if it could withstand the weight of tons of fish, it could withstand the weight of Ace Visconti. That meant… he had a plan.

One last glance over his shoulder told Ace that it was now or never. If his plan failed then he was toast because the Hag was breathing down his neck.

He sprinted over to the crate with a shimmering hope and prayer present in his mind. In one, not so graceful, motion, Ace leapt off the docks just enough to make it appear he was jumping off, only to latch desperately onto the net hanging from the crate. His arms would've cried out if they could. The front of his body slammed into the crates as he miraculously was able to suspend himself by the net, hanging on for dear life.

When he heard the Hag smack into the mud down below, he let out a victorious yet disgruntled chuckle. In his peripheral vision, he could see the Hag staring up at him, the maliciousness in its sneering face being far too noticeable.

"Pelotudo!" He shouted at it. As soon as the insult fell from his lips, he felt his body start to glide away from the crate. Ace looked up, seeing that his weight was tipping it over and over until-

WHAM!

He smacked against the ground, having fallen about ten feet down and into the muddy earth below. The crate cracked right beside him as it slammed into the ground, taking on a trapezoidal shape as the fishing net slopped into the wet soil.

Deliriously laid out on his back, Ace's blurry eyes could only see the moonlit sky for a moment before a sinister shadow obscured his vision. His heart sank. The Hag, standing right above him with its leering face, seemed to revel in its comeback. It allowed a few seconds to rub in Ace's defeat. Then it raised its menacing hand, each joint in its lethal claws cracking, the tune of death, if you will.

He met his match. It was about time, after all those years.

It raised its hand, preparing a strike when-

Ace squinted as a beam of light was suddenly flashing over the Hag's face, penetrating its eyes. The swamp monster staggered backward, trying to use its thin arm as a shield but there was hardly enough to block the light.

Given the chance, Ace shot up and started running away, catching sight of Nea standing up on the docks with a flashlight, still devouring the Hag's face with the intense beam. Her head tracked him as he ran, the two sharing a look that exchanged Ace's gratitude. Much to his shock, he was pretty sure he spotted a grin on her face.

He looked forward, heading for a little boat in front of him while clutching his gator tooth in his muddy hand.

You did it again, my friend.