(Luke’s thoughts) I guess we have nothing but ourselves to blame…

Harold looked towards the three men with their lips puckered up inside of their mouths as they remained still. His entire body was on the very edge of exploding, Harold began to spread his legs a couple of inches away from each other. His bare feet gripped the metal as his legs prepared a crouching stance..

He kicked off the van as he lunged his body forward to Luke, his eyes twitching as he extended his arms to his sides. .

(Harold) I’M STARTING WITH YOU!!

Throwing his right fist at Luke, Luke activated his blessing, enabling him to automatically dodge to the right with no problem. His body moving with his gut, he slid away from the fist that was about to hit right at his right cheek.

(Miles) Stan, we got to back up Luke!

(Stan) On it!

Miles activated his blessing, blue particles emitting from both his arms as he extended his arms back the same way Harold did. With both of his wrists forming his shield, Miles’s forehead already started to form sweat.

For Stan, he pulled out a black baton that most police officers use. The front end of it was replaced by a high voltage taser, emitting electric sparks that caused Stan to lean his head back.

With the two men reaching towards the raging Harold, both were on the opposite ends of him. Luke, meanwhile, was gliding on the limited space he had on the van with his blessing unlocked.

(Harold) Come on! Bring it! BRING IT!!

In a rapid motion, Harold swiftly dodged both swings of Stan and Miles’ weapons. Seeing that Stan lacked experience in combat, Harold turned his attention towards him but kept his close eye on Miles who continued to try to land a lucky blow.

Grabbing the helm of Stan’s collar, Harold spun his body in a 180 twist, his eyes taking note of Luke who didn’t bother to even have a combat weapon.

(Harold) Special delivery! HELLO!! YOU HAVE A DELIVERY!!

Just as Harold was about to throw Stan towards the unguarded Luke, his grip on Stan’s collar being a lethal one as he kept his eye on Luke, the motion of the van that was always constantly decided to…

(Jack) Oh shit, I think that’s the exit. Hold on, dudes!

Swerve to the exit. The wheels of the van screeched as Jack jerked the steering wheel to his right.

(Miles) Oh shit!

(Stan) Woah!

(Luke) Oh no!

Everyone’s feet that were clenched onto the roof managed to find themselves gliding across the roof of the van, the metal somewhat turning into a frictionless state.

Miles managed to fall as he managed to hold onto the van with the grip of his fingertips. He squeezed his eyes shut when his nails began bleeding.

Harold, who was about to throw Stan, found themselves off the edge of the van, their landing being the black pavement several feet below.

As for Luke, he managed to fall into the back of the van, his landing being back inside the interior of the van.

In slow motion, Stan watched the way Harold fell, his feet about to trickle the pavement as his toenails were edging the tips of the asphalt. For Stan, his hand reached towards the edge of the van, his palms reaching out as he focused his entire attention on stretching his arm to the very limit.

His hand managed to grip well on the sharp steering van, his body dangling onto the edge as he tried to find his way back up.

(Stan’s thoughts) Oh shit, how many close calls do I have?

His relief, however, turned into surprise when his right foot had something dangling that stopped him.Stan turned his head towards the lich that started to pull him down near the van’s tires, his strength still unmatched as he continued to twitch his eyes.

(Stan) Can’t you just give up already?! Is it an apology you want?!

(Harold) Shut up! If I’m being taken down, I’m taking you with me! YOU HEAR ME!!

Harold dug his fingernails into Stan’s meaty calves, his grip on Stan unwavering as he continued to contort his eyes with rage towards the brownish ginger-haired elf. Stan’s eyes were enclosed shut as the searing pain from the fingernails caused him to loosen his grip even more, his body on the verge of falling until…

The motion of the van's steering right ceased, causing the van to return to its normal driving state.

Miles, who held onto the van with his body, pushed himself up as he turned his head towards Stan, whose hand was on the verge of letting go.

(Miles) Oh shit! Stan!

(Stan’s thoughts) I don’t think I’m going to make it.

Just as Harold was about to pull Stan towards the asphalt, along with him…

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A sniper gunshot can be heard coming from the driver’s side of the van.

(Stan and Miles) What?

Everyone turned their heads and noticed a red-haired man hanging on the driver's side door wide open. His feet barely held on with his right hand wielding a sniper, followed by his left wrapping around the door.

(Harold) coughs coughs … I hate you all … I hate you all … I hate you all so much…

Tar poured onto the fastening asphalt as Harold put his hand onto where the bullet was located, rubbing the left area of his chest as he continued to cough.

Stan’s grip was taken to a helm as Miles grabbed Stan’s right hand with both of his hands, tightening it as he put his feet on the very edge of the van. Slowly pulling Stan out of the air, he turned his head towards where Harold was dangling, his eyes sharpening at the weakening lich.

Harold held a weakening grip on the outer edge, dangling in the high-speed air as both men looked between one another, glancing at the lich who continued to widen his eyes.

(Miles) What do we do with him, Stan?

(Stan) I don’t know … should we ask Luke?

(Miles) Yeah, but where is he?

As the two men looked around to try to find Luke, they noticed that the car was in motion despite Jack holding onto the driver’s door with his sniper. Looking into the driver’s side mirror, they found a light-haired young man with a side bang on his right eye, his left eye having a fiery red eye.

Seeing that Luke was in the driver’s seat, having his hands gripping the steering wheel, Miles put his hand to his chest.

(Miles) Oh, thank god. I thought Jack was dumb enough to let the vehicle go forward.

(Jack) What do you take me for? Some kind of idiot?

(Miles) A smart idiot.

(Jack) Whatever. What do we do with sir hates-women-a-lot?

Miles and Stan looked towards Jack, putting their hands underneath their chins as they felt the cool summer night breeze hitting their faces. Noticing that they were still on the highway despite taking the exit, Miles turned to where Luke was, seeing Luke’s face in the side view mirror as he yelled at him.

(Miles) Hey Luke. What exit did Jack take?

(Luke) He only took the junction to the main highway, the real exit that takes us to the tower is in a couple of minutes.

Nodding at Luke's words, all of them, even Luke, turned their attention to Harold, his body still dangling onto the edge. Seeing that Harold is having a hard time pushing himself up, as well as trying to keep himself from falling, all of them looked down onto the passing asphalt as they saw Harold in this state.

Harold widened his eyes at Miles, as Miles took a step back his eyes sharpened at the lich, his hands slowly curling themselves into fists as he looked at his pathetic face.

(The Coach in Miles’s thoughts) Be the best man you can be…

(Miles’s thoughts) How can I be a good man when the person in front of me is a psycho…?

Harold jumped forward towards the two men, his last push of attack as his hands extended outwards, his fingernails sprouting out like knives.

Thrusting both of his hands onto the unguarded men, Harold widened his eyes as his eyes returned to his tarshot black stance. Seeing that the two men jumped back from the sudden turn of events, Harold pushed up his face.

(Harold) I’LL GET THE LAST LAUGH!!

(Stan) No, you ain’t.

Stan pulled out a nylon rope edged in razor blades, wrapping it around Harold as soon as he was about to pounce. Despite leaping through the air, Harold was unable to land on the van as the force of his last push was too great even for himself.

In slow motion, the two men only saw as Harold lept right into the fast asphalt.

(Stan) Oh shit, I shouldn’t let him be grazed by the asphalt—

Unfortunately, as soon as Stan gripped the nylon rope firmly with both his hands, thrusting the rope against himself to pull Harold back to them…

An ear-piercing scream stabbed all of the men’s ears, causing everyone except for Stan to cover their ears as the pain thumped into their eardrums.

They heard the grazing sound of something being grated as if the flesh was being spit upon on a molecular level. Almost like the sound of a chainsaw failing to cut down wood because of the engine or chains being faulty, the hearing of skin and flesh falling off was enough to put their hands to their ears.

The van started to contort as one of the wheels, particularly one of the bottom right wheels started to shake and wobble. Almost losing control of the van, Luke placed his right leg onto the brake pedal, but couldn’t work as something was blocking the wheel…

Followed by the immense tightening of the nylon rope that Stan wielded in his hands, the rope being pulled towards where Harold was, which caused—

(Stan) Holy shit!

(Miles) Stan, get him out of there!

Harold was on top of the black paved asphalt as well as being grated by the van’s wheel at the same time.

His legs were being grated first by the wheels, his feet and calves being completely and utterly shredded as tar and bone were girded against the highway.

Soon after, his entire stomach and chest were being cheesed, slowly grinding the front side of his body. With his organs and lungs smearing a huge line of tar, it was as if his body was losing mass as his body seemed to be shredded by the tire and asphalt.

Hearing the hellish shriek of pain coming from Harold, the only thing that Miles and Stan did was look the other way, clenching their eyes shut from the shriek. Even Luke and Jack, who were the farthest from Harold’s demise, let out a frozen shiver from their upper to lower backs, their souls unguarded from the unholy way Harold was going out.

Luckily for them, the shrieking died down, the van stopping the rumbling from the back end of its right bottom tire.

______________________________________________________________________________

(Quintiles 29, 59 / 8:54PM)

(Luke) What have we done…

(Miles) I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.

(Stan’s thoughts) I killed him, didn’t I? If I let go of that nylon rope then he would’ve lived, but I tried to pull it towards me…

(Jack) I guess … we should just go towards the Zirardge building right now.

A few minutes after defeating, or rather killing Harold, Luke and the others safely went to their normal seats in the van, with Jack being the main driver and Miles being in passenger, followed by Luke and Stan in the back.

Not even bothering to stop and check the bottom right tire that grated Harold’s entire body, all of them looked forward with darkened faces, their faces coated with cold sweat. Jack, the driver of the van, turned his attention towards Miles, his eyes softening as he continued to grip the steering wheel tightly.

(Jack) Miles?

(Miles) Yeah?

(Jack) What would happen if we became liches??

Miles focused his attention on his hand in front of him, noticing bits of tar. Letting out a sigh, Miles looked towards Jack, whose eyes were on the verge of tears.

(Miles) We … we won’t… we’ll never—

(Stan) We’ll be killed…

From the back end of the van, Stan had his head down as he put his hands inside of his pockets, his eyes soulless as he moved his upper body back and forth. Exhaling an abundance of fresh air out of his lungs, Stan’s body started to shiver coldly, his eyes glued to the floor as he couldn’t nudge his head towards Miles.

His right pocket contained a lining edge of a rope, he squeezed it tightly, his fingertips clawing the nylon as if to imprint his DNA on it.

(Stan) We’ll be killed, just like that psycho incel… but it’ll be for the best.

(Miles) We have to become stronger. Make sure it doesn’t happen to us. But the thought of becoming a lich…I’d be terrified. What if I become like Harold? What if you guys…?

Miles’s throat started to tremble, his vocals holding the hellish words from coming out as put his hands down onto his thighs, his palms facing upwards. Looking down to see his palms shaking, his fingers on the verge of curling up to form fists, Miles’s breathing started to thin.

Jack, noticing Miles’s distraught nature, saw a high-rise building, a building pitched in all black with many tinted windows on the top floors of the building.

(Jack) Sorry to break your existential crises, but is that the Zirardge building? I know every building to me looks the same but it's the highest tower, right?

Everyone turned their attention towards the building that was the highest they saw, the orange night sky covering the entire night sky. Turning both his hands so that his palms were holding his thighs, Miles straightened his neck as he breathed in and out, his chest expanding more than usual.

(Miles) Yeah. Let’s just … let’s just help Gwen and Luna…