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Wyatt 'Wendigo' Graves

My teeth grind against each other as I stare up at the Vessel of the old man not far from me. According to Earl, he has multiple of these bodies, each working toward some goal he finds more important than the lives of the many.

His eyes are hollow, lifeless, and evoke some kind of callousness I didn't think was possible in the gaze of a human. Though, I suppose like that, he's not quite human anymore. I attempt to step forward, to near the three Angels that stride forward confidently, Tomas, Edward, and Lennon, but the pain deep within my core bites at me.

Using my flesh to siphon Ether from the air is both extraordinarily painful and exhausting. Neither Johnny nor I wanted me to do it, but after an hour of searching, we had no other choice. If we waited any longer, Myriad's group, which was attacking from the sewers, might have acquired too much heat from Eli.

And it seems we were too late anyway. From his words, Myriad must have been hit hard, possibly even taken out of action for the time being. I'm sure he'll be back soon, but probably not until the end of this battle.

"Should we retreat?"

A broadcasted Allude from Abraham reaches the multitude of us at once while Eli Weiss twists around and heads deep into that tunnel atop the stairs. His body quickly falls behind the railing, making it impossible to see him any longer.

I half expect someone to attack him as he leaves, but no one does. Instead, Johnny holsters his weapon, and Edward sheathes his blade. The organizer of this attack sighs, and looks out at the group gathered before him.

Seeing his expression, I stand tall, appearing strong as I force down the already fading pain from my Strugglers Gasp. My Ether saturation is already high, but it's quickly vanishing. Earl, the genius in every case, found a recipe from the Almanac from the Underworld that makes the human body expel Ether faster than usual.

He only had enough for two doses. Johnny forced me to take both. To him and Edward, I hold a unique position in our group. As he speaks, my mind flashes to his words from before, shortly before I focus on his meaning.

"Unlike most, your strength is directly correlated to how much Ether you can toss away. The more we give you access to, the closer you come to the strength of an Angel. And a fifth Angel in our team would make it viable to fight even Virtues. Now, I know you can only hold that strength for a few moments, but it is better than nothing."

"This is a decision we must all make together. Johnny, as I'm sure you all know, has met the Prime before. Vincent Harvey is preparing for his apotheosis, and while I hope he succeeds for the survival of humanity, some things are in question."

Edward pauses, stepping closer as everyone within the first two carriages that managed to enter the bunker first gather, listening to him speak.

"Weiss could be lying to us to buy time. We don't have any idea what Vincent truly needs for his Wasteland, but we can guess. I, however, doubt that it includes the life of one of his most loyal men. The Prime's Sigil is about decay, not usurpation or corruption. Yet... I think we may want to discuss withdrawal. I—"

A stern, unnegotiable tone interrupts Edward with a harsh shout. Turning, I find Kate staring up at the empty tunnel, her eyes still hidden behind her blindfold. Underneath, however, I know an artifact and an Ail hide, allowing her to see perfectly, if not better than most.

"You can't be serious! Eli Weiss is mad. The man has split his soul into fragments, allowing each to work independently without any control. He needs to be put down before he kills a man like Ed Summers!"

Her enthusiasm for the man's death is odd, and Earl quickly follows up, trying to explain how the Vessels work.

"His soul isn't split. He's put—"

Yet, Kate twists around, pointing a finger at Earl aggressively as she yells even louder.

"What do you know? Did he tell you how it worked, hmm? Why would he tell you the truth? You think yourself a genius, but he has you around his thumb. You use his tools like a fool, revolving as he wants you to."

Earl's head hangs slightly at her reasoning as it seems she strikes a nerve, and I stand up for him. The footfalls of boots behind us grow louder, but I don't care.

"You have an Ail inside your head, remember? You use the tools, too!"

Kate scoffs as she points at her eyes through her blindfold. The woman's tone quickly drops to a growl as she nearly threatens us.

"You know better than anyone, Wendigo. Our bodies are shared already. Nothing else can intrude on them. My risk is not a risk at all, unlike Earl's. And, whether you cowards want to come with me or not, I will save Ed Summers myself."

Again, I open my mouth to defend Earl, but a firm hand clamps itself around my shoulder. Instinctively, I fall quiet, knowing who it is. Johnny's assertive voice pushes us away from each other without any physical force.

"Relax. We don't need to fight amongst each other. Kate, you really shouldn't go off on your own. Weiss will tear you apart as you are now. If you were an Angel... maybe it'd be different, but—"

Again, Kate spouts outwardly at us, unwilling to wait for someone to finish speaking. What is her deal?

"Angel this, Angel that. Why is that all that matters? My eye has had its 7th Sigil longer than the three of you coots together."

In the corner of my eye, I notice Edward discussing something with Lennon and Tomas before Johnny reaches out to Kate. The gunslinger tries to show his sympathy for the woman, but she backsteps swiftly.

"Leave me alone. You all can sit here and twiddle your thumbs. I waited days. DAYS! And still, you all sit here like cowards. We will go ahead, with or without you. Contemplate your own morality after another legend dies within the same month as the last. There aren't many more to go before there are none left. Who's even left that holds any import? Maddox? Clarence? Even the Furious Mountain is unwilling to join our battle. What makes you think they will?"

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Kate pivots away from Johnny, but the man doesn't do anything to truly stop her despite having the ability as the woman sprints away, heading up the stairs and into the tunnel. She moves with an alacrity reminiscent of Virgil, but I'm worried for her safety.

Turning as she rounds the corner ahead, I discover Johnny holding his head in his right hand.

"Is she going to die?"

I can't help but ask the question, and Johnny nods.

"Probably. I'm starting to gauge out who exactly she is by those reactions. Though... maybe she's right. Too many great men and women have died recently. Perhaps we do what we can to save the last of them? There is a chance we ruin Vincent's rise to Godhood, but Wyatt?"

Johnny addresses me in particular despite the many of us surrounding him. I twist my head at him as he nods to the other present Angels.

"I think we'd all agree on one thing. If our meddling stopped Vincent from becoming a God, he doesn't deserve to become one. After all this time, he's done nothing for us. How about we save one of the few who has?"

Tomas and Edward smile at Johnny's words while Lennon's teeth show through a pointed grin. They are all in agreeance.

"So, then, do we follow her?"

Edward responds this time as he glances around and takes in the entirety of this massive chamber we find ourselves in.

"Yes. But not all. There are too many paths to go, and I'd wager the one ahead is a trap. Wyatt, Virgil, Earl, and I will go after Kate. Tomas, you take a few and go left. Johnny, you take a few and go right. Lennon... sniff out your challenge. Go wherever you feel you want to. I can't command you anyway."

Lennon's grin grows even wider as Edward admits he can't force Lennon to do anything, and the man growls out a response.

"Gladly. It seems I'll be coming with you, then. You've all given that little rabbit a fire under her feet. I can't wait to see where she stands a day from now. Not to mention... I want a rematch with the hidden Angel Eli has here. I sensed a familiar gaze, one reeking the stench of an Angel. Though... I don't believe she was one when I last met her."

Edward pats Lennon on the shoulder as the humanoid monster steps aside, his sheathed sword beckoning for release. He desires a good fight more than anything else to hone his strength, and after the past few months, I'd say he's right. The best way to grow is to have a challenge and a goal to reach. I do wonder something, though.

What is his goal?

Tomas rips me from my thoughts as he chooses his personal team for investigation. Plans rarely survive contact with the enemy, after all.

"Sounds fine by me. I'll take the left. Silas. Lennox. Skyswain. Rich. Primrose. That should be fine."

Johnny then nods in understanding as he points out his.

"Makes sense. Keep the ones you've fought near before, and leave me those only I can control. That means you're with me, Bonfire, and Abraham. You, too, Blake."

I notice Blake hop slightly in her step after being addressed by Johnny, and I even catch their shared smile. The motions of any kind of relationship are quickly dashed by seriousness, however. Edward leads the charge up the stairs and directs the arriving soldiers and men through Abraham toward everyone else connected, who leads them to split up and follow Johnny or Tomas. Edward even has Abraham pass on his message to his wife.

"My team will likely face the brunt of the action, so you all should comb the bunker with the other two groups. As for power, we should be fine. Lennox can cut through nearly anything, and with Earl, we should be fine against traps. Don't worry about me, hun. It's just another Hunt."

Edward's wife gives him a curse through Abraham's long-distance Allude before continuing to pass on his orders, leaving us to follow the Bloodied Beast up the marble stairs. The steps are soft and odd, unlike any other thing I've ever walked on besides maybe a bed.

A thump to the back of my head refocuses my attention as Virgil continues forward with a harsh whisper.

"Were you always this unfocused? Or did the absence of the Bloody Palm make you like this? Pay attention, Wyatt. This is dangerous. A Virtue, and probably several Powers lurk within these halls."

Tightening my gaze, I throw Virgil a thumbs-up and stride after him. We rapidly reach the darkened tunnel, and Edward motions for Virgil. The man of darkness peeks in first, shaking his head after a second of observation.

"Nothing. No traps. It's pitch black, but nothing else. I can't even sense a lick of Ether in it."

Edward spends a moment thinking before Lennon proposes an idea.

"How about the kid goes first? We're all pretty easy to kill. A good bullet to the head will drop any of us. Not him, though."

I feel four separate gazes fall onto me as Edward sighs and pats me on the shoulder.

"He's right, Wyatt. You should go first. Even without the Bloody Palm, that lineage of yours holds true. Remember our training? I shot you in the chest, and the bullet hardly made it to your ribcage. I don't think a headshot by anything other than a cannon will put you down after your new Sigil."

Sighing, I nod to Edward and the rest of the team. Even Earl agrees with them as he constantly has one hand in his pouch, ready to search for anything that may be needed. It's a massive risk for him to be here with us, considering the threats that lurk and it shows his growth to me.

Long ago, he was terrified to look at a ghost or a spider. Now, he looks down an alley of pure darkness with only a minor tremble. I'm proud of him.

"Okay. I'll do it. Just give me a second."

I take a deep breath as I flow Ether through my form, preparing to walk the tunnel. Who knows what might jump out at me?

Rapturous is my first call to arms. It's a precaution in case of poison or affliction. Then, Breakneck and Ironbound substantiate themselves as Arbalests do the same. The several minutes from my first Strugglers Gasp have nearly removed the entirety of its side effects because of Earl's medicine.

Thank you, Earl.

Once my skills are active, I conjure a Madness using the Lily, contacting her sharply with my mind. Ever since we killed Sequester, she's been easier to reach. Not easy, but easier. After just a moment, I feel my skull bulge with power as a scene of a skull hardening into a stone flower plays behind my eyelids.

Good. I'm ready now. Strugglers Defiance blooms as I step forward, entering the darkness. With each footfall, including the first, I'm prepared to use Strugglers Gasp and siphon Ether away from everything, but nothing happens past the first ten steps.

Yet, as I turn around to gauge my distance, I find nothing behind me. Not a soul. Not the tunnel I came from. Nothing.

What the fuck?

My heart accelerates as I twist back around, and all that remains is darkness. My feet still stand on solid ground, though, so I step backward, attempting to reach Edward. But it doesn't go as planned.

Instead of finding that grand ballroom, I find myself within some kind of sick, twisted theater.

Hundreds of marionettes hang from the ceiling, their porcelain-like limbs suspended like grotesque ornaments. They remind me of the things Ma used to put on the roof when I was little during the winter. I pause my footstep, unwilling to move a muscle, as I immediately know that these things are alive. I don't know where I am, but wherever it is, it is made by Eli Weiss.

Carefully, I gaze around, searching for any way out, and all the walls are featureless, without a single exit. Scanning even further forward, beside the slightly ajar curtains on the far end of the theater, I see a closed door.

Good. At least there is a way out. For a moment, I consider moving, but I quickly place away that thought. I should wait. There is a chance someone will follow me.

So, I do. I relax my muscles to remain entirely still and unmoving as I patiently wait. Seconds pass that gradually turn into a full minute before a low crack of wood resounds beside me. I turn my head to see what it is, and I only catch a glimpse of Earl's panicked face before everything in the chamber changes as he releases a muffled scream.

In an instant, the marionettes spring to life, their porcelain joints creaking and cracking as if made of wood. And as they slide along their strings, I realize each has eight limbs. Like spiders falling from their webs, they slide down from the ceiling, still suspended in the air.

A stuttering voice resounds from beside me as all the puppets snap entirely to attention, each and every soulless face staring straight at us.

"Uh-h-uh... Wyatt?"

Earl hardly eeks out my name as the memory of his phobia of spiders soars through my mind. Fucking hell. Of course. Weiss did this on purpose.

But then... why are we together?

I'm not given a chance even to consider the thought as the hundred or more puppets surge forward, somehow their strings holding them unaffected by the multitude of other wires.

The room is filled with the echoing sounds of porcelain against porcelain that pierce into my ears with each grinding movement. Each marionette shifts with the speed of a dozen men into one, and they move with an inhuman synchronicity. It's as though I'm surrounded by a legion of malevolent twins.

Swiftly, I retreat, grabbing onto Earl as we backpedal, but the puppets surge forward even faster. Earl brought Deux, but she wasn't transported here with us, leaving just the two of us to deal with these hundreds.

Only a moment later, we hit the wall with nowhere else to run. I move in front of Earl, but there are just too many. Meanwhile, the man is shivering in fear. He needs to get it together. I know he has issues...

"EARL! FOCUS!"

I grab onto his shoulders and shake him. This probably isn't the best way to help, but I don't have the time for any others. My next words as the puppets close in, however, possess a bit more calmness and sincerity as I try not to make him freak out even more. He already looks like he's about to piss himself.

"I need you, man. Please, please focus. Think for me. We need to get a way out."

The instant I finish my words, the first of the puppets reach me. Its many hands grasp onto the wires that it hangs from as it darts downward at me, screeching a shriek that has Earl's legs quake until he hits the ground.

The scythe blade from my right arm twangs into the air as I meet the approach of the puppet, but I receive far more resistance than I expected. Instead of being sent flying from my physical strength, the marionette is only pushed away.

Its dozens of fingers dig into the wooden floor of the theater as it slides backward, ten more to fill its place.

"Come on, Earl!"

The moment I finish speaking, I inhale a breath of Ether, hoping it will drop these puppets, but it does nothing but loosen my chains. At the very least, I didn't inhale with my flesh and only used my lungs.

This might take a while.

Maybe that's Weiss' purpose, though.