My vision slows, and the brief moment of stillness that sets upon the room turns into what seems like minutes. The feeling of viscera sloughing off my back causes bile to rise in my throat; its hot, sticky texture difficult to associate with that of a person. My head turns agonizingly slowly as I look to Catherine, her face a contorted mixture of rage and pain. Bright green energy wraps around her hands, and she screams something that’s drowned out by the ringing in my ears.

The wooden bench I’m sitting on rocks, and I watch from the corner of my eye as Duff launches himself at the figure, his movements rapid even in slow motion. I feel myself getting pulled backwards, invisible hands grasping my arms as the world starts to sync back up around me.

As the ringing fades, the cacophony of sound coming from the room assaults me instead. Several other Vanguard soldiers have transformed into writhing frames of bladed limbs, their humanity gone as they attack the mourners around them.

Duff unsheathes the blade from his cane, the cut blurring an arc through the air as he lops off the limb sticking through Vanguard Chassis' chest. No longer trapped, Chassis rips himself off of the remaining stump, blood and pulped organ leaking from the hole as he stumbles away. The creature looks at its severed limb dispassionately before speaking. “A mild irritation. I did not think I would need to account for the interference of a mortal. Remove yourself from the equation.”

The end of its stump splits into four sections as it aims at the sergeant, launching a projectile faster than he can move. He cries out, a piece of bone embedded in his shin, dark pustulating viens spreading from the wound. The reality of the situation catches up to me, sheer panic overwhelming my thoughts as he slices through his own leg at the thigh.

I try to run forward to help, but the hands gripping my arms won’t let go. “Brooke! You need to run!” Naomi screams, and I almost listen to her, my fear gripping me just as hard as she is. I rip my arm from her grasp, running forward to stomp on Duff's old leg—the limb having grown spider legs and a maw of its own.

Finding the leg suitably smooshed, I take a look at his face, his pale complexion filling me with worry. I pick him up in my arms and run toward the hallway we came from, wrapping my tendrils around what's left of his leg as tightly as I can. Stumbling forward, I duck to avoid a slash from one of the transformed soldiers, the spine-shaped whip passing over me and sawing into the torso of someone else.

A flash of green sees the monstrosity split in two, with Catherine—covered in viscera herself—cutting it apart as she runs past me. One of her hands runs across Duff as she passes, the stains of red her fingers leave mixing with the green energy sinking into his body. I feel the skin my tentacles are wrapping around knit together, mending into fresh pink flesh. I send a thank-you her way under my breath, my thoughts directing themselves to Roosevelt. “Where’s the closest place I can go that can keep him safe?” I ask, speeding past the memorials as I sprint down the hall.

His voice sounds exhausted as he responds, as if each word were a struggle to speak. “There’s a… bunker access. Go... double doors... this floor.”

His apparent exhaustion concerns me, but takes less priority compared to getting Duff to safety. I give him a glance as I look around for a set of double doors, almost glad he’s unconscious, as I’m sure he’d fight me on this.

I stop in my tracks, my feet sliding on the slick floor as I make it out of the hall, a scene of carnage greeting me. At the snack table from earlier, a Fathom holds several shriveled husks of humans against the walls, its thin branch-like limbs impaling them like ornaments on a macabre Christmas tree.

It turns toward me, its still-human legs shuffling in a facsimile of human movement. It has no eyes or vision that I can see, but it definitely knows where I am, its whole body following my movement as I try to silently pace around it. I see the double doors, their large mechanical locks covered in inhuman scratches under the red emergency lights.

My observations end, nearly taking my life with them as a new limb shoots past my head and I rear out of the way, nearly dropping Duff.

“Shit!” I cry, another branch already racing towards me.

I kick the next one with my armored leg, deflecting it to the side rather than try and dodge with Duff still in my arms. Can I get past him just by running? Maybe. Can I guarantee they’ll open the door for me when I get there, or that it can open at all? Definitely not. Unwilling to leave him somewhere to get speared, I wrap Duff in some of my tentacles, tying him to my torso to free up my arms.

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The Fathom pulls its branches back, the action freeing its movement up some and allowing it to hold the husks in front of it like shields. I summon Tactigon to my hand, its cold temperature reassuring as I pass it to a pair of tentacles to hold. As I’d hoped, the creatures knees bend, its body leaning back to keep the meat shields between my mace and it.

Waiting for it to attack the weapon, I stand still, unblinking as I watch it.

I breathe in, tensing my legs.

I breathe out, still wary of it attacking me instead.

I breathe in, my patience wanin—I dash forward, the clang of the attack hitting my weapon like a starting bell for a race as I slam my feet into the ground.

Confident I have enough time before the next attack, I focus the chthonic energy I’ve charged to as small a point as I can in my palms, holding them forward. Releasing the ability point-blank, I almost don’t see the limb growing towards me, and I definitely don’t have enough time to dodge. I crane my neck to the left and twitch my hands up, desperately praying that it’ll be enough.

My face erupts into burning pain, and blood sprays onto Duff as the attack pierces my cheek, sliding along the side of my skull. I’m pulled along with the blow, the spines along its length hooking onto my skin until I’m thrown, rolling across the floor. Tears stream down my face as I hear a whimpering that I belatedly realize is my own.

I gingerly touch the side of my head with my hands, only to pull it back sharply after I find nothing but a stabbing pain where my ear should be. It hurts. It’s all wrong. I shouldn’t be here; I want to go home. My mind feels like it’s breaking; I don’t even want to look up to see if it's still coming after me.

I’m afraid.

I hear a load creaking, and though my mind screams not to look, I find my head rising upward to see the source. The Fathom, though its upper half is shredded and splintered, slowly raises itself back onto its human legs again.

I try to push myself up, but my arms shudder in weakness at the attempt. Why isn’t Roosevelt talking?

“Yer lookin' right gruesome, lass.” Duff groans from beneath me, wiggling against my restraints. My mind collects itself a bit now that I’m not alone, and I release the tentacles tying him to me before rolling off of him.

Rolling onto his stomach, he gives the Fathom a long stare before helping me slide behind the wall of the memorial hall. “Suppose I’m in yer debt, then.” He says, pulling a set of knives from his uniform jacket. “Didja get tae see how that old dog Chassis fared after tha dumb stunt I pulled?”

I shake my head, a little too shaken up to speak.

He looks bothered, but more about the way I responded than the response itself. His hand brushes through his mutton chops as he mulls something over before leaning past the corner at the Fathom I couldn’t finish off.

“I know it’s nae a very good time for it, but would ye like tae hear a bit of a story?” He asks, his voice quiet as he turns back to me. The confused tilt of my head must have been affirmation enough, because he continues. “Years ago, back when I was a wee bastard instead of a full-grown one, I decided tae make a soldier out of myself. Course’, at the time I dinnae what bein’ a soldier really was, or what sorts o’ beasties we’d hafta deal with. Learned right quick, I did. First proper engagement a’ my career saw me and twenty other blokes as the only survivors out a fifty-man platoon.”

He glances around the corner a few more times as he talks, his speech increasing in speed a bit each time. “When I say I was scared tae shite, I’m talkin two ton’s a’ centipede with as many eyes as it got legs. Clever bastage, too. Had the lot of us convinced it couldn’t get tae us in this cave till we all huddled in there like rats. Dug through the ground like e’ was a worm on tha way to a buffet.”

His story isn’t exactly compelling, but it takes me out of the situation enough mentally that I almost relax. “How’d you guys survive?” I ask, maybe a little invested.

“A Vanguard, what else?” He says, grinning behind his blood-flecked facial hair. “Old bloke by the name a’ Cannonball shows up behind my hidin’ rock and says to me: ‘Never seen such a terrifyin’ bastard in all my life!’ Course, that was a load of bollocks. He’d fought and killed Fathom twice it’s size, and I knew it then too. But havin’ a Vanguard—a livin, beathin, demigod—sit next tae me and act like this was the worst day a’ his life gave me a perspective I’m nae ta forget.”

Duff finishes his speech with a self-satisfied grin that falls within seconds of trying to get up and forgetting he’s only got one leg. Sliding back down onto his butt, he hides his embarrassment by continuing to talk unabated.

“I’m no Vanguard, but I’ve been around a while, and I tell ya what, lass. I’ve never seen such a terrifyin’ bastard in all my life.” His grin is both obnoxious and contagious; he’s obviously wanted to do this since it happened to him.

Smiling pulls at the skin of my cheeks, the pain from my wounds making me flinch. I’m fully aware once I see the Fathom my confidence is going to fade, but for now, it’s like I’ve had a full reset and I can take on anything. “So who’s Cannonball in this situation?” I ask, taking some satisfaction from the way his eye twitches. “You’ve got one leg, no cane, and I’m the Vanguard between us.”

“I dinnae where you lot get yer ego, but it comes back right quick. Now help me up, I’m promotion’ ya to prosthesis.”