It's been a while...

School is out and I have nothing to do this summer until I start my first year at college. Might as well pump out as much as I can.

I am rewriting the earlier chapters of the CotE series. They will have more depth and better writing. However, I will not overdo the descriptions or completely change the dialogue. There's a certain charm to it all.

I will, however, rewrite Rafael slightly. I don't want him to take up too much space and a story is only as good as the villain. I'll add more philosophy and craziness to him. He will be redone starting now. If he seems different, that is why.

I promised more Rigby. I have some, but I am out of time. Sorry. I will add so much more in the next chapter that you will be sick of him.

For this series of chapters, the theme is "Not Your Kind of People" by Garbage. As stated in the AN, this feels like the "Act 2" of Part 3. The overall theme is still "Serpents" by Sharon Von Etton.

Without further ado, enjoy...

When Finn was fifteen, a year prior to today, he had an encounter with Billy, the legendary warrior. The details leading up prior cannot be remembered, but all that remains in his memory was the fire afterwards.

Finn sat on a toppled tree log, staring mesmerized at the burning, warping flames of the campfire. Jake slept on the log as well and rested his head on Finn's leg. All around was pitch black. Finn's eyes could not adjust due to the bright light. He was blinded to the world around him. The fire itself was entrancing. A large amount of time was spent sitting and staring unflinchingly as the wood crackled and the embers rose into the night sky.

He didn't even realize he had drawn his demon blood sword and began sharpening its blade with a rock. He could have been doing it for a while without noticing. Maybe it was a subconscious attempt to stay awake. The longer he stared, the more he lost his thoughts and began to drift off.

He was startled by the soft, high notes of a flute. On the other side of the blaze sat the greatest hero Finn had ever known; Billy. He held a wooden flute to his mouth, eyes closed from the relaxing concentration of playing. His notes were rather lower in tone and drawn out. He held an elongated low note before his fingers danced to produce three rapid notes half an octave higher. It was calm, meditative, and reflective.

Finn sat watching in silent awe and respect. His sharpening stopped. Jake awoke for a brief moment to only be soothed back to sleep in Finn's lap.

Billy looked up from his playing. Finn could only see the immediate light bouncing and moving over Billy. Yet the hero could see everything. He could see Finn, Jake, the log, the tree twenty feet behind them, the woods in the distance cutting off the horizon, the grassy plains billowing at the slightest breeze, and the green eyes in the distance stalking them; watching them. Billy fixed himself upon these eyes. His playing hit a broken, screeching high note and he stopped.

Finn noticed this and looked behind his back, seeing nothing. "What's wrong?" he asked as he turned back.

"It'th nothing," Billy replied in his usual lisp. His playing began again, but with open eyes. He kept them fixed in the same direction, on the same pair of green eyes. He moved his mouth away from the wooden pipe. "Finn, I want to tell you a thtory. Almotht a thouthand yearth ago, jutht after the Mushroom War..."

Finn sat up attentively.

"There wath a man, whothe name ithn't important. He wath a good man and, at one point... my betht friend... Thith man was the firtht guardian."

"What was he like?"

"He wath... I think-, actually I can't really remember. Anyway, he wath there the day I fought him."

"Y-you mean he was there when you fought the Lich?!"

Billy replied by closing his eyes and playing some stanzas of more flute music. He stopped and continued, "In the middle of the battle, he found himthelf controlled by the Him. I wath nowhere nearby and couldn't help. He wath lotht in a world of hith own fearth and detheptionth." He played a bit of his flute more, allowing the story to savor in the air. Billy could see the green eyes were much closer than before.

He began again, "He... knew He would uthe him to kill everyone elthe. Tho, he did the only thing he could."

Finn moved inwards more, entranced. "What did he do?"

Billy broke his flute playing abruptly. "He killed himthelf..." His pipe hummed immediately afterward, much slower and more remorseful.

Billy looked up, "Now, the moral ith that, if giving your life wath worth ten minuteth, even ten thecondth for your friendth..." He saw the green eyes staring directly from behind Finn's back. "...would you?"

Boney arms reached from the darkness and rested themselves over Finn's shoulders and across his chest. Billy only watched. "Wha-..." Finn turned around to look behind him. He was blinded to the world around him. There was only the black of night, blending everything together. He could see nothing.

"It's nothing, Finn..."

The boy's eyes shot open in terror. He snapped back to the fire as it flashed green and disappeared. He glanced quickly as Jake was dragged away from his lap, his breath visible.

Finn stood up only to trip back across the log. he crawled backwards on his hands and knees, unable to see. The air was dead. He was halted as his back ran into a large boulder.

"It's nothing..."

The green fires of a boney arm planted itself next to his arm.

He felt the cold overwhelm him.

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

The severed face of Billy infused with the Lich entered from the abyss.

He raised a single, decayed finger to his malformed lips.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

He lunged forward.

"AGHHHAGHH!" Finn screamed in a girlish tone.

He shot up from the ground, dripping with sweat. The long, pointy extensions of a branch were resting on his stomach, tickling him.

"Stupid branch and stupid grass and stupid sleep," Finn grunted as he tossed the wood and dusted himself off. He had fallen asleep on the edge of the woods with a large meadow. The night was in its prime and the moon shone brightly overhead. He could see the vast expanse of Ooo for what seemed like miles.

"Welp, there goes all my sleep for the week," Finn remarked passively and without worry. He looked back into the forest to his left. Beyond the initial trees was nothing but black darkness and a slight breeze emitting from it.

Finn got a chill in his spine as he retreated cautiously from the woods.

He reached onto his back and pulled out his demon blood sword. It was still gray from losing his encounter in the Pits and it was still broken in half just above the hilt. He looked disappointingly at it. It was garbage at this point; a family heirloom reduced to dust. The edge was still somewhat sharp at points, but it lost all value of its extension.

Still, however, Finn could feel the need to keep it. Something about the weapon seemed destined for something greater. He would refill it with a new demon's blood. A cool demon. One that shoots flames and plays electric guitar. That would make it an awesome sword.

Billy's words, though distorted by the feverdream, were actually said. At some point in time. Finn could not remember when, but everything in that dream up to the end was exactly as remembered... possibly even the green eyes in the woods. He checked the forest once more, expecting that same stare. Nothing.

He contemplated his message for a moment before putting it on hold in his brain for later. Now, he still had a vague task to accomplish. Flame Princess and his break up also resurfaced before being drowned and repressed back into the confines of his mind.

Either he seeks out someone who knows about the Mushroom War or finally figures out why on earth he is doing this and tell Marceline.

The night was in its prime and Finn was wide awake. There seemed no better time to start walking.

A twist of the barrel catch.

A push on the safety pin.

The gun practically fell apart in his hands.

Rigby dunked the barrel into the creek. It was horribly inefficient, but it was really the only method Rigby had for cleaning his pistol. He did not mind sitting in the water to do so. Despite the clouds, the heat still felt as though it was nearing the hundreds. The past two days had been taken slowly and lightly. Rigby stayed isolated.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Just trying to think, maaaaaan," Rigby replied as he moved on to the other parts of his 1911. When he was done, he reassembled the gun and put it in its holster. He waded out of the water and sat on one of the large rocks near the riverbed. He rotated his bag around in front of him. As he unzipped it, he looked around and noticed the changing forest around him. The leaves were getting paler and the bushes and vegetation were dying. HArdly any birds were chirping.

Rigby switched back to his red bag. He rummaged around inside for an early morning breakfast. That was when he felt it slip his fingers. Eileen's necklace.

He pulled out the gold chain from his bag and stared at it, admiring it. He loved her.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why did you love her?"

"She..." Rigby paused. He was overcome with unsurety. Why did he love her? Why this obsession? "She..." He stopped himself as he struggled to think, shaking his head, "No, no! She was so much more than just video games and movies. I could have hung out with Mordecai if I wanted that. She was just...something else."

"What was she to you?"

Rigby squeezed his fist around the necklace, the stupid fucking necklace. It was such a cheesy and corny thing. Why on earth did he think it would be a good gift in the first place? "Why do you care?" he muttered as he closed his eyes to hold back growing tears. "She's gone anyway." He stood up with the necklace in his hand. He reeled his hand back, closing his eyes.

"Come on, Rigby, come on..."

His gripped tightened on it. He stepped forward.

"Come on!"

It dangled against his wrist. He had to move on.

"AGHHHH!" he screamed as he threw his hand forward. Then he stopped. The necklace swung around and lightly tapped against his knuckles. He could not do it. Why does she keep invading his thoughts.

In one swift motion, Rigby dropped the necklace into his bag, wrapped it back onto his back, and ran off into the forest. He leaped over rocks and weaved through bushes.

"Where are you going?"

"Just thinking, huehegh, Running helps clear my head."

"You're angry about her."

Rigby shook his head.

"I know you, Rigby. I know what decisions you are making."

"Mordecai's dead. What's there to be angry about?"

"You know there's still evil; that it will never cease. Rigby, I would like to share something with you."

"Wh-what is it?"

"You are ready for your next lesson."

Rigby felt that he was ready. He felt a sort of trust for the Lich at this point.

"What is free will; the idea of choice?"

"Sorry, I slept through civics and got a D."

"You keep blaming the world for their evils and wrong doings. You are right, though, but you cannot hope to quell the growing storm with mere bullets."

Rigby leaped over a short ravine formed by a shallow creek. He stumbled as he slipped his foot out from under him. "heugh, Okay. You lost me."

"Free will is pragmatic. It is a reflection of all that surrounds and binds. It is only a reflection of one's environment."

"You never use big words like this before. This is the most you've ever talked," Rigby muttered aloud and his gaze danced around the trees. His fixation was on something not even there, just on one direction.

"I am simply teaching you part of what I know and what I have learned."

"What's the point of all this? Why are you telling me all of this? I don't even understand what you want me to do!"

There was an abject silence. Rigby stopped his running and stood still, lingering on what the Lich would say. The air was still and dead and the forest grew quiet.

Finally, the Lich spoke plainly and simply, "I can teach you to control others' free will."

Rigby froze with thought, before replying, "Okay."

After three days, they were ready. Three days of practice and training made ready for one of their few runs outside the safety of the cafe.

The five jogged steadily. Muscle Man lead the front, hands loosely gripping his shotgun. Fives floated further behind, a Ruger 9mm in tow. Starla held the rear with a standard AR, while Thomas and CJ ran parallel across the street.

Their eyes trained everywhere. Alleys, corners, and even abandoned cars and buses served as potential hazards. Both sides would slow their pacing at these stops, grazing over them with muzzles trained like a fine toothed comb.

After a few more minutes of walking, things were beginning to slow down. The group was beginning to approach their destinations. The jogging became brisk, then became a normal form of walking.

Finally, Muscle Man held up his fist at a right angle. The groups stopped. There was a small parking lot to a now decadent Cheeser's, which was to Muscle Man's immediate right. Muscle Man's side aimed their guns back the way they came, up the road, and upwards towards the windows. Thomas' side crossed over one at a time, each covering the one before and after.

It had been three days after the attack on the coffee shop. Three days of intense, urban training. Benson had taught them well.

When everyone crossed and was situated into the lot, Muscle Man signed for everyone to relax. A general sigh ensued. His shirt was completely soaked with sweat. Thomas dropped to the ground, sitting in the shade. He was panting heavily, completely exhausted. CJ paced back and forth in the shade, hands raised behind her head. The goat simply gave her a look of disbelief.

"Opens the airway, whuoogh, lets you rest quicker, whuoogh," she remarked to him in between breaths.

"You know that you're insane, right?" Thomas quipped as he pulled a water bottle out of his blue pack and chugged a good portion of it.

"You know you're just a wuss, right?"

"Yeah, but at least I know when to stop. Or when to take a break," he said as he held out his water bottle. CJ shook her head as she took it, smiling at his foolish remarks before taking several sips.

Starla lent against the wall. Her boyfriend stood beside her. "How much further, Mitch?"

"Not much, babe. Just a little bit," he panted with exhaustion. His shirt was soaked with sweat.

"How can it be this hot?" Fives complained.

"Can't even see the sun through the clouds," Thomas added in.

The five meandered for quite some time, simply panting and reeling at the perceived sweltering heat and the trek they just took.

Muscle Man with his back against the wall pulled out his walkie talkie. "Skips, you there bro?"

"Just give me a minute, I'm almost there."

"Why does he get the truck?" CJ finally complained.

Muscle Man responded, "He has to go to the complete other side. Why? You want to walk over there?"

"No, but I think we could have gotten a lift."

Muscle Man responded with one of his typical high pitched groans, upset over the negative approval of his decisions. "Benson put me in charge. So shut up about it."

Starla piped in, exhausted, "He could have at least dropped us off a lot closer." His own girlfriend's disapproval erupted a short chuckle from Fives and Thomas.

Muscle Man angrily called back to his radio, "Skips, hurry up! What are you, my-"

"I'm almost there, be patient."

Muscle Man left the wall and crouched on the ground. "Alright, listen up." The others followed suit in a circle. He unraveled a map marked Twin Peaks Shopping District. There were several brightly marked boxes scattered throughout the gray buildings for several blocks on the side. Taking up the majority of the page was the Twin Peaks mall with shops and stores formed in a giant square around it. Based on the map, they were at the Cheezers embedded in the outer edges of the district and to the West of the mall. "We'll split into two groups. Thomas, CJ, you head up the North side. Try to look for junk and stuff."

"Descriptive," Thomas commented.

Muscle Man pointed sternly at him before speaking. "Fives, Starla, and me will go South and get food. When we get here," he pointed at two points directly above and below the middle of the mall, "We'll wait for each other. Then we'll both head in our side of the mall. We'll go from there, got it?"

"Got it."

"Uh-huh."

"Totally."

"Anything we should know?" CJ asked.

"Make sure Thomas doesn't cry," Muscle Man replied nonchalantly.

"Hey!"

"And hold his hand."

CJ continued, "That's obvious. Anything else?"

"Everyone else may have the same idea we have," Starla answered.

"Good point. We don't know who's scavenging out here," Muscle Man followed.

"Or living out here," Fives added in pessimistically. They could be taken someone else's stuff.

"Just be careful. Skips?"

"Alright, I'm ready. I can see everything except inside the mall, so I'll be with you until then."

"Your shooting get any better?" CJ teased.

"Just make sure you duck so I don't hit you."

"Guys, enough joking around," Muscle Man stated trying to establish order. "Anyway, let's move out."

The two groups headed down the street their separate ways, occasionally losing sight of each other through debris, abandoned cars, and downed power lines.

CJ and Thomas crept to the edge of the corner building directly facing the front of the mall. CJ led with a USP handgun while Thomas carried his usual M14/M9 combo.

The main parking lot was jammed with abandoned cars closer to the main building. Like the rest of the city, it was also filled with craters, downed, interlacing power lines, and pockets of small fires. The mall itself was completely shelled out in the front as a massive hole from a jet crash left it unrecognizable. Fragments of a barely recognizable fuselage lay strewn around.

CJ nodded and the two swept around the corner. They barged into the first shop, immediately stepping to the sides with guns drawn and exiting the 'killzone' that was the narrow doorway.

They're first 'stop' was in a small gun store. Of course, every item in the store, from holsters to ammo to even cleaning oil, was completely cleared out. A few shelves were toppled over, the display glass for handguns at the register was shattered, and form papers were strewn about the floor. Strangely enough, some spent shell casings also lined the floor. The two glanced quickly at each other before sweeping up and down the store. In the end, all they found were some loose rounds of varying calibers.

With their sweep done, the two moved in silence and breached into the next store in the same, careful manner. This carried on for the next few down the line, which very uneventful. They were food joints that wreaked and a looted hobby shop where even walking in through the front door was impossible.

The next store was a larger brand clothing store. They two peered through the glass windows. Many of the shelves were toppled, the mannequins lay in pieces and stripped of clothing, and clothes were strewn and thrown carelessly around the store. Nevertheless, it was still stocked.

Thomas and CJ opened the front door and quickly swept up to the back. They were alone. Thomas relaxed his tight grip on the M14 while CJ slid her handgun into the back of her pants. The store was broken off with men's clothing on the right side and women's on the left. "Get whatever you need," CJ muttered passively as she picked up the walkie talkie. She walked away from Thomas, "Hey Muscle Man? What size are you and Starla?"

Thomas separated as he made his way to the Men's department. His shirt was sticking to his back with sweat, and he was still wearing the same pants and underwear for several days. He felt absolutely disgusting. With this in mind, the goat moved through the fallen, trashed aisles. Of course, there were no pants for the tall and thin category. Tall and fat? No problem. Short and skinny? Of course. Tall and thin? Woah, slow down there skellington. He eventually found a pair, though through intense and aggravating searching. Next he easily found some undergarments and a few matching olive green shirts.

He wasted no time taking off his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat off his back, and throwing it on the other side of the store. Then he looked around and behind him. No one was watching. Just in case, he faced towards the wall. He took off the rest of his disgusting apparel.

"Hey, Thomas-" came behind him before the sentence came to an awkward halt.

Dammit!

The goat froze like a deer in headlight. His face beat bright red and his head starting pounding. "Y-Yeah?" he squealed out in a voice three octaves too high.

"Uhm, I-I got everything we need. We should get going."

"Yeahthatsoundsgreat!" he squeeked out. He was too afraid to even move to cover his butt. He did not even want to imagine the look on CJ's face. Eventually he croaked out, "Whyareyoustillstandingthere?!" The sound of awkwardly paced footsteps moved towards the door. The embarrassment made the air feel twenty degrees more unbearable. With tense, rigid movements, he put his newly found unmentionables, pants, and shirt.

He walked back outside and met CJ at the door. "Hey, uhh, I'm sorry about, a-all that," he nervously said, face still flush.

"About what?" CJ asked in a curious tone. She forced herself behind him and placed the clothes in her arms in his blue backpack.

"About..." Thomas motioned without wanting to say it.

She came around to face him and smirked, "Thomas, I have no idea what you're talking about." She walked off, heading down to the next store with her pistol at the ready.

Thomas smiled slightly, his embarrassment slowly subsiding. He joined her, M14 at the ready.

"It was a very cute butt, though,"she teased.

"Oh my GOD!"

"Especially with your little tail-"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP!" he yelled as he rushed ahead of her and into the doors of the next building.

"Don't fucking move."

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks as he stood looking down the barrel of a pocket revolver. The man behind it was an older man with shabby, dirty clothing. "Put it down."

Thomas slowly placed his rifle on the ground and held his hands in the air. "Hey, hey man. It's cool."

"Back away from the door." He led Thomas deeper into the store. "What's in the bag?"

"It's not yours."

"Did I ask for your opinion? I said-"

A hand moved and quickly smacked the gun away from Thomas's face. The revolver went off near the goat's ear as CJ attacked the stranger.

eeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeee

Thomas held the side of his head as he stumbled around. All he could hear was deafening white noise. By the time he looked back up, CJ was already in the process of flipping the other man to the ground.

In a blind, semi-conscious state, Thomas pulled his M9 from the back of his pants and held it in front of the man's face. CJ muttered something to Thomas. "WHAT?!" Thomas screamed, losing control over his hearing.

The man had his hands at his chest, mouth moving like he was pleading. "WHAT IS HE SAYING?!"

CJ continued to try to talk to him.

"WHAT?!"

With an involuntary flinch, the gun went off.

CJ leaped back, screaming some obscenity. Thomas stood frozen, the M9 smoking in his hand. He blinked rapidly, trying to register what just happened. He stumbled away, making a path straight for the door. He dropped the ground and sat on the sidewalk against the street. His eyes were wide as he was looking around.

"-eeey. Hey..."

Thomas looked behind him. CJ was holding his rifle. "You alright?" she said.

Thomas shook his head as though to clear water out of his ears. "Yeah, I-I'm fine." CJ held up his rifle, and Thomas took it with shaking hands.

CJ said, "I'm going to head back in and see if he's got anythin-" she was stopped when Thomas grabbed her arm.

"Please don't..."

She nodded in understanding and the two continued on their sweep.

"CJ, Thomas, you guys alright?" Skips asked over the radio.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just had a little run-in," CJ explained.

"You ladies ready, yet? Let's move it!" Muscle Man said.

"Yeah yeah, we're getting there," CJ replied. She turned to the goat, "You okay?"

"I'm alright. Thanks...for that..."

"No problem. Anyway, we should get going."

The two cleared the rest of the buildings in silence until they arrived at the rendezvous point.

"The others are across. I've got you covered. Just remember, I can't watch you guys while you're inside," Skips spoke over the talkie.

"After you M'Lady," Thomas muttered in an overly cheesy tone. The walk was agonizing, but Thomas and CJ crossed the large street to arrive at the side of the mall. The store on the side of the mall was just as trashed as the other buildings outside of it. Except here, the damage was more severe. The roof was caving noticeably inward and the pillars had cracks running through the plaster.

They emerged out of the store to see Muscle Man waiting across the mall. High Five Ghost and Starla were both on the upper levels. Thomas stepped towards Muscle Man but he held up a hand to stop him. He picked up his radio and spoke, "We'll cover it all in one sweep. You two get your side, Fives and Starla are up top." CJ and Thomas nodded in confirmation.

The five moved slowly up the mall, carefully eyeing into every store to determine if there was anything worth salvaging. The mall was trashed from looting and debris marred over the floors and walls. The walkway on Five's side was completely missing; he hovered above nothing.

Thomas noted the dead corpses in one of the coffee shops. They were mangled and bent in misshapen positions. There were carvings on their foreheads and arms. Most notably, their eyelids were stapled open.

"Muscle man!" the terrified goat whispered loudly.

"Muscle man!"

"What?" the green man shot back quietly.

"We need to go! This place isn't a good idea.

Muscle Man hopped over a fallen kiosk, "Come on, just a little bit mo-"

"What the fuck?!"

Muscle Man found himself standing against a bandit. Red paint was smeared all over his face. His mismatched clothing were covered in spikes and he wielded an AR. What was most noticeable was the large grin on his face. It was eerie and unearthly, as if he was expecting company.

"HEY!" Starla shouted as the park crew readied their weapons and held them at attention. Almost at the same time, six more bandits appeared on the first and second floor opposite Muscle Man and the others. They crawled out of stores in a horrid, inhuman manner. They held their weapons at attention as well. They were dressed in misshapen clothing consisting of anything from chaps and animal furs to scant leather. They held the same crazed look as the first.

"PUT IT DOWN! PUT IT DOWN!" "WHAT THE HELL?!" "Get the fuck back!"

The shouting erupted on both sides. However, the crazed side came back with different calls. The one closest to Thomas threw his weapon down and challenged, "Go ahead! Start the fire! Take me to Valhalla with you! Fucking shoot me!"

The others gave estranged, deranged returns.

The mall became riff with nonstop shouting as both sides held guns at the ready. Muscle Man stood out in the open with the first of the bandits.

"COME ON! FUCKING SHOOT ME!"

"Get back!"

"Put it down!"

Someone fired first.

Then the whole mall erupted in a barrage of gunfire. Rifles clattered and missed shots went all over, kicking up settled dust and ripping into the plastered walls. Both sides made for cover.

Muscle Man immediately shot the man in front of him. He fell with a grin still adorned. Muscle Man racked his shotgun before firing again blindly. He screamed in his usual fury as he racked shell after shell, turning fiercely and abruptly each time.

A trail of gunfire rose up and struck Muscle Man in chest. He collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony.

"MITCH!" Starla screamed. She leaped down from the second floor to where her boyfriend lay. Fives floated over and helped Starla drag Muscle Man through the raging gunfire.

"SKIPS! BRING THE TRUCK, NOW!" CJ barked over the talkie as she fired blindly at the attackers.

Muscle Man writhed in pain with each step Starla took. Thomas held up his rifle as he replaced Fives at his shoulder.

Before Skips could say a word, the park group threw themselves into the white truck as it sped off deeper into town.

"Please, we don't have anywhere else to go! Y-You have walls, you probably have food; look how much room you have!"

Benson replied coldly, "I'm sorry. We don't have any more room. I'd love to help but we're low on supplies as it is."

"We're you the one fighting against Gene? Promising us a better life? You're a fucking liar!"

"I'm sorry, but we can't help you."

The man, in a haste of anger, moved his hand to inside his coat pocket. Benson pulled the charging handle on his AR and aimed it at him. "Don't even think about it!"

"James, please!" his wife urged him. The kids hugged the legs of their parents in fear. The rest of the small group took a step back.

He shot his hands in the air, now terrified of the gumball machine on the other side of the walls. "Look, it's okay, you don't have to-"

"Walk away!"

"Look, please-"

"Leave!"

The small assemblage of families turned away with fear and sadness in their eyes. They were all dressed in mismatched, raggedy clothing. The woman pulled on the arms of her husband and urged them to keep moving. The group shambled away down the road and eventually out of sight.

Benson lowered his weapon, sighing at the events that unfolded. That was not the first group they had to turn away in recent days, and he knew it would not be the last. This one did not end in fighting, though it easily could have.

Benson stood atop a small guard tower constructed out of a plywood board resting on a small construct of wooden beams. It had no railings and was about four or five feet tall so that the wall was at chest level. There were four more scattered around on both sides of the camp facing the streets.

The leader turned around to see Margaret standing against an overturned jeep that now sat as an barricade. She was staring down at her revolver. She systematically slid out the cylinder, flicked it back into the gun, then spun it back out again. It looked as though the young robin had ignored the ordeal or chose not to acknowledge Benson. She was angry at the first few times they turned people away, but she simply had to deal with it. Besides, the others turned people out as much as Benson has. She had gotten used to the idea of survival, though she did not like it in the least bit.

She looked up momentarily. Upon seeing how Benson was staring back at her, she immediately shot her glance back downwards. The gumball machine simply turned back to his watch duty. She had to stay there. "Two people outside at all times." Mordecai and Marceline were inside. She desparately wanted to be with them instead.

With the empty, still air, and with nothing else to occupy her time, Margaret walked towards the tower Benson stood on. "It's really quiet out," Margaret sighed as she leaned against the sheet-metaled wall next to the guard post.

Benson was looking at her. He acknowledged the conversation, but he kept glancing out to the rest of town. The robin waited a bit for a response before continuing, "Everything's so quiet now. I sometimes used to hate my job. It was always really loud and the kitchen was like an oven or customers would get mad. I could never have time to think or take a break. I...I kind of miss all of that. Do you know what I mean?"

Benson tilted his head back. He replied, "When was the last time it rained? That always used to put me to sleep, just bang, right out. We're going to be running low on water soon and I'm not sure on what all we can do. I think we should start longer runs after this."

"Yeah..." Margaret responded shyly. She looked up as well. "It's always so dark out. Heh, what I wouldn't give for another sunset. I can hardly remember what sunlight feels like. It used to just mean getting up early. But now, just, everything's so dull and gray all the time. No pool parties, no hanging out with friends, no bars, no morning walks, just...this..."

"That's life now. Just learn to get used to it."

"...I'm sorry, I was just rambling. I'll shut up..."

Benson glanced back at the young robin who now only looked down at the ground away from him. The gumball guardian sighed and turned back to watching the outskirts of town.

"I'm scared, for him..."

Benson fixated back onto her. "Who?"

She rubbed her stomach, which was barely, but surely, growing seemingly each day. She replied, "I know it's a him. I can just tell. I don't know how he'll grow up. He'll have Marcy at least, but, that's about it. No other kids and always looking out for danger...what kind of childhood is that? I just-...I don't know...hehe I-I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. You could care less. It's just too quiet out."

Benson sat down on the edge of the wooden guard platform, "Maybe that's not a bad thing." She turned back to him, wiping the single stray tear running down her cheek. "This is all he'll ever know. It won't be so hard for him to get used to it; to survive. We're stuck thinking on the past and everything that's happened. He won't care so much. I don't know if this helps at all.

Margaret smiled, "No, it-it helps. It doesn't seem like a good world for a kid to grow up in."

"He'll have all of us. And you. It won't be so bad. What are you going to name him?"

"I don't know. I haven't really put much thought into it. Maybe Paul? Tom? Eric? Ehh, those don't sound right. What if I'm wrong and it's a girl? I'll get so used to boy names I may just call her that."

"We'll figure it out sooner or later."

"Yeah..."

The turned looked away from each other in their respective directions. Benson kept up his guard while Margaret gazed at the camp before her. The mangled, mismatched debris spread around led her eye to the next barricade. This was their playground. She looked back down and lifted up her shirt. What kind of child would it be? Maybe he'll be like his mother, or his father. Would his father even be around? As much as she hated the idea, Margaret had to consider what she would do if Mordecai wasn't in the picture. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that this would be the case. They wouldn't all survive. Her son would live with losing family.

What if she didn't survive? What if he didn't have a mom to raise him? That thought scared her more than anything else. It alone nearly brought her to tears. Her mom was there for everything. She couldn't imagine how he would make it without her.

At least he'll have everyone else...

"Thank you..."

Benson turned, puzzled.

"For talking to me..."

The gumball machine did not really understand, but nodded respectfully. He could tell a lot was troubling her mind. Before he could say anything, he was interrupted.

"Benson! Benson!" Skips's voice burst through the walkie talkie at Benson's hip.

The manager picked up his radio, "Skips, what's going on?"

"Muscle Man's hurt! Get the gate open, now!"

He leaped down from the observation platform, tripping on the concrete as he did. He quickly recovered and sprinted to the gate, tossing his AR aside. Margaret came sprinting alongside him, "What did he say?"

Benson opened the padlock and began untying the chain as he replied, "The others are back, but something's not right! Help me with the gate!" Once the chains were off, the two swung open the heavy gate doors. The two stood in silence as they watched the roads, expecting the worst.

"They shouldn't be charging in like this. They still have at least another couple of hours left in their run. Something must be wrong. Horribly wrong."

"Simon, can I make his hair blue?"

"Marcy, why would you make his hair blue?"

"Cuz he was late for work and he tripped over a wet paint sign and fell."

"Wouldn't that make his clothes blue too?"

"No, he just hit his head."

"I love it. Go for it."

Marceline beamed with pride as she colored in the unfortunate cartoon character's head. With such a thick-pointed crayon and horrible form, she ended up going horribly out of the lines and got most of his face, his face, and the empty space surrounding him.

Mordecai was kneeling on the ground while Marceline laid on her stomach kicking her feet back in forth in the air. The Gisney themed coloring book sat in the middle of them. The little girl was gripping the crayon with her whole fist, as though bringing down a knife upon all of Malt Gisney's hopes and dreams.

"Here, let me help you," Mordecai said before reaching for Marceline's crayon in he hand. The little girl was puzzled as to what she could possibly need help on. He held her wrist with one hand while grabbing the crayon with the other. "Now, you're holding it just fine, but here's a better version." He shifted the crayon so it rested on the webbing of her thumb. "Now pinch it here with these fingers. See, isn't that easier?"

"Mhmm, I don't know."

"This is how big kids hold their pens and pencils. Aren't you a big kid, Marcy?"

"Nah, I'm only six." At once, she shifted back to the whole hand method and began carving her way across the page, shaming the creations of a dead animator.

Mordecai sighed, "Well, I tried."

After her crude drawing alongside Simon's more astute depiction of an aristocrat blazed with complex colors and added garnmets, Marceline flipped through the pages until she found a "good" pattern.

"Uhh, Simon?"

"Uh huh?"

"Why is the carpet stooding?"

"Whaaaat?" Simon observed the page she was on. The picture was a cartoony version of one of the more recent pirate movies. All the pictures had simple, one sentence descriptions at the bottom. "Uh, where do you see a carpet?"

"Right here." She pointed to the sentence.

"There?"

"Yeah, it says carpet."

"Uhh, Marcy honey, that says Captain."

"No it doesn't. C-A-P-T, huh..."

Simon look inquisitively at her. "Marceline, can you read?"

"That's not fair!" Marceline shouted in a childish outburst, "I can too read!"

"Really? Then what does this say?" Mordecai challenged as he flipped the coloring book to a random page.

Marceline scanned the one sentence at the bottom. "The. Pr-pr-r-...-ri"

"Princess."

"Princess! Gets. Rady."

"Ready."

"That says Rady."

Simon responded, "No, that's not-...Read me the name off of this soup can." He grabbed the mentioned can off the table and held it in front of her.

"C-...Cke-"

"Shhhh, Shhhh," Mordecai emphasized.

"Chhhheeeeeffff, Chief!"

"That's 'Chef.' Marceline..."

"Well, IIIIII'm a good reader!" she pouted. "I can name aaaaall the letters of the alfababet."

"But you still need to work on sounding out words. And spelling. Hmm, maybe I can get Thomas to get some books next time they're out."

"But I don't wanna do that! Reading's no fun," Marceline said.

"Well it's something you have to do. You don't have school anymore, so I guess I'll have to do."

"But-"

"And no buts, sweetie. Not cuts, butts, no coconuts."

She giggled meekly at that saying. "Can we still get back to coloring?" Marceline asked.

"Hmm..." Mordecai contemplated.

"Please?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm..."

"Pleeeeeease!"

"HMMMMMMMMMMMMM..."

"Preeeety please?"

"Okay, fine."

At that moment, the hurried screech of car tires sounded outside. There was a lot of loud murmuring and yelling.

"What the heck?"

The truck came barreling across the streets. Swerving and scraping the pavement it rode with its desperate cargo in the trunk. Benson eyed the truck, growing nervous with each second.

The vehicle carefully, yet quickly working its way through the tight passages and corridors of debris and roadblocks. The truck came to a grinding halt inside the fortress.

Skips leaped out of the driver's door and sprinted to the passenger side. "Skips! What happened?!" Benson screamed in confusion as he ran to meet him. The immortal was assisting Starla and Fives carry down Muscle Man. By now, his shirt was almost entirely drenched red. Benson's face went pale at the sight of this.

He ran and grabbed his feet. Muscle Man shrieked in pain as his body twisted and leaned from being lifted from the truck. "Take him inside, let's go!" Benson ordered as they all ran towards the cafe with Fives following close behind.

CJ and Thomas ran from the bed of the truck. Margaret met them briefly, "What happened out there?" She went unheard as the two hurried down the stairs to the lower part of the coffee shop. Margaret shook her head in confused, worried defeat as she was the last to head downstairs..

"Clear the table!" Benson barked.

Thomas carefully picked up the scattered objects on the table before Mordecai shoved everything off at once with his outstretched arm. "What happened?!" Margaret continued to stammer down the stairs.

"F-F-F-Fuck if I know! These du-argh!" Muscle Man winced at the pain. Benson and Starla helped him onto the table.

"YEUAGRHGH! Stop! Stop! Just stop!" he pleaded as his side brushed across the table edge. Ignoring him, they continued until his back was fully on the table. He screamed even louder. Starla immediately reached for his hand, tightly holding it. Muscle Man gripped hers with such intensity that it began to turn red.

"What do we do?" Thomas asked.

"I need to know what happened!" Margaret shouted.

"Simon?!" Marceline called out.

Skips said to Simon, "Get her out of here. She shouldn't be seeing this."

"Come on Marcy," Simon said as he coaxed her out of the basement, "Let's go play I-Spy."

"Again?! But you always pick dirt and I always win!" she groaned.

"Guys, I'm willing to help, I just need to know what to do!" Thomas said.

Margaret was accidentally shoved to the back of the crowd, "Hey! What is happening?!"

"GEEAHHH"

"Just hang in there buddy," Fives said trying to calm Muscle Man down.

Frustrated, Thomas turned to another, "CJ! What do we do?!"

"I-I don't know!" she said tensing up. "I'm not a fucking doctor I don't know what to do!"

"FUCK!" Benson screamed. "Just! Gahh! I don't know what to do!" He cringed as his face turned red with stress and embarrassment.

Skips assumed command over what fleeting order there was, "CJ, check the supply room! Get bandages, disinfectant, whatever you think we need!"

"On it!"

"Guys! What do you need?!" Thomas continued.

"Thomas!" Skips exclaimed. "I know you want to help, but go upstairs. Too many people will make it harder to work."

"J-J-Just do what-hesaysbro-urgh!" Muscle Man piped in.

Thomas sighed shaking his head and angrily made his way up the stairs.

"You too Margaret!" Skips said.

"U-IUP-Would you guys just listen to me?! I think I can help I just need to know what happened!" the robin frustratingly replied.

There was a brief, second-long silence before Benson responded, "Gunshots. One in the right breast, in the stomach, and another lower left abdomen."

"Okay," she briefly replied as she made her way to the table, rolling up her sleeves.

"You know how to do surgery?" Fives asked curiously.

"Close, I did a paper on it once. Freshman year of college: midterm research project," she replied quickly. "Now..." she froze, gawking at the wound. Thick blood drenched through his shirt and spilled onto the table. Bits of flesh and skin stood gnarled and frayed in the places he was hit. The stench was overwhelming.

It all went straight to her stomach. The gore was too much to handle. She backed up, one hand on her stomach and the other to her forehead. "I-I-I can't," she said shaking.

"Margaret-!" Benson quickly pleaded.

CJ sprinted out of the storage room, "We don't have anything!"

"What?!"

"Nothing! We don't have anything!" she exploded.

Benson and Skips exchanged a quick, exasperated glance. "T-There's too much blood and I, just, I need a m-m-m," Margaret winced as she lent against the wall.

"Margaret, we need you! What do we do?!" Benson called to her. "We can't do this without you!"

CJ stood frozen in shock, unable to move or help. Skips held the green man down as he continued to thrash out in pain. Margaret closed her eyes as she made her way back to the table.

Finally, Starla acted. "Fuck this," she muttered as she removed her shirt and exposing her bra. She ripped her shirt in half. "Hold him down!" she ordered in haste.

Skips grabbed a bottle of water while the others held him down. He poured the water on the wounds to which Muscle Man screamed out in agony. "STOP! STOP! STOP!" he blurted out. Starla wrapped her shirt around his chest.

"STO-aghuhhhhhh, ghuuugghhhhh."

His breathing became extremely exasperated and tight. His chest was not heaving expanding normally and his body was shaking.

"What's going?!"

"MITCH!"

"Margaret, what's happening?!"

The robin froze up, "I-I..."

"Margaret?!" Benson pleaded.

"Pn-Pnumophyxation, I think."

"Which is?"

"H-His chest is filling up with air a-and it's putting pressure on his lung-

"aghuuhhh ghuugghhhhhHHUUU"

"So, what do we need?"

Margaret was cycling through her memory, systematically working her way through the steps.

"Margaret!"

"HURRY!" Starla pleaded.

"W-We need to get the air out, we need to open the-"

"How?!"

"I-I..."

"aghuuhhh ghuugghhh"

"HOW?!"

"By opening up his chest," Skips added.

Benson held out his hand, "Knife. Something small."

At once, CJ placed a pocket knife in his palm as everyone else held down Muscle Man. He opened up the small blade and put the tip on the side of Muscle Man's chest. Benson looked up at Margaret, "Are you sure?"

"Wh-a?"

"This could kill him, I need to know: Are you sure?!"

"I-I don't..."

"aghuuhhh ghuugghhhhhHHUUUUUUUUUUU"

"Someone do something!" Fives shouted

"Benson...!" Skips began.

"ARE YOU SURE?!"

"ghughghhhhhhUUUUUUU"

"BENSON!"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

At once, Starla put her hand over Benson's and forced the knife in.

"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Benson..."

"Benson...!" Rafael continued.

"I wanna talk to fucking Benson!"

It's been too goddamn long. Oh well. I'm sorry. I was caught up and without ideas. Now, after focusing a lot on ideas of free will and fate, I'm ready. I'm set. Everything is in motion.

Surprisingly, what really was the big "kick" was the Bioshock Infinite DLC, "Burial at Sea" I played the other day. I don't know why, but that game was just a big mental push when I first started. I always had ideas and wanted to write after playing it. I saw Eileen and Rigby as Booker and Elizabeth in a weird sort of way. The game did not really "influence" me or directly give me ideas, but it for some reason made me write. I have no idea why.

I am also currently rewriting EVERYTHING, especially in Part 1. I'm fixing all my errors and making everything feel a bit more natural without changing much. So far I just got to chapter 2, but if you see anything that could be fixed, let me know.

And if there are any of you out there still, please let me know what you think. I am always eager for feedback and hearing how I am doing and what can be improved.

However, I will be gone for the next week as I leave for vacation tomorrow and will not be back until next Sunday. I will not be able respond to any reviews or fix any errors I have until then.

Also, check out Chronicles of the Enchiridion Part 9, which is a compilation of one-shots/branch-off stories from the main series. The first one shot was just released today. Check it out!

I'll see you guys soon!