A bit of a short update, but still an update! It's good to be back…

Swearing and violence in this chapter (oh, the joys…)

"Let me go, let me go!" Myra screamed, struggling futilely against the hands pinning her own arms back, as the last of the Remnant hosts dragged Fletcher over the barricade. "Let me help!"

"There's nothing you can do," Skulduggery roared back, dragging the petite woman out of the range of the gunshots that were being fired hazardously at the Remnants as they climbed. "He's too far away for us!"

"I can go." The young, handsome man who Myra vaguely knew, a mortal like herself - Gerald? - pushed his way through the throng of people. "I can run out and get him."

His companion, the one who constantly bossed him about, shook his head furiously. "No way in hell are you doing that. Are you joking? You barely know him and it's too much of a chance."

Myra tore herself away from the skeleton's grip, falling painfully on her knees as she clutched at Gerald's hands. "Please, please, oh God, please –" She sobbed incoherently. She was dimly aware of Gerald's friend looking at him in mild panic but she was too far gone to care. "I love him! Please help him!"

Skulduggery shook his head. "Myra, these men are certainly not fit enough to –"

"He can't go, he's nothing but a boy." Ghastly had pushed his way through, a look of determination on his face, while Gerald looked furious.

"A boy?"

"Compared to the likes of me, yes. I'll go."

Scapegrace immediately shook his head. "No, Bespoke, you can't. You're an Elder. People here need you."

"And I'm a mortal guy who no one cares about, and everyone here needs Fletcher Renn." Gerald pointed out. "So I can at least try."

"No!"

"If no one's protesting," A cheerful voice spoke up as Clarabelle emerged from behind Gerald with a grin. "I volunteer!" With that, the delightful strange young woman turned on her heel and began to clamber up on the drastically battered barricade.

"Ding!" Gerald shouted at the departing figure, "Don't you dare!"

"Clarabelle, get back here!" Skulduggery roared, sliding his revolver from its holster. "Go, get after her! It's suicide!"

Scapegrace and Gerald needed no hesitation; they both sprinted towards their friend, clambering up after her as Myra desperately followed. This kind, spirited - admittedly odd - girl was risking her life to save her boyfriend. There was no way she'd be able to duck out of the way of Darquesse's fire. No way at all.

"Please, Clarabelle!" She stopped at the foot of the barricade, where Clarabelle was now unsteadily balancing on. "Come back! It's too dangerous!"

"Ding!" Gerald yelled desperately, "Please!"

Clarabelle turned her head with another smile. "Don't be silly, Gerald. I know exactly what I'm –"

A gunshot sounded from the other side of the barricade – the Remnants fighting back - and Myra screamed, though Clarabelle managed to duck in the nick of time. The blue haired woman took a deep breath, before shakily raising herself up again, laughing. "Doing." She finished.

"Clarabelle." Scapegrace growled, as he continued to climb up after her. "This is not funny. Not funny at all. We need you on Medical, remember?"

Her smile dropped. "But Scapey, Fletcher's my friend. I'd do the same for you."

"You shouldn't. Leave it to the soldiers." He tried, reaching a hand out as he neared. "Clarabelle, listen to me, you can't –"

"This gives a good name to woman everywhere.' Clarabelle giggled, as she turned to proceed climbing down the other side of the barricade. She batted Gerald's hand away when he tried to grab her arm. "Girl power! Crazy girl power, as some people would say about me..."

"Ding, don't..."

"And you know the thing about crazy girls, boys?" Her eyes twinkled, "We have the strength of all you soldiers put together and we'll never give u –"

A gunshot resounded again, only this time it hit its target. Clarabelle convulsed and Myra was screaming again, everyone was screaming. The spirited blue haired girl stared in surprise at the dark rosettes of blood spreading across her brown dress. "Gerald...? Vaurien?"

"Fuck." Scapegrace snapped, leaping over to grab her as her grip loosened but he was too late by a few narrow seconds. The woman gave a deep, drawn out moan as her weakened body gave up. Her hands lost their grip altogether and she plummeted down...down...

"Find Sanguine!" Skulduggery ordered furiously, shoving past Myra as she sank to the floor in yet more tears. "Get him to bury to the other side and get her!"

"You have someone who can bury through the ground?" Myra's voice rose uncontrollably as Gerald landed next to her, his face pale and his eyes glistening. "You have someone who can do that and you didn't let HIM get Fletcher?"

"Never mind your boyfriend." Scapegrace landed heavily next to Gerald, his face pale too. "One thing at a time, girl, yeah? For God's sake, Thrasher, shut up. I'm getting Sanguine, you get Dr. Nye ready, alright? Hey!" He grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Snap out of it, or it really will be too late!"

Gerald blinked back at him, before nodding. "Got it." He breathed back, and Scapegrace turned and left for Sanguine immediately.

"Listen." Skulduggery's fingers gripped painfully into Myra's shoulders. "Sanguine is a dangerous man, who only thinks of himself. There was no way he'd get Fletcher for you - but he has a soft spot for Clarabelle. If she's still alive, she'll make him get Fletcher too, you understand? You –" He turned to Gerald, "Do what he said and Dr. Nye, tell him his assistant has fallen. Tell him to get ready to do the operation of his pathetic life."

"I can't let her die, Detective. She's my best friend. My only friend."

"Then you'd better get running to the Doctor." Skulduggery told him, before continuing to drag Myra. "Out the way, come on."

"This – is – your fault!" She shrieked back. "If you'd just killed that poisonous cow before she turned into a World Breaker!"

Skulduggery muttered something under his breath, successfully pulling her into the Medical Bay, which was already crowded by terrified people. Dr. Nye was organising a bed, presumably for Clarabelle, and Tanith shoved forward.

"Why the hell would Sanguine go and help her?" She was yelling. "He's a selfish bastard! He won't help, he'll just burrow away somewhere like the coward he is! We need him fighting against the Remnants!"

"We should just throw you out." Myra whispered, staring straight at her. "You're the reason they're here. Remnant. One of them."

"No I'm not!"

"Men and women are risking their lives fighting against them, but it's you Darquesse wants. Her little pet." Myra pointed straight at her. "Throw her out."

"I'd be fighting too, if Ghastly hadn't hidden my sword away!" Tanith snapped back furiously, then glowered at all the people. "And if you even try and throw me out there, defenceless in my fucking wedding dress, you've got another think coming, I swear to God…"

"The dress is exquisite." China murmured, from the corner of the Medical Bay, away from all the commotion.

"Thank you." Tanith breathed back. "Now, my husband's out there. Clarabelle's probably dead –"

"Unlikely." Dr. Nye spoke up. "I will be able to save her, presuming she is brought to me in enough time."

"Alright, then. And Fletcher's been taken. So if we could all just calm down, stop yelling and blaming me, and instead focus on the important things, that'd be grand."

There was a silence, and then Skulduggery nodded. "I'm with Tanith. Everyone needs to keep themselves in order here." He held onto his revolver, and adjusted his hat with his free hand. "I'm going out there to fight, not that there are any objections. Stay sane, everyone."

"Thank you, dear. Your reassurance knows no bounds." China smiled, standing up and smoothing her dress down. "May I offer some assistance? You could use my skills, I'm sure."

Skulduggery observed her for a moment, before shrugging. "If you'd like."

"Splendid!" China smiled delicately, pushing by some crying young girls. "After you then, my dear Skulduggery."

XxX

"I'm meant to get the girl and the Teleporter?" Sanguine snapped as he and Scapegrace dodged past the fighting people and ran up to where the barricade was.

"If you wouldn't mind." Scapegrace panted back. "But focus on Clarabelle. She was shot, badly, and we have to get her."

"Hold up, zombie." Sanguine snorted. "We? I ain't taking you too. I got enough to do!"

Scapegrace simply grabbed onto his arm and waited expectantly. They looked at each other for a while, until Sanguine groaned. "Ugh, whatever, but you're in the firing line."

"Sure."

"Nice suit you're wearin'. Sure you want your blood to ruin it?"

"Clarabelle is going to die if you don't get over yourself and start burrowing." Was the only response. "Besides, I hate suits, and I was forced to wear one because of the whole wedding, which incidentally you almost ruined, but we can discuss that later when my only friend isn't dying."

Sanguine looked at him for a moment, before he started burrowing. It was tense, claustrophobic, and way too dark, but eventually they emerged on the other side, Scapegrace coughing and wheezing. Sanguine automatically saw the young woman, sprawled out and bleeding heavily, unconscious. She'd be lucky to last the night.

Regardless, he hurried over to her, grabbing onto her and gesturing for Scapegrace to come over too. The man started to approach, but one of the Remnant-hosts grabbed onto him, pushing him to the ground. Sanguine didn't have a chance. Besides, if it was between Clarabelle and Vaurien Scapegrace, he sure knew who he'd rather have return to the barricade.

"Sorry, man!" He yelled, holding Clarabelle more securely. "But you're in the firin' line!"

Scapegrace tried to kick the person off of him, reaching for his gun as he turned his head to find Sanguine already burrowing away. "Bastard! Motherfu –" He swore viciously, before finally shoving the person off of him and getting a better grip on the revolver in his pocket. His hands were shaking too much. He wasn't going to get out of this.

"I asked for this one." He muttered, before firing two shots into the man's chest. The Remnant-host staggered back, screeching, alerting many others to notice what was happening. No, no, no, he was a dead man walking. And he'd already been through that.

He turned and ran ahead, deciding if he was going to die he might as well try and find Fletcher Renn while he was at it. Whenever a Remnant-host tried to grab him, he fired another bullet wildly in the hope it'd either scare them off – if only – or meet its target. Bullets were fired in return, but he managed to dodge most of them, except one that hit his shoulder.

He yelled loudly in pain, clutching it automatically, which only made him yelp even more. "Motherfucking – shit! Ow!" He wheezed, spinning around and brandishing his gun. "Try that again! C'mon!"

He was pretty much surrounded by them now and he dropped to his knees in exhaustion holding both his hands up. "Don't try it again…"

A woman giggled, black veins spreading across her face. "He's funny. Darquesse will love him."

"No, she won't." He insisted. "She really, really won't, I'm a complete dick…"

His arms were grabbed and he was hauled painfully to his feet, his gun left abandoned on the ground. "Well, look at it this way." The woman purred. "If she doesn't, we can always kill you."

"Fun for the family." Scapegrace muttered back, before he began to get dragged away.

He was going to kill William-Raymond Sanguine, providing he lived long enough.