Hey, look. A chapter, late again.

Not to worry, it'll be over soon enough. Three chapters left. Maybe four if I consider doing an epilogue.

Right, let's get on with it. This is for you, Ghost. Bloody Vengence, Chapter 31: The Lone Officer

As the clock slowly ticked over to three in the morning, the last remaining officer of the Broadshore Island police force stood witin the police station sat at his desk, overlooking several transcripts of information on the police computer files. Dark thunder clouds stormed outside, rain avalanching down with lightening flashing with each passing minute as Rager scanned through one report after the other, the dull feel of a headache slowly forming within his mind as he flickered through the pages.

The files were extensive: The killer's deeds had run for a good long time. More than half the files on the computer system were in some way, shape, or form, connected to the Broadshore Butcher. Victims, methods, theories, anything and everything. No scrap of information, no matter how distrustful the source was, was abandoned. It would stand to reason that at least 40% of the information catalogued in the archives were fictionous, but as time went by police had gotten more desperate in apprehanding this induvidual and widened the bounds, so to speak. Someone in these files there was a fourteen-page report about the killer being a renagade Time Lord. Other notable entires included the speculation that the killer was a cyborg 'correcting' the island, or an evil batman, or at worst a focused Charlie Sheen and at best a disgruntled fanfic author. The list went on, the theories getting more and more outlandish as time passed. They were good for a laugh some of the time, but Rager had been considering deleting most of it off the system. There was a time and place for this stuff. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he needed the mainland's authorization to do so. And all that paperwork... Brrr.

Rager's hand drifted aimlessly through the word documents, at one point clicking on the Internet Explorer icon hopefully, only to get the familliar error message. Honestly, this place needed better internet connections. Rager glanced around the room, his eyes resting on a portrait of the Police Force, taken on New Year's a few years ago. Oscar and Ruffy were dancing around drunkenly, while Crack was - rather unsucessfully, might I add - flirting with a civillian. Where was Rager, you ask? Doing whisky shots in the background, knowing that this would be a night the police force would either look back and laugh at or really regret. Most likely the latter. Rager stared at the large picture, not even noticing a single tear falling down his face, until it popped against his hand. Tearing his eyes away from the photo, Rager wiped his eyes with a nearby handerchief, breathing out despair. He glanced at the screen, and noted with dim surprise that he had loaded up the 'Confirmed Victims' document, a document that was already unsettlingly too long. He scrolled to the end of the list, placed his fingers on the keyboard, and slowly, methodically, typed.

Name: Crack
Occupation: Broadshore Island Police Officer
Cause of death: Beheading
Comments: Died with honors

Name: Oscar
Occupation: Broadshore Island Police Officer
Cause of death: Gunshot wound
Comments: Died with honors

Name: Ruffy
Occupation: Broadshore Island Police Officer
Cause of death: Broken neck
Comments: Died with honors

The transmitter beside him buzzed. Immediately, Rager swept the radio into his free hand, answering it with a half-hearted "Officer Rager of the Broadshore Island Police Force." Some force, he's the only one left...

"Officer Rager, this is Leiutenant Julian Felon on the mainland. How are you holding up?"

"Horribly, Leiutenant."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Rager, really I am. Just checking, how many survivors are there, including you and your local police force?"

"Last time I checked, about... Seven."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"Seven. Four civillians, at least two killers, and the entire surviving Broadshore Police Force, ie me."

"You're the only officer left? What happened to Ruffy, Oscar, Crack?"

"He's... gone."

"Oh... You have my condolences."

"Thanks."

"That being said, I have some bad news. Concerning reinforcements... Due to the thick weather and the windy seas, neither helicopter nor motorboat will be able to leave the mainland and reach you until six am."

"Six am?!" Rager exclaimed, practically leaping out of his seat.

"That's only three hours, sir. You can last til then, right?"

"Three hours? More then eighty people have died in the last three days alone!"

"And I'm very sorry to hear that, I truly am, but until the weather subsides there's nothing we can do. Trust me, Rager, the second the weather clears we'll disembark, but until then you'll just have to wait it out."

"Alright. Fine. I'll get the civillians to a safe haven and wait for you guys."

"Good luck, Officer Rager. We'll be on our way as soon as possible."

With that note, the call ended. Rager very nearly threw the phone against the wall with barely-concealed rage, before thinking better of it and instead tucking the radio into his pants pocket. He took a final glance at the recently-edited Victim's List, before saing and closing the document. He glanced one final time at the clock, before grabbing a jacket and throwing it over his shoudlers, exiting the police station with haste.

The clock ticked over to 3:15am.

One way or another, this nightmare would end by sunrise.

As Flippy retreated to bed, shutting the door quietly behind him, Giggles glanced over her shoulder at Toothy, sitting shell-shocked against the door, more than likely having come very close to fainting out of pure fear. Dismissing Toothy's condidtion, Giggles walked past Flippy & Flaky's room to the next, knocking quietly against the door frame. The door creaked open slowly, as Petunia stuck her head out in confusion.

"Hi, Giggles. What's up?" Petunia mumbled, fighting back a tired yawn.

"Flippy tried to get some answers out of Toothy." Giggles explained.

Petunia raised an eyebrow. "What'd he find out?"

"Nothing. He nearly flipped out and murdered Toothy."

Petunia groaned. "I shouldn't be surprised, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."

"I know. Look, it's obvious Toothy's not going to be able to tell Flippy anything now. And you did want to ask Toothy some questions yourself earlier, so if you want, now's your chance."

"Why can't you ask him yourself?" Petunia pointed out.

Giggles merely crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Fair point. Alright, I'll see what I can find out. Wish me luck."

Giggles nodded, and Petunia brushed part her into the hallways. Her nerves bundling, she approached the handcuffed Toothy with mild unease, remembering how very close he came to slitting her throat and doing god-knows what else. Hearing her footsteps, Toothy glanced at her, his neutral expression turning into a grin. Petunia shuddered involuntarily.

"Hey... Toothy." Petunia said, forcing a smile onto her features. "How you doing?"

"Been better." Toothy remarked, glancing at his handcuffed wrist. "Though, all things considered, it could be worse."

"It... sure could." Petunia said, sitting herself down opposite Toothy. It dwelled upon her that, despite longing to find out why Toothy had tried to kill her, she hadn't made a definative plan of figuring that out. "Toothy, we need to talk..." Good start. Let's try some subtlety.

Toothy frowned. "Do we need to? Why can't we just sit here and enjoy each other's company?"

"Well, not to be blunt, but an hour ago you tried to kill me." Petunia pointed out. So much for subtlety.

Toothy blinked, rubbing the back of his head akwardly."Oh yeah, that."

"Look, Toothy, we've known each other for years. Hell, we went to the same schools and were friends for a long time."

"We... We were friends?" Toothy raised an eyebrow, surprise evident in his voice.

"We hung out together, didn't we? You, me, Cuddles, and Giggles. We helped each other through school, remember?"

"I... suppose we did. R... Remember our grade five science experiment? We accientally flooded the entire gymnasium!"

"Mr. Mondo was so mad! His face was so red I though he was going to explode!"

"Hehe, yeah. Fun times, fun times..." Toothy trailed off, reminiscing. "Petunia, do you know who I am?"

"You're Toothy."

"Yes, but apart from that? I'm nothing. Nobody. No-one. Barely anyone knows me, remembers me. Everyone just... forgets. Every time, every day, without fail. I'm an afterthought, a footnote, treated like a godamned shadow!" A flash of anger swept across Toothy's features, and he elbowed the wall behind him in a short fit of rage.

The beaver was quiet for som seconds, facing the floor. Petunia bit he lip, considering whether to ask he if was okay, but Toothy's voice continued before she could.

"And..." He added, looking up. "And I was afraid. So, so afraid. I was... terrified, of being left behind, completely forgotten about. So when that... man came to me with an idea, to stamp my name forever into the history books, the ensure I would never be forgotten... I made a choice. If this is how people will remember me, so be it."

Petunia blinked. "But... But that's insane!" She protested. "Agreeing to flat-out murder a dozen of your closest friends, because you didn't want to be forgotten? That's just wrong!"

"Oh, of course YOU would say that!" Toothy snapped, and Petunia took an involuntary step back from the outburst. "Little miss popular, everybody likes you! No-one ever forgets about you, you're always top of the list! You're not always forced into the background, overlooked, or forgotten! Meanwhile over here they can barely recall my name, let alone my birthday or anything about me!"

Shaking with rage, Toothy fell silent, gritting his teeth. A lengthy silence reigned, until Petunia shifted forward.

"April 26th."

Toothy looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Your birthday, April 26." Petunia explained. "No matter what you think, Toothy, we don't forget about our friends. I'm sorry you've somehow turned into this murderous savage of a being, and you're just going to have to trust me when I say this, but you are our friend, and to us, you'll always be somebody. Especially to me."

With that note, Petunia enveloped the confused beaver with a reassuring hug.

After a moment of consideration, Toothy returned the hug.

With the rain thundering down on him, Rager stepped out the front door of the police station, one hand holding his treasured police hat to his head. He jogged to his police cruiser, wrenching the door open and ducking inside. Switching on the ignotion, he peered through the windscreen, and paused.

The car headlights illuminated a figure on the road.

Frowning, Rager grabbed a flashlight from his pocket and exited the vehicle. His free hand tapping against his holstered pistol, he flicked the torch on and steadily stepped forward.

"This is Officer Rager, of the Broadshore Island Police Force." He shouted above the wind. "Stay where you are!"

If the figure head any word of Rager's command, it showed no signs of hearing it.

Rager approached the figure, his frown growing as he came closer. Why wasn't it moving? Lightening flashed, breifly illuminating the area, and Rager froze.

The figure was the mangled corpse of Rufft, and he was not alone. On either side of Ruffy stood the headless Crack, and the bloodied Oscar, all strung up by on wooden cross each.

"Godamnit." Rager swore, fury fighting beneath his frame. "Killing them wasn't enough?! You had to desecrate their corpses too?!" He shouted, not even sure if the Butcher was still here to hear him. "If I find you before backup gets here there won't be anything left of you!"

"I doubt that."

Rager spun, unclasping his pistol and pointing it and the flashlight at the new voice.

From the shadows, another figure emerged. It's blue coat illuminated by the light, he stepped into the clearing and paused a few steps away from Rager.

"Nice night, isn't it?" The Broadshore Butcher noted.

"You shut your mouth and put your hands where I can see them!" Rager demanded.

"Yeah, no." The Butcher shook his head playfully, strolling from side to side as if he were on a sunday walk. "Do you like my art?" He asked, nodding at the corpses of Rager's three ex-co-workers.

"Art?" Rager repeated. "ART?! YOU CALL THAT SHIT ART, YOU MISERABLE FUCKER?! YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I SHOOT YOU WHERE YOU STAND!"

"It must feel powering, doesn't it, to know that you personally sent each of your co-workers to their graves, both direct and indirectly."

"I'M WARNING YOU!"

"Let's recap; Crack died when I beheaded him, after YOU sent him to mount some cameras, and fat lot of good those did. Ruffy got his neck snapped when you refused to call off your backup. And Oscar, well... That was a fun night, wasn't it?"

Rager cocked the pistol. "LAST CHANCE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"

The Butcher scoffed. "Please. We both know you won't shoot me. It's against protocal."

Rager paused for a second. "Fuck protocal." He replied, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet missed by mere inches as the Butched indistinctivly ducked.

"First shot was a warning, second won't be."

"Alright, Rager, you've made your point." The Butched admitted, raising his hands. "I'll put my hands in the air. Perhaps I should wave them as if I didn't have any cares."

Something glinted in the flashlight's glow, and Rager tok a step forward. "What's that?" He demanded, shining the light at the Butcher's left hand.

"Oh, this?" The Butched looked at his hand, smirking. "It's nice, isn't it? A little failsafe I put together a few days ago." He shook the item in his grasp; a portable switch. "Once I press this button on top here, the second I let go, that hospital where all your friends are resting? It gets blow to shit, Rager! One wrong step, and there goes all your witnesses. So, here's the plan: You toss your gun over to me. I don't blow the hospital to kingdom come. We'll talk from there."

Rager stepped back. "You're bluffing!"

The Butcher raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to put that theory to the test? Throw that weapon over unless you want to see a marvellous fireworks display."

Rager wavered, considering, before sighing and throwing the gun at his nemisis. The lead weapon thudded against the ground before his enemy, who smiled. "That's good. A real breakthrough. You can tell your friends to evacuate that building if you want."

Wary, Rager reached for the portable radio clipped to his belt. "Flippy, it's Rager, you there?"

There was a breif silence before Flippy answered, in a voice that sounded sleepy and tired. "Yeah. What is it?"

"Get out of the building."

"What?"

"The hospital, it's primed to explode, get out of there!"

"That's enough." The Butched said, and Rager hung up before Flippy could reply. "Now that they're scared, it gets better." And he raised the hand containing the detonator in the air.

"You said you'd let then evacuate!" Rager shouted.

"No, I said you could TELL them to evacuate the building. Doesn't mean I'm letting them leave alive."

Rager charged, tackling down the Butcher, but it was too late.

The detonator beeped twice, and across the island, a loud bang echoed.

"Rager? Rager? SHIT!" Flippy sat up, jumping out of bed and quickly throwing on his army jacket. Beside him, Flaky yawned, and blinked.

"Flippy? What's wrong?" She asked, sleepily.

"We need to get out."

"Wha-why?" Suddenly aware of the panic on Flippy's face, Flaky felt more alert.

"Because it's wired to blow! We need to get out, NOW!" Flippy shouted, spurring Flaky into action. Grabbing her by the wrist, he led her out the door into the third-floor hallway, where Petunia sat next to Toothy, the two deep in some conversation. "Petunia, we have to go, where's Giggles?" Under other circumstances, Flippy probably would've chatcised Petunia for disobeying his orders and talking to Toothy, but recent events demanded more attention.

"What? She's down the hall, looking out the observatory window." Petunia answered, standing up.

"Giggles!" Flippy bellowed down the hall.

"What?" From a room at the end of the hall, Giggles answered, poking her head at the door. "What's happening?"

It was at that exact moment all hell broke loose.

An earsplitting BANG erupted from somewhere beneath the hopsital, and everyone fell to the floor as the ground shook beneath them. The floor cracked, splitting apart as explosions ravaged it within. The lights hanging from the cieling shook, the tension ripping them from their posts and they fell to the floor, shattering. Smoke began to fill the hallway, along with a fire alarm beeping from somewhere down the hall, as fire quickly crept through the hospital.

In no time at all, the entire ground floor was on fire.

Flippy got to his feet, shaking. "Everyone alright? Flaky? Petunia?"

"I... I'm okay. I think." Flaky replied as Flippy helped her up, a hand against her head. "One-one of the lights must've hit me when it fell."

"Let me look." Flippy said, brushing Flaky's hair out of the way so he could asess the damage. A particularly nash gash was split across Flaky's forehead, a steady stread of blood pouring out of it.

"It's not too bad, is it?" Flaky asked, immediately before fainting. Flippy caught her, and heaved her onto his shoulder. "Not good, not good. Petunia?"

"I'm fine, if shaken." Petunia replied, before turning to Toothy. "Toothy, you okay?"

"Y... Yeah. I'm fine."

Flippy frowned, before glancing down the hallway. "Giggles! You alr..." He trailed off as he saw a burnt body where Giggles had been standing only moment before, incinerated the very instant the bombs started exploding.

"We need to get out." Flippy said.

Beneath them, with fire growing within, the building shook as it began to crumble apart.

Rager rolled to his feet as suddenly a far-off building on the horizon disappeared with an ear-splitting bang, and a firey splash. Before Rager could fully comprehand the starburst, he was struck with a wild blow to the side of the head, sending him sprawling. The Butcher eased himself to his feet, staring at the now-burning hospital with an almost-childish-like expression of glee on his face. He laughed, a triumphant, echoing laugh, pointing at the inferno far off with a hand.

"See that? Look at that! That is, if I may say so myself, beautiful. Most definately a work of art."

Rager replied, not with words, but with a sharp kick to the side f the Butcher's knee from his position on the ground. The Butcher stumbled, and Rager quickly pounced, tackling the Butcher to the ground. Before The Butcher could comprehend this, Rager was quickly unloading with hard lefts and rights into the Butcher's face, a fury never quite seen before in his eyes. The Butcher involuntarily cried out, his nose shattering under the force of one particularly heavy blow. Blood spewed forth from his nose, The Butcher, thinking on his feet, did the simplest efense he could think of.

He avoided one punch, and jammed his thumb into Rager's left eye socket.

Thin, gooey tentrils of blood quickly began pouring out of Rager's eye, who quickly leapt back before his eye could be ripped out. The Butcher rolled to his feet, quickly manning a battle stance as one hand closed around his holstered combat knife. With blood slowly steaming out his left eye, Rager snatched up his police issue pistol, quickly aiming it and pulling the trigger.

By sheer luck, the first bullet missed The Butched by an inch.

The second bullet, however, tore off his right ear.

By then The Butcher had attacked, barely aware he was now missing an ear, and slashed the knife at Rager, who stepped back just a second too late. The gun cluttered out of his hands, thankfully taking the brunt f the slash, but The Butcher is if anything, relentless. He quickly kneed Rager hard in the stomach, before grabbing him by the hair and throwing him at the police cruiser windshield. Rager's back thudded against the windshield, shattering the plexiglass, and Rager fell across the front seats uncomfortably. Before he could fully recuperate, however, The Butcher lent in through what used to be the windshield and grabbed Rager by the scruff of his neck, the knife ready in the other.

Either by luck, or sheer instinct, Rager stomped down on the gas pedal.

The car suddenly rocketed forward, and The Butcher lost his grip on the knife in the surprise. Seizing the chance, Rager punched The Butcher in the side of the neck, stunning him temporarily. With his radio pinning the accelerator to the floor, the car was gaining speed at an astounding pace. Rager threw another punch, this one sinking into The Butcher's stomach. The Butcher let out a painful groan, very nearly slipping off the hood and into the speeding tires. When Rager tried for another punch, The Butcher managed to catch this one, and throw Rager out onto the hood with him. With the wind whipping at them and the driverless car speeding down the dirt road, Rager tried to find grip on the slippery hood, but The Butcher hit him with something long and hard - Rager's own police baton. The blow caught Rager in the jaw, and he fell backwards, nearly off the hood and into the speeding tires below, saving himself only by grabbing the hood ornament. His legs dangling beheath him, Rager pulled himself up, but The Butcher shent out a sharp kick, crushing Rager's fingers against the ornament. Rager's grip faltered, and The Butcher kicked again, the ornamanet now bending at an unsafe angle.

"This is how your story ends, Officer Rager!" The Butcher bellowed above the winds. "Failiure! I'll be sure to attend your funeral, if only to make sure you're dead!"

Then, before Rager could retort, the Butcher unleashed a last, powerful kick, breaking the hood ornament and subsequently Rager's grip, sending the last remaining police officer over the hood of his own speeding cruiser.

Rager fell right into the path of the speeding tires, having only a split seconds worth of panic before the front right tyre sped over, and subsequently crushed, his ribcage. The rear tyre doubled the damage, and Rager tumbled to a stop on the dirt ground, with a bloodied eye, bruised body, and a caved-in chest.

And that is how Officer Rager of the Broadshore Island Police Force spent his last few seconds on earth. With a body boken and mangled beyond repair, Rager breathed out sharply, his eyes wide, before finally, he relaxed as death overtook him.