Gray Stewart studied Evil and after ascertaining his sincerity, she decided to trust him.
She tucked the pendant inside her jeans’ front pocket. “This is what we’ll do,” she started. “You’ll have to---”
Gray’s sentence was interrupted when they heard approaching footsteps. Realizing that she was out in the open, she reached for the door and hid once again on the other side of the room. She locked the door and listened intently with bated breath.
“What are you still doing here? I told you to get rid of it already.” It was Ronald’s voice. “Are you that stupid, huh? Can’t you do one simple order?” His voice rose, almost shouting.
THUD!
Gray jolted as a thudding sound hit the door.
I forgot to write a note on the previous page because I was in a hurry lol. Fun fact, I actually made nicknames for all my classmates back in high school. I'm bad at remembering actual names, that's why hehe. What about you? Do you also make weird nicknames for people?
Gray Stewart’s complexion turned pale as her eyes met Fakey McBaldy. Likewise, he was also just as surprised when he saw her. “T-there’s someone here!” he shouted, pointing his trembling hand to her. While he was still under confusion, Gray pulled out her stuck foot so hard, her shoe fell off. With one less shoe, she squeezed her body out of the set of tanks and sprinted on the side aisle. She had only one way to go; the door. As she sprinted without looking back, she could hear clamoring and the breaking of bottles, as well as vehement footsteps. “Catch her! Shoot! Faster!” were the words she could pick up in the middle of escaping. Almost reaching the knob of the door, she heard a gunshot promptly followed by a hole on
BANG! BANG! BANG! The children held captive together with Zia Scott had started throwing a fuss to the series of gunfire heard from beyond the tunnel. “You stay here. Guard the kids,” said a man with a strange mohawk hairstyle and went away. “What is happening outside?” thought Zia to herself. “Nooooo! So noisyyyyy! Mommyyyyy!” cried a little boy behind her. “I’m scaaaaared! Dadddddyyyyy!” bawled another one. “Shut the fuck up!” roared the guard seated on his chair with the gun on his hand, resting on his lap. Zia anxiously glanced at him who seemed to have tightened his grip on the gun. She looked behind her.
“Are you lost, darling?” Even though Gray Stewart could not see the face of the person behind her due to the utter darkness embracing the room, she was certain as to whom the voice belonged to. It was Undertaker’s. Winter was still a few weeks away, but her body was already frozen. There was adequate air for her to breathe in, but she felt suffocated. It was dark, but she could clearly see death waving its hand toward her. It took a few seconds for her horrified bones to finally move. However, as she attempted to move, he had already gripped on her wrist. “Fuck,” she thought to herself as she looked behind her, to her wrist who had been caught by a shark’s mouth. His long nails were slowly drilling deep into her skin. Her face contorted as she silently whimpered.
As Gray Stewart boldly announced herself, she turned the heads of the five remaining adversaries. The four were glaring daggers at her while Undertaker, in the far back, looked relaxed with a mysterious sneer planted on his face. As soon as she met their eyes, they altogether charged towards, pointing their knives to the unarmed Gray. Fakey McBaldy was leading the three. Gray maintained her composure and remained unfazed. And right when Fakey was already in front of her, she lifted legless wooden table lying on the floor beneath her with the use of her right foot. She lifted it the same way she would lift a soccer ball before juggling it. As she lifted it, it was surprisingly lighter than she thought so she was able to do so successfully. When the top of the table was already lined with her eyes, she used one of the kicking techniques she learned in taekwondo
Failing her one chance at an escape due to Undertaker’s keen eyes, Gray Stewart was once again surrounded by the four. And unlike the previously unfair 4 to 1 fight, she was now armed. She pulled the knife that Undertaker planted on the wall and used it to defend herself. With her desperate actions to evade their attacks, they were now standing on the center aisle. On the other hand, Undertaker had brought one chair to the door and sat quietly, spectating the fight. When Gray took a quick glance at the door, Fakey and Ursula simultaneously thrusted their knives toward her stomach by which she dodged by impulsively slouching her back and changing the direction of their knives using the one she was using. It looked as if she was trying to shoo a roach away with her knife. Obviously, she was inexperienced when it came to using weapons. She may have won countless brawls when she was younger, but never had she
Gray Stewart froze as the explosive sound echoed in her ears. She could not take her quivering eyes off of Undertaker. Precisely speaking, she could not take her eyes off of the muzzle of his gun pointed toward her. But most of all, the one thing that devoured her sanity was the excruciating pain she was feeling on her chest. It was a single jab, but venomous. An electric drill moving at Mach 9. She had just been poked with a scalpel without the benefit of anesthesia. She could not breath—a familiar feeling. A nostalgic pain caused by getting punched in the solar plexus. A powerful punch in the gut would always make her gasp for breath next if not knocked out. But she wasn’t even gasping. With her pale lips gaped, she had forgotten how to breathe. She suddenly forgot what oxygen was. She had forgotten its existence. Her mind went blank. The popular conception of life flashing before your eyes must have be
After Gray Stewart made a declaration, she looked down on Fakey and Tentacle’s immobilized body. She took the two knives beside them then she slowly walked to the center aisle, right across the door where Undertaker stood. “Sir!” she called out to him. “How about a tasty one-on-one match?” She held one finger up over her face. “How about it?” She halted at the center of the aisle, right across Undertaker on the other side of the room. She stood at attention like a soldier and clasped both hands behind her with the knives. She was aiming to look as docile as possible. “Would you heed my request?” she slightly tilted her head. “Sir?” Truth be told, her legs were trembling underneath her pants. Death was practically right in front of her. She had two knives, but what fight could she put up against someone with a gun? She was just death waiting to happen. However
With every step Undertaker took, Gray’s feet would involuntarily step back. It was like seeing your bride walk down the aisle with a flower bouquet in hand, only it was death walking down with his scythe. She was troubled. Her legs were frozen but her feet wanted to step back. ‘He who strikes first, wins’, but even if she wanted to, she could barely move a muscle. “No good, no good,” she whispered to herself, gripping on the other knife behind her. If she wouldn’t be able to calm herself down, she wouldn’t be able to fight back. All those fighting experiences would be futile. Gritting her teeth, she pushed her feet forward. Her step felt heavy. Her trembling legs gave her the impression that her legs would give in the moment she’d lower her guard. One…two…three steps, slowly reducing the distance between