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It was useless now. There was no avoiding it. She had visited Stormy, her beautiful friend with her body broken and scraped. Anger had come at the mark of the broken mask, how it had no use. Stormy and Otto and Abbi and Jake and Sherry had failed.

She felt the angry burst, the crumbling in her hands and in her heart. There was no hope. She had pushed past Ian, pushed past the infirmary. She couldn't look at Otto even, as he had laid in the bed.

She was going to die. It was inetivable. The paper demanding her return to duty felt like the death signature. It was heavy and scary and she was just so tired. Just so tired.

She stood outside the gates of the portal to the Haunted house, there was no tears anymore, because she couldn't cry for anything.

She had told Otto that she was going, and what time. And that was it. She'd wait for him, and if he came, she'd survive another day...and if he didn't....she had left the letters for Stormy to find, and to give to those who mattered the most to her.

What was she doing? Where did she think she was going? Out of all the dreams they had been forced to see has reality, this was one dream he wasn't ready to let go of. He wouldn't accept that Nevada had to die. He wouldn't allow her to go somewhere so dangerous on her own. Not without her shield. Her weapon.

Intend on keeping Nevada alive for as long as possible, Otto hurried for the Haunted House. He found her outside it. He steadied his breathing, having ran the whole way.

"Don't be stupid." He huffed as he finally stood by her side.

It seemed like he had been wandering the Haunted Houses hallways forever, or perhaps it had only been a single hall, as now that he thought about it more, he could never quite recall it ever giving him a chance to turn, or even, for that matter, any doorways to enter. There had been a few, but when he tried them, they were locked.

He tried not to get frustrated, however. The house was simply an oddity, but it had welcomed him in. It had appeared for him, which to him meant that there must be something here for him.

He hoped very much that there would be.

He continued on, in silence save for the constant light scraping of his skeletal foot against the floorboards. There was something here for him, he knew that there must be, and that he just needed to be patient.

Suddenly, a sound, and it was like the house had suddenly shifted without moving at all, and with it, everything changed. He paused in his steps, head tilting to one side.

There was a door, it's colour a stark contrast to all those he had previously seen and against the house itself. Purple, bright and gaudy. But that wasn't what really interested him. No, it was the voices he could hear, and the faint scent in the air, one that drew from within him a powerful hunger.

Human. Hunter. More then one? A challenge for him, then. One he might not be able to overcome, but not enough to deter him.

He crept along the hallway, and his rotting fingers reached for the door, curling around its edge before pulling it open, and staggering into the view of whoever was waiting on the other side.

She'd remember that. The moment Otto, injured and hurting put himself in front of her. Protected her. Tenya was the shield, Otto the armor, and Nevada the soft flesh underneath. It was hard not to shudder, when she saw the creature join them in the room. A student, she would guess. A student who could be turned away if it was Otto.

She'd remember feeling fear pitted in her stomach, and it mixed with relief as Otto was there. She could be strong, she wouldn't fight. Otto was smarter, braver then her. She'd live for another day.

It was a delusion in her mind, to think here in the haunted house it would be anything but that. It was a hope she thought had been snuffed when she took the pieces of the black and white mask and brought her face to find nothing would change.

It was insanity to keep thinking that these thoughts would keep her alive. To think if she relied on everyone else, it would keep her alive.

And the Haunted house was a fickle mistress to death, some days it would feed, encourage. Some days it would end peaceful, leaving the reaper of souls hungry and wanting. Waiting.

The ground quaked underneath them, loosing Nevada's grip from Otto as the room tilted, sliding them down into the very belly of it. The door disappeared completely now, as the haunted house shook, the lights blacked out, covering them in darkness as heavy as possible.

It was a fickle mistress, but today it would satisfy death it seemed.

When the lights returned, Otto would find himself on the far right of the room, while Nevada and Alex were on the left, the curling grey of fog lingering on Alex's side. The halloween creature was too close, to close to her as she scrambled with all her might back to Otto's side.

She should've known, she should've guessed this would happen, as she ran into something solid, knocking her back in shock. Her hands reached out, touching something invisible, but solid. A wall.

A wall the haunted house to build. it groaned one last time as silence took over, eerie and quiet. the fog lifting up the wall, but never moving past it.

On one side of the wall was Otto, and the other was Nevada, hands pressed against it with fear written all over her face.

"No..OTTO!" She hit her fist up against the wall, "Otto no, Otto please. Otto. Please don't leave me, Please!!!"

No matter how she pounded, no matter how she screamed, the wall did not break or disappear.

And the hair stood on her neck as she looked over her shoulder facing the zombie creature with her. With no escape.

The house was a fickle creature, others would comment. It had bathed in blood of hunters, and the insanity fog that curled along it's floor and walls. It had tasted the dissipation of fear from students, stood strong when it was invaded and it's home threatened.

The house was a fickle creature.

Who had he been expecting? Likely just unknown faces as he'd hardly ever run into the same hunter more then once. He'd have liked to believe that was because they died in the line of action before he got a chance to see them again, but something told him that was just wishful thinking. No, these hunters never seemed to just die did they? He was sure that they could but it seemed to be quite a difficult process, their weapons giving them strength, guarding them with a shield.

If only he could tear that shield down. If only he could really sink his teeth into their flesh and tear them apart one by one.

The faces he encountered were both unfamiliar and familiar, as there was one that he did recognize, and one that he did not. It was the one that he did recognize that he found himself focusing on, his pale eyes narrowing, his lips twitching up just slightly.

"I remember you." He said, and soon that small smile was spreading into a vicious grin, one that showed off teeth, stained, slightly decayed, but a full set nonetheless. "I remember how good you taste." That was not quite true, as their annoying shields tended to block him from really doing much, but it was still fun to say, still enjoyable to watch them squirm in disgust.

And then, just one word. "No." And he began to step forward, because that was what he was here for, after all, to fight, to hurt them.

That's when the house began to shake beneath his feet, the room tilting, and a moment of surprise lit up his gaze as he thought what is this, some hunter trick? before the lights went out, leaving them in darkness, leaving him to fall to the floor with a hard thud and a grunt of pain as he scrambled to grab on to something, anything.

The lights flickered back on. Otto was on the other side of the room, and close, so agonizingly close, was the other. The woman. Fog swirled around them, a familiarity, but one that he feared. He knew what that fog could do.

It could whisper to him, and it did. It could call him to a place called home.

Pushing himself to his own feet, he turned in a circle, the fog enclosing around him, calling to him, enticing him like it had done once before. It reminded him of a time when he had experienced more pain, of a time when he had tried to help but it had done him no good. Of a time when he had given himself as a sacrifice to make a change, but no change had come.

It was enough to drive him crazy, a madness full of incomprehensible rage.

"No!" He yelled at the fog. "Stop!" His hands were held out at his sides, fingers curled into claws. "Stop it!"

And then he turned, slowly, realizing that there were still other voices to attend to. The hunters, still in the room with him. The ghoul...she had gone back to Otto, but something was wrong. Something was.....Oh.

He took a few staggering steps towards where they stood, separated, by something. Reaching for each other, but unable to close the distance. His head was tilted to the side as he stumbled that direction, and it shifted to tilt to the other, as if curious, just watching for now.

And then his eyes flickered up to Otto's, and he gave the boil a smile, and a wave of his rotting hand, before he reached out and grabbed for the ghoul's hair with skeletal fingers, to yank her back away from him, away from the wall that kept them divided, pulling on it hard as that smile turned into something much more cruel.

Otto stopped for a moment, staring in horror as Alex creeped onto his girlfriend. He was taunting him. Punishing him. That disgusting smile made Otto want to puke. Worser yet was the clear intentions of the zombie. He was going to hurt Nevada. He'd end up killing her if Otto didn't do something soon.

Nevada's scream tore at his heart, gasping for air that wouldn't reach his lungs. "NO!" He cried out, repeatedly smashing Tenya into the wall as hard as he could. It wasn't working. Nothing was working.

"Leave her alone!! Stop it!!!" Not her! Take him! He could fight back, he could stop him. Nevada was helpless. That wretched being was going to hurt her all to make Otto upset. She would die for a petty reason, using a helpless girl so he'd win.

He'd never felt so helpless. Never so powerless. If it was his own life in danger, it wouldn't have mattered. A life outside his control was at risk. An important life that meant everything to him.

Tenya tried with all her power to help Otto take out the wall, but greater forces were at work here. It would not budge.

The teen ran across the room, spinning around once, twice, and releasing the weapon in a burst of Fear. The charged attack bounced off the invisible wall uselessly, skidding the weapon across the floor and back to Otto.

She should've been, to reach deep down and play the game of cool. Play the game of the tough hunters. It was easy though, when you could hide behind a invisible shield, coached by the voice inside your head linked to the weapon you carried to attack. It was easy to be brave when you had the tools to be such.

it was easy to fear when it was all taken away.

The more she feared, the more she knew he grew. She didn't fear zombies, once upon a time ago. Even in scary movies, because the undead didn't fear her. But faced with it, faced with her vulnerability, and she feared for everything she was. And everything he was.

"Otto! OTTO!" She thrashed in the hold, but his grip was strong, and she was nothing now. She had nothing. "STOP, STOP, DON'T"

Part of her wanted to reach the student, who had friends probably, who would be different then the one who took her eye. She wanted to hope that maybe, that maybe it wouldn't actually hurt her.

It was naive and terrible hope.

"No..." She saw a flicker of something, before it faded. A flicker of unsureness. "Please, I don't wanna fight, please. just let me go back to Otto, please let me just go back..." And it was squashed, and she knew....

She felt the pain almost instantly, the way teeth sank into her skin with a easy puncture, even as she fought to be free. She screamed, her throat ached from the sheer noise, but it was nothing compared to the hunk of flesh, layers of skin, muscle and nerves spat on the ground. Blood spilled, staining her coat in a large mass of red. Tears welled in her eye, but the pain was nothing to push her into a comforting blackness.

No she was more aware then she had ever been, felt more then she had ever before. The scream died out as his bite did something to her, her fighting against him felt heavy, and slow.

She felt heavy and slow and she could feel the pounding of her heart, the blood rushing to her shoulder and pouring freely.

Her eye lifted to search for Otto's, meeting it with a slack shock.

/Otto, don't let him do this/

She reached a hand for him.

/Otto help me./

The words would never come.

/Save me, please, save me./

There was nothing he could do.

/Don't let me die here.../

As was to be expected, there was quite suddenly a lot of yelling, a lot of screaming, and all Alexander could do was drink it all in, because for once, it wasn't him. He wasn't the one begging. He wasn't the one so full of pain that he thought that if he could just dissipate, maybe he could come back and it would all be okay again. He wasn't the one full of worry, and guilt, and crushed hope that his loved one might be, or could ever be, okay again.

No, he was just the one causing it, and for some reason, that gave him quite a lot of satisfaction.

Blood was dribbling down his chin. He could taste it, the blood, so human and so foreign. So delicious but also potentially so bad for him, he could only have but a sample. He watched her as he tore away, smiling that red grin of his, showing her her own blood, before his gaze flickered beyond her, towards Otto.

"Why should I stop?" He asked, at first his voice seeming genuinely curious, before he continued on, and each word after that came out harder, angrier, more full of that all encompassing rage that he let himself complete his actions by. This was right, and this was okay, because he was just angry enough for it to be so.

"Why should I stop, when you and your lot never have? Kidnapping students and forcing them into weaponization chambers, blowing up the isles of the horseman, taking my boilfriend away from me, to convince him that it is okay to make that choice, to become a weapon, to leave me, if only to protect me?" He was shaking now, one hand still wrapped in Nevada's hair, the other reaching out for her arm, grasping it, before yanking on her, and twisting it sharply, turning her so she was facing Otto, so she could see her, could see the blood that flowed from an open wound and stained her white jacket red.

But he jerked just a bit too hard, twisted just a little too much, and that bone snapped beneath his grip, shattered and splintered as he made her face the wall and the man that begged for her life on the other side.

"Why should I stop?" His voice was a whispered hiss. "Give me just one good reason why."