Schaefer was on the opposite side of the Dead Center, so far, in fact, that he needed binoculars to spot Bloodletter in the distance. "Ha!" he laughed. "There's someone I haven't seen in years. But then again, referring to it as a 'someone' might be a bit too polite."

"Holy shit," Kat said. "I haven't seen that wanker in the flesh since I was thirteen."

"Memories, right?" Jonah chuckled. "Really violent, horrible memories. I don't know why I laughed at that."

Kat also chuckled. "Don't you remember? You're the one with the bad timing."

Jonah shrugged. "Can't argue with that."

Bloodletter walked over to the pile of burnt corpses left behind by the Pyro Boys. He trudged around until he found the one person he was looking for. One smaller than the other bodies lying around in the ashes. One who was too young to die, let alone the incredibly horrific way his death was carried out.

Edgar's body lay underneath the pile of ash spread across his chest like a blanket. The left hemisphere of his face was burned off, glowing a bright orange as the flame continued to die out. Unlike most corpses found throughout the Dead Zone, Edgar's eyes were closed—at the least the right eye was; the left eye was just a burning, hollow eye socket.

"Another body in the pile," Bloodletter said grimly. "And as usual, killed without reason."

"Bloodletter, what the hell are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Schaefer needs to be reminded of the extent of the consequences his actions are bringing him. He wants to erase the evidence of his mistakes, yet he doesn't know when to stop."

"I'm not sure if you do, either. Fuck Schaefer, but don't disrespect Edgar's corpse like this. He was just a kid."

Bloodletter lifted Edgar's body from the ashes and continued his slow trek down the street toward the DZI, all of which had their guns trained on him.

"Stop, sir!" Harry shouted. "You're not in control of the situation!"

Bloodletter didn't look back. All he replied was, "Neither is he."

"This is the Dead Zone Infantry!" Schaefer announced from his APC. "Stop where you are or we will shoot!"

Bloodletter ignored him and resumed advancing forward. All of the soldiers came into view, their guns pointing directly at him. The APC's were parked around him in a cluster, and the soldiers manning the machine guns had him in their sights.

"Final warning, arsehole! Stop where you are or we'll open fire!"

"Not sure if you want to do that, Schaefer," Bloodletter said without stopping. He paused to hear a few murmurs among the DZI asking how he knows Schaefer by name. "Wouldn't you like to give your son the proper burial?"

That was the first time any of the DZI ever saw Schaefer truly angry. They've seen him be aggressive just to prove how scary he is or to remind them to be brave in times of danger, but this new emotion in his eyes...It was almost like a monster had replaced him and taken his physical form. The DZI were too scared to make another move, lest one more mistake felt like it would result in their deaths at the hands of their own leader.

"Yeah, that's right," Bloodletter continued, still approaching the armed humans. "Edgar Schaefer. I believe that's his name. All these years, wandering alone in the forest, unaware that his father is the one responsible for his and his mother's deaths."

"You're treading on some very thin ice," Schaefer muttered. "If you value your life, I highly recommend you shut your fucking mouth and surrender."

"Well luckily for you, I'm no longer alive. And in all honesty, I think it's best for your son as well that he no longer has to witness his father commit more atrocities."

"Fire on my command!"

All of the soldiers cocked their guns, and one of the few surviving Pyro Boys lit up another Molotov. Bloodletter was digging himself a grave by continuing to taunt Schaefer, yet he kept digging. "It's already hard living in a world where some monsters take the forms of human beings, but imagine how he'd feel knowing his daddy was the worst of them. So bad, in fact, that he'd kill people both known and unknown to him to make sure he'd never be reminded of his mistakes."

"Three!"

"You killed Sarah! You killed Artemis! And Hera! And now you're own son! You're no hero, Schaefer! You're just a killer like me!"

"What is he talking about?" Shaw asked.

"Two!" Schaefer continued.

"I always tell the other Deadmen never to come to me. I go to them. There's only one small problem."

"One!"

Bloodletter carefully placed Edgar down on the ground behind him, ready to fight. "Nobody ever lives long enough to remember the consequences."

"Fire!"

A storm of bullets came crashing down on Bloodletter. Every gun pointed at him was firing without end. Even though his helmet was successful in protecting his skull, the rest of his body was ripped to shreds by gunfire. He felt no pain but still realized he was losing nearly all the blood in his body. He almost lost balance when one of the machine guns tore a hole through his neck, and his head slumped to the side.

Unfortunately for them, now that the infamous Man in the Red Mist was damaged beyond recognition, he had enough blood to annihilate the entire squad. And the first thing he did was take one long swing of his arm. Another blast from the machine gun took his arm clean off, but he had already made his next move.

The DZI didn't even realize what he had done until they noticed the dozens of red orbs floating toward them.

"Bombs!" Schaefer exclaimed as he jumped off the APC. The DZI soldiers bolted away from their vehicles and ran for their lives toward the forest or whatever looked like a possible shield.

Then the street was consumed by a massive ripple of explosions, bright red energy consuming everything in view. Many of the soldiers disappeared into the crimson clouds, but the slightly luckier ones—meaning the ones who'd live to see tomorrow—got quick glimpses of the pieces of their former comrades scattering through the air. Jonah was one of those so-called lucky ones, getting hit in the back by what was left of a leg.

"I think someone just kicked me!" he shouted.

"Use the nail bomb!" Kat replied.

Shaw was racing beside the two of them. "Do what she says, Franklin! Toss anything you have that's explosive! With correct aim, of course."

"How the hell is he the second-in-command again?" Jonah asked Kat, the two of them still running for their lives.

"Just throw the bomb!" Shaw ordered.

Nearly tripping over debris, Jonah rummaged through his backpack while continuing to flee toward the forest. Once he got his hands on it—and received a few small cuts across the palm of his hand—he activated the pressure cooker and lobbed the canister deep into the smoke.

Unfortunately, nobody realized Schaefer was too busy blowing all of his ammo on Bloodletter.

Hundreds of bullet shells and body parts were scattered around him. Jonah swore he saw him get lost in the wave of explosions a minute ago, yet Schaefer stood in the smoke, firing his gun off at his worst enemy. Aside from ash and soot, there wasn't a single scratch on him.

"Schaefer!" Shaw exclaimed. "Get down!"

"You get down!" Schaefer replied without looking back as he emptied his next magazine of ammo. "I've been waiting for this for too long!"

A click indicated his gun was finished. He was too distracted to notice Shaw charging towards him and tackling him out of the nail bomb's impact radius. The two tumbled to the floor behind one of their own wrecked APC's as the bomb went off.

An onslaught of shrapnel fired out in all directions. The windows were shattered to bits, and even the door of the APC was penetrated by a few of the pieces, nearly missing Shaw's legs as he kept his superior pinned to the ground. Jonah, Kat, and the other DZI ducked for cover as well.

"What the fuck are you doing, Shaw?" Schaefer shouted. "That was my damn chance!"

"Yeah, your chance to get your arse ripped apart by one of your own soldiers," Shaw replied.

"My own soldiers?" repeated Schaefer. "Who the bloody hell tossed that bomb?"

"Officer Franklin. Believe it or not, that wanker's little toy actually worked. That bloodletting bastard lost most of his limbs and maybe even his spine."

Schaefer crawled to the edge of the destroyed vehicle and carefully peaked his head over the hood. There Bloodletter was slumped to the floor, horrifically marred by the shrapnel. While the helmet protected his head, the rest of his body was covered in deep crude slashes. The most notable wound, however, was the long slab of metal stabbing directly through his neck. It would've been a miracle—yet still surprisingly likely—if he survived that.

"He actually got the fucker," Schaefer said with a sadistic smirk. "Time to finish him while he's down."

Schaefer scaled the hood of the vehicle and slid back to the ground. He unsheathed his machete, preparing to finish off the Man in the Red Mist. Three Deadmen emerged from the destruction and bolted toward him. Without a second thought, he slaughtered them with a few swipes of his blade, decapitating two and impaling the third through the skull. It normally would've been satisfying, but Jonah and Kat and even Shaw noticed they didn't seem to acknowledge Schaefer's existence. They weren't even looking at him when he attacked. They would've passed him by.

Once Schaefer was done digging the blade out of the Deadman's skull, he closed in on his downed enemy. Staring at the body of his son behind Bloodletter nearly shattered his heart to pieces.

"Y'know, Mr. Ares," Schaefer said, his grip still tight on the machete, "I hate to admit it, but I might actually deserve everything that's happened to me. I lost my friends, but I've separated families. My wife and child are dead, but I killed your daughter. My comrades and I live in squalor, but I'm the reason London was nearly wiped off the face of the earth."

Bloodletter couldn't reply. Only disgusting gurgling noises exited his throat.

"And yet despite everything, I'm not too worried about the consequences. I would've despised enduring this alone, especially since I wouldn't have been able to prove I'm the most fit for survival once everyone else has fallen." He slowly rose his machete above Bloodletter. "And once I've gotten rid of you, I'll finally prove I'm at the top of the food chain."

Just then, a red spear stabbed directly through his arm. It took him a few seconds to comprehend the object lodged in his arm, and he dropped the machete to the pavement. Another spear entered his other arm and the process repeated with his legs, two spears jamming into his thighs. The final spear stabbed into his side, and Bloodletter held onto it as he stood back up to his feet.

"Enough with that food chain bullshit," he said, the wounds in his body fading away like nothing. "You're not the strongest man in the Dead Zone. In fact, you're just like everyone else."

He jammed the red spear deeper into Schaefer's torso. "You're mortal. Powerless. And I know for a fact that those are the one things you try so hard not to be."

He raised the spear upward so Schaefer's feet left the ground. Schaefer hung in the air like a fish on a hook, blood seeping out of his wounds down his clothes. He didn't scream nor wince in pain at the wounds he received. He only gazed at the red X on Bloodletter's helmet, knowing wearing it was unnecessary for he already knew who was behind it.

"If you don't succumb to your wounds, come back with the intent of finishing what you've started," Bloodletter growled. "No guns. No DZI. I won't even use my powers. But if anyone else shows up, I will slaughter them with my bare hands and leave you for last."

"Damn you," Schaefer spat.

And with that, Bloodletter launched Schaefer toward the wrecked APC where Kat, Jonah, and Shaw still hid behind. His back crashed against the door of the vehicle, and the oxygen was knocked right out of his lungs. He slid back to the ground, the spears still lodged in his limbs.

"Fucking hell," Jonah gasped, glaring at the crimson spears. "That shit's gonna hurt being pulled out."

"Get down," Schaefer croaked.

"Wait, what—"

A crimson saw blade dashed toward the trio. It grazed Jonah's arm and left behind a deep slash through his clothes all the way down to his skin. He collapsed to the ground in pain and watched as the saw blade sliced through the head of another DZI officer before wedging into the wall of a dilapidated building.

"Jonah!" Kat exclaimed, kneeling down beside him. "You alright?" His endless swearing and the blood seeping down his jacket sleeve proved that he was certainly not alright.

Shaw ignored Jonah's wound along with the headless DZI officer and studied Schaefer's wounds for a moment. "Believe it or not, most of these wounds aren't fatal," he concluded. "The only life-threatening one is the laceration in your torso."

"That's fine," Schaefer replied in a raspy voice. "Let's head back to Longridge. We'll get ourselves patched up."

"You're calling a retreat?" Shaw asked.

"I thought I made that obvious. Now put me on a stretcher and let's head home. Maybe Officer Franklin here will be able to keep his arm if he's lucky."

"Wait, what?!" Jonah exclaimed, his bloody hand clutching the incision in his arm.

"Retreat, comrades!" Shaw exclaimed. "I repeat: retreat to the Longridge base!"

Kat assisted Jonah onto his feet and escorted him back to the APC along with the other soldiers. Multiple injuries plagued the survivors, ranging from mild scratches to lost limbs as a result of the bombs. And after several more minutes, the DZI had vanished from the ruins of the Dead Center. But the destruction they brought upon it would last forever.

And Bloodletter stood alone with Edgar's corpse, just another body added to the pile.