"We're going to the disused factory on the horizon, aren't we? The one with the glowering windows, and the tendrils of ivy that look like veins, and the smokestacks that look like devil horns against the full moon?" Peter grimaces at his own description. "Honestly, Sam, couldn't you have found a creepier setting?"

"Kind of reminds me of that mental hospital we visited once," I say, looking at Peter. "Remember?"

"Yeah, but we didn't really 'visit' it. You ran there because you were hallucinating, and I chased you down."

"Glad you did. It was... one hell of a trip."

"Well, you are chasing a V-Type tonight instead of a drugged-out Runner Five," Sam says, cutting our banter short. "So, you know, abject terror is probably the appropriate emotion. We tracked down one of the ones you and Jody washed away from London, Five."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That was fast. It's only been like, three days."

"Well, I've been looking nonstop."

Ah, yes, it makes sense now. Him throwing himself into his work, trying to distract himself from the pain. I've done it enough times to recognize it.

"Cams show it went to ground here," He continues. "It's only got half a head, so it shouldn't be too hard to catch."

"Even a partially disassembled V-Type is dangerous, Mr. Yao," Janine snaps, her brows furrowing together. "Never forget that. Dr. Meyers, Runner Five, Peter, you will draw it to me, and I will disable it with this."

She holds up a metal canister, and Peter tilts his head to the side in confusion.

"I don't think bashing the last bit of its head in is really going to do much to stop it."

"We're going to spray it with liquid nitrogen," Maxine states. "We managed to track down one canister. And it'll freeze the V-Type. Then we can shatter it, put the parts in deep freeze, and then send them off to Veronica."

"Oh. She got in touch, did she?"

"Not in touch... exactly."

"She sent us an email over Roufflenet asking us to capture a V-Type for her to study," I say, and he makes a face.

"I don't want to be that guy, but do we really know it's her?"

"The message said she calculated there was an 87% chance we'd doubt her identity, so she included some personal information only she could know. It was all spot on."

"The message was from Miss McShell," Janine says. "I'm quite confident of it. But we must capture that V-Type before it leaves the facility. Come on. There's the east gate. Run."

We speed up just a bit. I don't like this whole idea of trying to get up close and personal with a V-Type. I hate that Veronica wants us to do this. I mean, since she's A.N.N.I.E. now, technically, I don't understand why she doesn't have her little robot minions get it for her, or make the Glass Protocol do it.

I wonder if she's called it off.  I mean, she said she couldn't get rid of Bad A.N.N.I.E., but she's hived off sections of her so they can't rejoin and take over. Maybe she was able to. Maybe I don't have to worry about an unkillable hybrid thing coming after me.

I doubt it, since visions I've had about the Glass Protocol haven't all happened yet. I can't remember details. So much has happened that it becomes hard to keep track of what and who and when.

But I remember the fear. I remember A.N.N.I.E. saying the Glass Protocol would toy with me, like a cat would with a mouse. I've had cats. I know how they are with their prey. It's not pretty.

The thought flies from my head when a horrible screech-like noise reaches my ears. I jump a good foot in the air, grabbing onto Peter's arm hard enough to leave bruises.

"Calm down. It's just the gate," He says, pushing it open a bit more, and that sound hits the air again. It's still just as terrifying as it was the first time. I didn't even know gates could make that noise.

"Sounds like it needs a drop of WD-40," Sam says with a shudder. "Or holy water."

"Maybe both," I swallow. "I've heard zombies give out less terrifying noises."

Only a few steps ahead is the door to the facility, and when we open it, we're met with a sea of darkness. It's quiet, but it's anything but calm.

"The V-type must be in here somewhere," Janine says. "Peter, Five, go left. Dr. Meyers, we will take the right-hand corridor. You have, I trust, all brought your regulation torches?"

Maxine smiles as she fishes out a flashlight from her backpack. "Never leave home without it."

"You and me then, Five. Come on." Peter grabs my wrist and uses his free hand to shine his flashlight around, and I do the same with mine. "Did Valmont get in touch with any info about your sister, Sam?"

Sam sighs, grief evident in his voice. "He says there's nothing, so either he's lying or... you know. Sigrid was probably lying about having her. I was thinking about those files of hers. That's what she did. She found people's weaknesses and she exploited them. I mean, after Ian's broadcasts, loads of people knew my name. If Nikki were still alive, well, she'd have got in touch, right? I mean, Nicole was halfway around the world and came to see Five when she got the smallest bit of evidence that the hero of Abel Township might be her."

"I'm not sure that's the best comparison to use," I say, making a face. "She didn't come because she cared about me."

"I-I know, but... still."

"Yeah," Peter says. "I... I'm sorry. I-I don't know if it's better to have hope or... not. Uh, God! Look at these cobwebs. I would hate to meet the spider that lives in one of the-oh, good God!"

He stops, suddenly jumping back and slamming into me, nearly knocking me over. I just barely manage to keep a good grip on my flashlight.

"What is it? V-Type?" Sam asks, urgently as I tense up, ready to flee.

Peter shines his flashlight around again, and audibly sighs. "No. That's a mannequin. I think this is a mannequin factory."

"As if this couldn't get any creepier," I say, examining the dozens of mannequins around us. "And look-y there. None of them have heads."

"So, finding a V-Type's going to be particularly interesting," Sam huffs, and Peter nods in agreement.

"You know, I've been thinking. If you chopped my head off, would it grow a new body? Or would the body grow back a new head? Or both? And-and which one would actually be the real me? What makes a person a person?"

"Yeah. Well, after what Veronica did, I've been thinking about that stuff too... I keep wondering if we should have held a funeral."

There's a clatter and an animalistic roar behind me. I twist around, shining my light just in time to see our V-Type stumble out of a storage room. Its eyes snap up, seeming to illuminate in the darkness.

It sees us.

We run.

"Tell us where to go, Sam. We've got the V-Type and," I look behind me again, "it's definitely after us."

"Take the next right. Janine's got the liquid nitrogen. We need to lead the zom to her. Run!"

"We are!"

"Then run faster!"

I glare at nothing, taking the next right as the zombie behind us continues to roar and growl. Peter keeps his grip on my wrist, pulling me as if he's afraid I may slow down.

When I twist and shine my flashlight on the zom's face, I see it staring right at me, as if it's trying to stare into my soul. A part of me almost thinks it can.

But there's something about it, the way it watches, as if it's studying us.

What are you?

"Nice luring, guys," Sam says as we turn another corner. "Maxine and Janine are all set up to freeze the zom. Just keep running through this, uh, eerie hall of unfinished mannequins."

"Thank you for describing it so thoroughly," I say in annoyance. "It's not like I was avoiding looking at them so I wouldn't be even more scared than I already am."

"Is now really the time for sarcasm?"

"If I can get a reaction out of you, then yes," I reply cheekily, which gets a soft chuckle from him.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Peter says, not sounding sorry at all, "but are these mannequins animatronic?" He points to one as we pass it. "That one's moving its arm, and that one, and-"

He's cut off when the headless body turns toward us, and another one up ahead with no jaw roars, and other one joins the one chasing us. I can't even begin to describe what's wrong with its face. 

We screech to a stop as the zoms start to surround us from all sides. I grip my flashlight tighter.

"They're not mannequins!" Sam panics. "Oh, God! There are four of them? Janine, quick, switch on your noisemaker to draw them off Peter and Five."

A faint beeping noise from a few corridors down reaches my ears, and I almost sigh in relief.

But then the blood drains from my face as I look around, watching as the zoms slowly inch closer.

"They're not moving away, Sam!" Peter yells. "They're not even looking away from us!"

"But noisemakers always work!"

"Not with V-Types, apparently. They're walking towards us, slowly, like they know they have us."

"Okay, okay. It's okay." He's breathless, afraid. "Schematics. Right, uh, there's a chute thing behind that pile of arms and legs. Slide down it, and head for the stairs. They lead back to the others. Hopefully the V-Types won't follow."

"But how do we get past the zoms to get to the chute?" Peter asks. "We can't kill them!"

"Uh, I-I-"

"Duck!" I yell, grabbing the first thing I can from my jacket. It's only a few marbles, something I found on the way here and decided to keep. I chuck them at the zom closest to the chute. It's the one with no jaw.

The marbles hit it right in the eye, distracting it just enough for me to grab Peter and run past it, kicking past the arms and legs to get to the chute.

"Come on! Slide!"

•

"Okay, Five, Peter, you're nearly back with the others. Janine's got the liquid nitrogen ready to spray."

"There's four of them on our tail," Peter pants. "That canister's not big enough to stop them all."

"I know, but at least it should slow them down. I can't believe they came down that chute after you!"

"An ordinary zom wouldn't have done that, would it? And an ordinary zom can't resist the old noisemakers. What the hell are we dealing with?!"

"That's what we need Veronica to tell us, and that's why we need to get her a V-Type to study," Sam replies.

"Mr. Lynne, Runner Five, I see you," Janine says. "A final burst of speed, please. I need you to put some distance between yourselves and the V-Types before I release the gas."

"You have to do it now, Janine!" Maxine shouts. "Or the V-Types will have us all!"

"Duck and dive, Runners. I'm releasing the liquid nitrogen."

My flashlight shines onto her for a split second, allowing me to see her on the platform above us, aiming the canister's nozzle at us just before she releases the gas. Fingers snag the base of my ponytail, forcing me to duck down. I let out a yelp, but Peter's grip on my hair is too strong for me to fight.

I hear the hiss of the spray before it solidifies to ice.

"It's working!" Sam yells as Peter releases his grip on me.

"Wow, there goes its foot!" Maxine laughs. "Oh, we're out of ice. That slowed them down though."

The zombies behind us snarl, and Sam winces.

"Not much. What do we do now?"

"An opportunity will present itself. For now, run," Janine commands, and we do.

"Five, are you alright?" Peter asks, and he shines his flashlight on my head, his eyes wide as he looks at where he grabbed my hair. I dismiss it with a wave of my hand.

"I've had hair ripped out of my scalp before. You giving it a little tug did nothing."

"Well, I'm glad, but I'm talking about the liquid nitrogen. None of it got one you? You're okay?"

I blink. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"

He doesn't reply.

"Peter."

"Don't worry about me, Five-o." He says, and when I look at him, squinting because of the bright light, I see he's forcing a smile. And he's hiding his left hand behind his back.

"Peter," I repeat. My voice holds more of a warning. He keeps the forced smile.

"It's... okay." He's lying, and he knows I know he's lying, but then he looks back at the zombies still following behind us, trudging along. They seem angry, if zombies can get angry. Maybe V-Types can.

Still, if Peter got hurt because he was trying to force me to get out of the way... If he's hurt because he was protecting me...

Guilt hits me with such force I feel as if I may puke. I know I'll end up telling him about this-me-eventually. I've had a vision about it. We were having some argument about him being stupid or reckless or something like that. But until that time comes, then he's stuck with believing I'm human, and that he needs to keep me safe on our runs together.

I don't want that.

If I could, I'd tell him now, but trying to change my visions usually make things worse.

"Guys, those V-Types are catching up fast," Sam says anxiously. "Really getting the hang of this three-limb scamper."

I brush against Peter by accident, and a loud crack reaches my ears, then a shout from Peter. I snap my gaze to him, and he hisses, knowing he's caught but unable to hide his pain.

"What was that?" I ask, and he forces a laugh, almost shrinking back when I send him a hard glare.

"Also, side note, my left hand got caught in the dry ice and when Five brushed against it, it fell off. Hurts like the buggary."

I gasp, grabbing his arm and feeling horrified at the sight of the sleeve his jacket that no longer has a hand sticking from it. I immediately tie the sleeve around the nub to stop the bleeding. I'm not even sure areas that fall off from being frozen do bleed, but it's the first thing that comes to mind and it's the only thing I can do as I run.

"But it will grow back," Janine says, and the eyeroll in her voice pisses me off immensely.

"Uh, yeah, just FYI, the whole growing back thing also hurts like the buggary!"

"I am so sorry," I say, distressed, hating myself for being so clumsy, so careless. "I-I don't... I'm so-I'm so sorry, Peter."

"It's okay," He says quickly. "It didn't get you though. That's why I was looking to make sure."

"But you shouldn't have-"

"Don't worry, Five. Like Janine said, my hand will grow back in a few days, maybe even less than that." He mumbles an added, "Even though it will hurt like hell."

I open my mouth but am at a loss for words. What can I even say to that? What more can I say besides countless apologies that he thinks aren't necessary?

"Oh, oh!" Sam says in realization. "Mannequin factory! I think I've got it! This place used liquid plastic to make its mannequins. It's super fast drying!"

"I think I see," Janine replies. "You believe if we can somehow induce the V-Types to enter a vat of raw plastic-"

"Or tip a vat of plastic over them..." Peter suggests.

"It's too complicated. The best plans are simple ones."

"But do we have a simple plan?" Maxine asks.

"No. And that's why we must attempt to implement this one," She replies, and I roll my eyes, wondering why she just didn't go with that in the first place. "Mr. Yao, what is the fastest route to the location of the raw plastic?"

"Um, hang on. Uh, yeah. Through that green door coming up on your left."

"Very well. Dr. Meyers, you'll come through that door with me. We will turn on the generator in the basement, find the stocks of plastic, and heat them. Five, Mr. Lynne, you will continue to lure the zombies after you, taking them to the plastic by a more circuitous route.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, but you are our nimblest runner, Five. And Mr. Lynne, you are-"

"The most disposable, I know," He says, and my heart breaks.

"The hardiest," She corrects. "The door is coming up now. Follow me, Dr. Meyers."

Peter and I both look up and see her and Maxine running along the platform above us, reaching the door and closing it tight once they're in.

"You guys keep running until you reach the old canteen," Sam instructs. "Go!"

We keep running, but all I can think about are Peter's words, how he believes he's disposable.

He isn't. He's anything but that.

I hate that he thinks that, because I once felt like that. It was drilled in my head at the A.M.T.B. The Torrencers wanted me to believe that. They saw me as something that could easily be replaced. It took years for Sam to get me to start believing I mean something to other people, that I'm more than just what I can do for others.

Peter sees his immortality as something that makes him more "disposable" because he'll always come out. He'll always survive, but that doesn't mean he should put himself through this kind of pain.

I want to tell him that. I do! But I can't even be sure he'd listen. I didn't for the longest time. I was convinced that my death would be nothing more than a name that was scratched and filled with someone else.

It hurts to know that Peter thinks this. It hurts to see him fall into this pattern that I once fell into.

I'll talk to him when we get back to Abel. My experience with these feelings may let me talk to him and make sure he never gets into the position I was once in. Our circumstances around these feelings are a bit different, but I have to try.

"Are you okay?" I ask him, eyes glancing down to his missing hand. He smiles, as if he thinks he can hide his agony from me. It's almost laughable.

"I've told you I'll be fine. You're worrying yourself for nothing."

"I'd be a bad friend if I didn't worry about you."

"And I'd be a bad friend if I let you worry about me for nothing."

"But it isn't nothing! You got hurt because of me!" My voice cracks, and his eyes widen, but he recovers from his shock in record time.

"Because I knew I'd be alright." He laughs, as if he can't believe he has to explain this to me.

"I would have been alright too."

"No, you wouldn't have. That liquid nitrogen would have got you right on the side of the face if I hadn't made you duck down. Who knows the damage that would have done."

"Not as much as you think," I mumble, and he raises a brow.

"What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Let's just keep running. The zoms aren't catching up, but they're surely trying."

We only run for a few more minutes, our flashlights shining down the dark hallways. A few lights come on, probably because Janine turned on the generator, but I think most of the bulbs are burned out, or the switch is not on.

"This must be the canteen, judging by all the nasty Formica tables," Peter says, breaking what seemed like endless silence. "I suppose it makes sense to send muggings on this one. I'm the roly-poly of Abel. You knock me down; I get back up again."

"That's not a bad thing," I say. "It's a trait of strength."

He looks at me, grins, white teeth and bright eyes hiding the bitterness and anger as he studies my face. "Oh, but you, on the other hand... sometimes I think the others forget you're still human, Callista. You've survived so much, they think you're immortal." He sneers. "You're not that unlucky."

I don't even realize the mocking laugh that reaches the air is coming from my own lips until Peter frowns, perplexed.

He doesn't get to ask about it. I'm glad. I don't know what I'd say if he did.

"Runner Five, Runner Three, how are you doing?" Sam asks.

Peter glances over his shoulder. "There's a V-Type behind us with no skin on its face. Looks like Skeletor, except its tongue is lolling out of its throat. So Skeletor with a really horrible tie."

"But you're both alright?"

"We're fine, babe," I say. He knows both of us will be alright as long as I don't get bit, but he still cares. It's sweet in a post-apocalyptic sort of way.

"Good. Good. Okay. Janine and Maxine?"

"We're heating up the plastic," Maxine reports. "There's a vat coming to a boiling point on the gantry over the factory floor. If you can lead the V-Types under it, Five, we should be able to tip it onto them."

I nod. "Can do."

"I've sent a message to Veronica to ask if she thinks she can do anything with a plastic dipped zombie," Sam says.

"Have you heard anything from her?"

"She's sort of erratic about responding these days. Maybe our petty mortal concerns are beneath the notice of her robot brain."

"Or maybe she's scared," Maxine says. "She never could talk about that when she was human either."

"Either way, a plastic-coated zombie may be all we can give her," Janine cuts in. "Five, Three, keep running. Take the next left, and you'll lead the V-Types underneath our vat of molten plastic."

I swallow, pushing myself to run just a bit faster as Peter and I turn left, heading up the stairs to get to the factory floor. The zombies stay right behind us, climbing the stairs with ease.

I'm thankful it only takes us a minute or so to reach the factory floor.

"Head through that metal archway," Sam says. "Janine and Maxine are on a metal gantry with a vat of boiling plastic. You need to lead the zoms beneath them."

"So, when you say this plastic is boiling, you really mean boiling?" Peter asks with a raised brow.

"Uh, yeah? That's why I said the word 'boiling' in the first place."

"If it's boiling, then it'll be dangerous if any of it splashes on Five." He looks around the dimly lit room. "Alright, look, there's a pillar to the left. Should hide you from the zoms' view, Five. Duck down behind that as we go past, and I'll lead the zoms into the plastic."

"Wait-" I start, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.

"No need for you to risk life and limb as well."

"No, Peter, wait-"

"You ready?"

"If you would just let me-"

"Go!"

He keeps running, and even though I really don't want to, I duck behind the pillar. I peek out around just enough to see the zombies continue to chase after Peter.

All except one-the one I marbled in the eye.

It looks around, sees my face for that slight second, just long enough for me to realize I'm screwed, then starts coming towards me.

I turn and run.

"Oh crap. Crap!" Sam exclaims. "One of them's after Callista. Janine, you've only got three coming after Peter."

"Three will have to do," She replies as I push my legs to run as fast as they can. "Mr. Lynne, I'll be tipping this vat of plastic in three, two... and push, Dr. Meyers!"

The sound of hot liquid hitting the ground reaches my ears, and Peter's slightly pained cheer that follows.

"You got them! And you only got me a bit."

"Are you okay?" I ask immediately, and he scoffs.

"I'm fine, darling. Honestly, you should be worried about the V-Type still after you." He pauses a beat. "Wait, there's a V-Type still after Five! What do we do?!"

"Five, run to the far end of the factory floor and take the stairs to the basement," Sam says, and I'm quick to obey. "We'll find somewhere to lock the V-Type in. We-I just need to keep you safe. I'm going to keep you safe, I promise. Just run!"

•

"Keep going," Sam says as I clamber down the rusty metal stairs down into the basement, my heart thrumming in my ears as the V-Type behind me roars. "The schematics down there are a bit vague, but it looks like there's a door at the end of the left-hand corridor, and there's a way out on the other side."

"Okay," I pant. "Okay. I'm going to be okay."

"Yes, you are. I won't let anything happen to you. Peter's followed you down. Peter, shut that door behind the V-Type."

The clang of the door behind the V-Type is deafening, but it doesn't drown out the creak of when I open the door in front of me.

"Okay, now if you just head through that door, Five-" Sam gasps. "Oh crap! The zom's speeding up, like it knows it's trapped you! I can't see a light switch. I haven't got cams in there! I can only see through your headcam. Crap!"

"What do I do?" I squeak, looking from the pitch black room and the V-Type barreling after me.

"Just-just go through that door. Shine your torch."

He cringes when I do as told, my flashlight showing dozens and dozens of spiders on... on everything.

"Never mind them. You've got to slam the door, Five. You need to keep-"

The door slams shut.

But I didn't do it.

Silence engulfs me, the only noise being the soft movements of the spiders when I shine my flashlight around, and the banging of the V-Type against the door.

"S-Sam?"

No answer.

"Sam!"

Nothing.

My breathing quickens, panic settling in, muscling coiling as my mind races and my eyes scan over the spiders that surround me. They look at me, but they don't move closer. That doesn't make me feel any better.

I'm trapped in here, a V-Type outside the door, spiders surrounding me. I'm engulfed in darkness.

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

"Runner Five, can you hear me?"

My entire body tenses up at that voice.

"I think you can. I hope you can."

It sounds the same as it did when it first happened, her voice still hers, but more automated, robotic... less human.

"It's me! It's Veronica. I mean, sort of. I have been Veronica. I know it's dark in there. I slammed the door shut for you to separate you from the zombie! But it has no handle on the inside, so you're trapped. You're in a very bad place, Five, but if you do everything I say, there's a 37% chance I can get you out alive."

A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment! I've decided to dedicate this chapter to WinchestersArchangel
Thank you for reading and have a blessed day!