"APART from that," Newt continues, running his fingers over the bat, "she is also hungry."

His men laugh, almost as if the situation is humorous. Thomas squeezes sand in his hands to keep them from shaking, but it doesn't help much. The color has drained away from his face, leaving him paler than ever.

It doesn't match with the sickness in his stomach, though. It feels like he's ready to vomit any second. Someone is going to die tonight, just when he thought they were safe.

"You're insane," Minho snarls.

"Oh." Newt's face fades into fake annoyance. "You annoy me. I think we might need to get rid of you already. Your voice is just... ugh." Slowly, he raises the bat—

"No!" A desperate shriek escapes Thomas as he jumps forward. Before he can even reach Minho, Newt's men have pulled him back. "No!" He cries again. "Please, don't—"

"Oh, shut up." Newt rolls his eyes. "I don't want this to happen again. Lizzy will get a real feast if it does. I get it, you're emotional, but let me make this clear: all you can do is breathe, blink, and cry. And trust me, you will be doing that."

"Shut your mouth," Brenda hisses between her teeth, directed at Minho. "You're going to die if you don't."

Newt allows his eyes to wander over the people in front of him. Thomas, Minho, Brenda, Gally, Vince, Jorge, Frypan, Harriet, Sonya, Aris.

He recalls not one single name.

Newt rubs his chin. "It's hard to decide. I mean, this one," he motions at Minho, "is annoying as hell, but that would make killing him obvious. I want him to suffer first. You seem to be close with this one." He spins to look at Thomas. "But you're the leader, and I don't want to cause too much trouble. Damn, I still need to decide on how many people I'm going to let Lizzy feast."

A silence falls. Their breaths are heavy, but someone stands out—Frypan's hyperventilating at this point, cheeks rolling down his cheeks so terribly fast that it's like a waterfall.

"Aw." Newt kneels down in front of him and takes his chin.

Newt takes Fry's chin to keep him from looking at Teresa, grinning as he looks him up and down.

Startled because of the memory, Newt stumbles back for a moment. Before anyone can say anything about it, he gathers himself and focuses back on Frypan. "Don't worry, you're too adorable to get your head bashed in."

He roughly lets go off his chin and stands back up. Wipes his clothes and takes a breath. "Hm. We have two grandpas." He eyes Vince and Jorge. "I feel like one should go, but not just yet. Which one of you is hiding?"

Newt stands still in front of every single member of the Right Arm, and stops at the last person in the row.

"Peek-a-boo!" Newt throws his head back, laughing. "You've been quiet, mate. You still there?"

Aris looks like he just saw a ghost—technically, he might have. His eyes wide as he backs away from Newt, shuffling on his knees.

"Oh, don't be scared. It's not your turn. For now, at least."

He stands back up and looks around for one last time. "I think I have made a decision. Honestly, it's a fair one. You should've been dead for a long time by now anyway."

Before anyone can protest, he slams the bat down on the chosen one's head.

Everyone is silent for a moment, then hell breaks loose. Brenda bursts out crying, Minho stares at Newt in horror, and Thomas's vomit finally makes its way out.

"Wow." Newt admires his work, hands on his side. "Still alive." And continues slamming Lizzy against his head.