ACT II   SCENE XXXVI
BACCHAE

   THE FIGURE suddenly scampered off into the darkness, but Cassandra didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief just yet. Newt took a tentative step forward, but she raised a hand to stop him. The noise faded into the distance, then a faint splash echoed—water kicked up in the gloom—before silence reclaimed the tunnel. Newt glanced at her again, eyes searching.

Cassandra swallowed, every sense heightened, her entire body coiled like a trigger waiting to be pulled.

"Let's go," Newt whispered. She nodded once, then stepped forward carefully, each movement deliberate in the heavy silence.

They crept down the corridor, their footsteps barely above a whisper as they hurried forward. Up ahead, the tunnel split into two dark, twisting paths, and their boots sank with a soft splash into a shallow pool of murky water. Cassandra's heart pounded louder with every step toward the fork, a cold knot of uncertainty tightening in her chest as she weighed which shadowed route to take.

Newt took a cautious step forward when suddenly a low, guttural snarl ripped through the silence. From the left side of the fork, something lunged out of the shadows and slammed into Newt's back, sending them both crashing to the ground. Cassandra's eyes snapped wide open in terror as she caught a fleeting glimpse of the Crank's twisted face, an image that would haunt her nightmares for months to come.

A woman, possibly the same one from before, emerged from the darkness. Her dark hair was knotted and dripping wet. Half of her face had melted away, swollen skin hanging grotesquely over her left eye and mouth. The other side was twisted with wrinkled, oozing sores. Her one good eye was wild with madness, and her cracked lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of broken, rotten teeth. She wore a tattered white dress, now filthy and stained, the sequins sewn throughout hanging loose and sparkling in the flashlight's beam.

Newt cried out, struggling against the woman's thin but surprisingly tenacious arms. Cassandra darted forward and kicked her hard in the side, the sting from her bruised ribs flaring sharply. The Crank scrambled onto all fours and lunged again, as if the blow had barely fazed her, tackling Cassandra to the ground. The jolt rattled through Cassandra's entire body, and she raised an arm instinctively to shield her face as the woman rasped out guttural ramblings.

"You're so pretty. I used to be pretty, I was the prettiest, you should have seen me. I was the prettiest of the prettiest. You have such a pretty nose, can I have your nose?"

Every nerve in Cassandra's body ignited with terror. She slapped the frenzied hands away from her face, then kicked her left leg up and over the Crank's head. Without hesitation, she swung it hard across the woman's torso. The impact sent the Crank sprawling to the ground, and Cassandra scrambled to her feet in one swift motion.

The infected lunatic screeched, a piercing, blood-curdling sound that reverberated off the tunnel walls and gripped at Cassandra's heart. As if summoned by their matriarch's call, more agonised screams echoed from the depths of the darkness. Behind her, Newt gasped sharply, the torch's beam jerking wildly as he swung it from side to side, his eyes wide with blind panic.

On impulse, Cassandra lunged forward, driving her knife mercilessly into the Crank's skull with a sickening crunch. The shrill screeching cut off abruptly as the tormented wretch collapsed backwards with a heavy thud. She pressed her foot firmly against the woman's throat for good measure, then wrenched the blade free.

For that split second, Cassandra felt déjà vu rush through her, blending with the adrenaline and memories ingrained deep in her muscles. She knew right then that she had done this countless times before.

"Bloody hell." Newt froze, eyes wide, and Cassandra quickly grabbed his hand.

"Run!" she yelled as the screams down the corridor swelled, growing louder and closer.

They bolted to the right, pumping their legs hard through the wet, moss-covered tunnel. The torchlight flickered wildly ahead, casting frantic shadows as Newt struggled to keep the path illuminated while sprinting. They came to a sudden stop when a figure lurched around the corner, its body twitching uncontrollably. Manic eyes locked onto them, a twisted grin splitting its face.

Before they could react, three more emerged, blocking their escape, as the anguished screeches behind them rose into a terrifying crescendo.

"Fuck!" she cursed. "Fuck it all to hell!"

"W-What do we do?" Newt asked, fear seeping into his voice.

She grabbed him, pulled him close, and locked eyes with his terrified gaze. "There's only one thing to do," she said firmly. "When I say run, you run. Got it?"

"Cass, what—"

Before Newt could finish his sentence, she released him and charged toward the Cranks blocking their path, knife drawn and ready. Newt gasped in shock, calling out for her to stop, but she was already in motion. The group froze, clearly caught off guard by her sudden attack.

Seizing the moment, Cassandra slipped between them, her blade flashing in the dim light as it sliced through the artery of the first Crank. Her other knife plunged deep into the throat of a second. As she fought, she realised they were all women of varying ages, like a twisted, hellish brood.

The third Crank lunged at Cassandra, crashing into her with brutal force. Pain exploded in her side, forcing the air from her lungs in a harsh rush. She gasped, struggling for breath as jagged nails dug into her skin, locking around her arm like an iron vice.

Frantically, she swung her elbow into the girl's face, but the grip on her arm didn't loosen. With a surge of strength, Cassandra yanked them both away just as another Crank lunged, its teeth snapping dangerously close to her throat.

They crashed to the ground, and without hesitation, Cassandra drove her knife deep into the chest of the girl holding her. The crushing pressure on her arm vanished instantly.

Newt lunged forward, shoving his shoulder into a Crank closing in from behind. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Newt raised his knife high and drove it straight into its eye.

"Run!" Cassandra yelled urgently, yanking him to his feet and pulling him away.

She twisted her knife downward, slashing behind the Crank's knees. Its legs buckled, and a hideous shriek ripped through the air as it thrashed on the ground. Cassandra ignored the noise, yanking Newt forward and forcing him into a desperate sprint.

They veered sharply right at the corridor's end, only to be met by more Cranks emerging from shadowed doorways and hidden passages. She barreled through them, every muscle burning as she dodged clawing hands and slashed wherever her blade could reach.

"I see light!" Newt shouted, and she snapped her gaze ahead to the tunnel's exit.

He clicked the torch off, and they followed the glare of sunlight like a beacon of hope. The snarls and snapping teeth behind them grew even louder, their hurried footsteps pounding the air with wild, frantic rhythm. Cassandra felt the sun's heat kiss her skin as they burst up the stairs into the bright, arid wasteland.

"Cassie? Newt?" Minho's voice called out, but his expression dropped as he saw the terror etched in their faces.

"Run!" she yelled, waving her arms urgently just as another scream tore through the air behind them. The Cranks had caught up, staggering deliriously into the sunlight. The guttural, inhuman sounds they made sent a fresh wave of dread as they kept up their relentless chase.

"No!" Jorge bellowed, slamming a metal bar into a Crank's face. "Everyone hold your ground! We can't let them chase us across half the city! They won't stop until we're all dead!"

Cassandra skidded to a halt beside Minho, staring at Jorge with utter revulsion. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

Her lungs felt like they were about to burst, and sharp pain stabbed at her side. Seeing her struggle, Minho pulled her behind him. "Leave it to us," he said. "You guys take a break now."

Cassandra thought that sounded like a pretty good plan until she spotted a dozen more Cranks far beyond the Gone, shuffling onto the dusty street. Suddenly, the idea lost its shine.

"Uh, sure," she grunted, voice tight. "And just let you guys face that army alone? I don't think so."

"The hell are those things?" Frypan yelped from behind them. "What the shuck did you do, Cass? Summon a damn devil cult down there?"

"Buggin' monstrosities straight out of your worst nightmare, that's what," Newt said with a shiver. "Cass took down a few on her own earlier. Reckon we can do the same, yeah?"

"Sure, I'll take that bet," Archie quipped.

Cassandra turned and gave him a wide smirk, not that she expected anything less from the former Runner. Minho's smile held something close to pride, and she stepped forward to stand beside him, twirling her knife downward with practised ease. Her side throbbed with a dull ache, but she shoved the pain aside.

One of the Cranks lurched toward her.

In that instant, a memory flared, her father's steady hands guiding hers as he taught her to fight. His voice calm but firm, drilling into her the importance of precision, control, and never wasting a single move. She could still feel the weight of his grip, the reassuring pressure as he corrected her stance, over and over, until it became muscle memory. Now, all those lessons came flooding back, every motion flowing naturally, every strike purposeful, like an echo of him fighting by her side.

Without hesitation, she sprang forward, swinging her arm to carve a clean, horizontal slash across the Crank's throat. Before it could react, she spun and drove her knife deep into its right eyeball. A wet, gurgling scream escaped as the Crank collapsed backwards, and Cassandra ripped the blade free.

Minho watched her like he was enjoying every second of it.

"God damn, I'm in shucking love."

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