Silence fell on the school. The Grange Academy, a sign read. Libertas Per Cultum. John briefly wondered what that meant, but dismissed the curiosity, focusing instead on the enemies ahead, keeping his aim trained on them, just in case.

They were in a sorry state, considering the battle couldn't have actually lasted more than a few seconds. The lower half of the red knight's ruby armour and the diamond mannequin's glittering legs were covered in scuff marks and tiny burns and crystals of ice and oddly proportioned trees, but they at least could stand by their own power. The robed mage looked like he would have collapsed to the floor if he didn't have their shoulders to lean on. His legs were shaking.

John had kind of dominated them, in retrospect. It was going to be super awkward if it turned out he'd jumped the gun, and they hadn't intended to attack after all.

I'll just have to stick to my guns if that's the case. Work the aggressive douchebag angle. Can't be seen to have made a mistake.

Having bullied the formerly-hostile trio into a temporary ceasefire, though, John was faced with something of a dilemma. Namely: what to actually do next. He was coming to realise that forcing them to surrender had been a nebulous goal, and now that he'd achieved it, he wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation.

There were questions he could ask, of course. Many of them, even. He just didn't know which ones to go for, worrying about what he might inadvertently reveal about himself or his comrades in the process.

Also, this was exactly the kind of situation where he'd try to sound all tough, only for his voice to crack.

There was a mighty caw, drawing everyone's attention upwards. The crow swooped down, landing on the school sign, soon followed by the dove, which gave a little trill as it joined its comrade. John realised what was going to happen next too late to do anything about it, and so had no choice but to endure Polly and Zazu fluttering down to land on his shoulders. They immediately began their little dance, bobbing up and down, and for a moment he actually believed they might keep their beaks shut.

Then the parrots seemed to notice the trio standing at the school entrance.

"Motherfuckers," Polly said, sounding suspiciously like a bad impression of Samuel L Jackson.

"Cock juggling thundercunt," Zazu said, and at this point John was certain that was Ryan Reynolds' voice. What film was that quote even from? There was no way the parrots had actually met the Hollywood movie star and heard him say that.

"Punk ass bitch," Polly added.

"Fuck you," Zazu growled, wiggling its head.

Slowly, John reached up and pinched their beaks shut. They kept bobbing their bodies up and down, while his fingers kept their heads still. He had to resist the urge to growl. This was probably shattering the badass image he'd just imprinted in these guys' minds.

At least the trio ahead of him seemed to relax, every so slightly, now that his aim wasn't trained on them. They were far from completely at ease, but they didn't appear tensed for an attack, anymore.

Keenly aware that they didn't actually have all the time in the world, John decided to keep things simple, to start with.

"So," he called to them, trying to keep his voice level and deep without trying too hard. "Who are you guys?"

The trio seemed to pause, exchanging a look. Or, the red knight and the diamond mannequin man looked at the robed mage, who was kind of just hanging there limply, head bowed, breathing heavily. After a moment, the mage's hood twitched in a shallow nod.

"Marius," the red knight said in a heavily Polish accent, voice rough as gravel. He pointed at the diamond mannequin. "Farah. She cannot speak like this."

John frowned, both because he hadn't anticipated that diamond thing being a woman, and because, "She's stuck like that?"

The red knight hesitated to reply, checking with his two comrades, but the robed mage nodded again, and Marius obediently answered, "In a manner of speaking, yes."

An evasive answer, but John decided not to push. It was irrelevant. "And your mage guy?"

"Daniel," the mage answered for himself, voice still weak, barely carrying across the distance.

John nodded to himself. Their names weren't really the most important thing here, but asking had bought him time to think, and hopefully dispelled a bit of the tension that had built up in the silence after the brief, one-sided battle.

"Okay, Daniel, Marius, Farah." John grimaced. "Tell me, how many people have the three of you killed?"

And just like that, the tension ratcheted right back up. Marius' shoulders stiffened. Farah even stomped a step forward, fists clenching at her sides. Only Daniel's hand on the crook of her elbow stopped her, and his grip was white-knuckle tight.

"Did I hear judgement in your voice just then, Mr…?"

"I'm John," John said.

He glanced back at his comrades, who were all watching the exchange with varying degrees of incredulity, having moved into a diamond formation while John's attention was elsewhere; Doug at the tip, the girls at the flanks, and Chester at the back. They hadn't had the chance to get involved in the battle, though.

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At his look, they rattled off their names, then Doug carried on, "Yes, we're judgemental. If you were thinking about making some excuse about doing what you needed to do to survive, you should know that I was in Watford from the very start of all this, and I got the fuck outta here without ever killing anyone. You didn't have to play it this way."

"Maybe we haven't killed either," Marius growled.

"Nah," Doug said. "I can tell just by looking at you. Killers, all three."

Daniel wheezed a short laugh. "You got out?"

"I did."

"And you've come back?"

"I have."

"What for? Why would you come back to this nightmare?" The robed mage's voice carried the strain of desperation, and a hint of judgement.

"Whole world's a nightmare right now, kid," Doug said, devoid of sympathy. "But that's no excuse to start acting like a savage. In times of crisis, you have to cling to your humanity with all your strength, not throw it away. Otherwise, what's the point of surviving at all?"

"That wasn't an answer," Marius pointed out.

"Yes, it was," Doug disagreed.

A tense silence ruled for a handful of heartbeats. John took a deep, calming breath.

"How many people have the three of you killed?" he asked again, and he didn't at all need to do any special acting to summon the menace in his voice. It just came out. Kinda surprised him, honestly. He hadn't thought he was capable of it until that moment.

"Thirteen," Daniel replied, voice barely loud enough to hear.

John's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. He took his fingers off the parrots beaks, letting his arms aim forward again. "As a group, or just you?"

"As a group," Marius said. He squared his shoulders, seeming to stand taller. "We defended ourselves. We don't go seeking fights with other people, but we don't back down, either. There are bastards in this town much worse than us."

"And that display just then? Don't start acting like you weren't going to attack first," Doug said.

"That was—"

"Describe them," John snapped, interrupting. "Every single kill. I want to hear you justify them."

Daniel drew in a deep breath. "There were more people in our group, at first. Not all those kills can be attributed to us three."

Marius spoke, "Most were in the first day. None of us knew each other before all this, we just happened to be in the KFC when the giant insects came through, and nine of us ran the same way. Escaping the insects wasn't so difficult. And we gained superpowers to help us."

"The first kill in our group was revenge," Daniel interjected. "Some bastard caught one of our people off guard while she was going for a piss. Slit her throat. We chased him down and bashed his head in for it, but he took out another one of us in the process. The second and third were the same." His voluminous hood shifted as he glanced at Farah. "A pair of guys, they hurt Farah bad. So we got them back for it. Then some psycho bitch who knew the two guys wanted to get revenge on us for killing her piece of shit friends, and recruited four others. They fucking hunted us all through the first day, whittled down our group until it was just us three, but we got them all." He paused, looking at John. There was venom in his voice when he continued, "Do you want us to describe the exact way we killed them, too? I can tell you, if you want. I don't want to remember a single fucking moment of it, but I'll dredge that shit up just for you."

John just shook his head. His arms had lowered a fraction.

Daniel stared at him for a moment, breathing heavily. "They're all like that, you know? We didn't want to fucking kill anyone. I was a goddamn accountant. Marius was a plumber. Farah was a uni student. Do you think we wanted to become murderers? Do you think I want to have this on my conscience for the rest of my life? I can barely fucking sleep at night!"

Farah placed her hand on his shoulder, and Marius stooped a bit, giving him an easier hold to lean on.

"Fuck it. I'm not telling you a single thing more about how we got here. I don't need you judging me. Yes, I'm a killer. It's fucked up. It didn't need to happen. But it has, and I'd do it over and over again to keep these two alive."

A stiff gust of wind sighed across the town, kicking up dust and the last detritus of John's barrage of attacks. He wanted to sigh himself. This was the exact sort of thing he'd been worrying about, before he'd kicked off hostilities. There had always been the possibility that these people weren't murderous pieces of shit, and their experiences had shown them not to put their trust in strangers, adopting a shoot first policy to protect themselves from the predators that roamed Watford's streets.

They could still be lying, he thought as he watched them. But I think I made the right decision in going non-lethal.

"For what it's worth," John said, "we haven't killed anyone, and I don't particularly want that to change. I'll defend myself and my team, but I've got no beef with you."

The trio's tension didn't abate. "Sure. Then what do you want here?"

John eyed the Polish man's armour, then cut his gaze to Daniel's robe. Neither garments seemed like the kind of thing they could have picked up from a museum, and not even the most specialised hobbyist store would have ruby armour lying around. "You've been going after portals?"

The trio exchanged a look. Their reluctance was palpable when Daniel nodded.

"Know where any are?" John asked.

All three were perfectly still, their gazes fixed on John.

That's a yes. He eyed the school behind them. And I think I know where at least one might be. It's possible they're just using the school as their home base, I suppose. But I don't think so. There's not really any such thing as a 'home base' in this town. The whole premise of the place is about keeping the combatants on the move, herding them towards each other.

"We're here to destroy as many as we can before we move on to other objectives," he continued. "We reckon destroying them all will mean the monsters won't be able to replenish their numbers, and everyone will be able to get out of Watford without issue."

Ignoring the fact that many of them already would have been able to get out of Watford without issue, if they really tried. The swarms don't seem that frequent.

John grimaced. Oh, right. The swarms.

He swapped out one of his Spell slots for Mana Sense, and his grimace deepened.

"Anyway, three insect swarms are closing in on us, so I think it's about time we wrapped this up."

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