The two Hunt Initiative men stared at Skye and Zac like they were somehow more frightening than the slasher. Zac wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or flattered.

“Who are you?” the one who couldn't keep a gun in his hands demanded. The other one had called him Paul.

“I am Agent Reaper of Labyrinth. This is Zac.” Skye paused. “Names are good. Names remind me y'all are people not... targets. Give me your names.”

“Uh... no... I... names have power.” Paul said.

“I can kill you with no magic. I could have broken your neck just now,” Skye said. “Names. Now.”

“I'm Jeff,” the whimpering one said.

“Not gonna tell you.” Paul crossed his arms.

“Jeff,” Zac said, “just now called you Paul.”

It was a good thing Paul had no magic. Or Zac might have caught fire from the force of his glare. As it stood, Zac just smirked at him and waved to the door behind him.

“If you'll come with us,” Zac said, “Several of your fellows take shelter in the mall's main business office.”

“Zac,” Skye said, looking up, “the Slasher is active. I think I can get to its prey first but I have to move. Now.”

“I'll get these two to safety,” Zac promised, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth. Again, he was leaving the child to fight alone.

“I meant it,” she said, to him or them he could not tell, “about shooting anyone who does something stupid. You, uh, can use a gun?”

“Skye," Zac said, "I'm a veteran of three wars. I can fire any gun you humans have ever made. Though, I do prefer a rifle.”

“I'll remember that,” Skye said, already sliding out from under the grate.

Zac motioned the men in front of him, and crawled out, standing quickly. He watched Skye slip into the darkness at a run. He glanced at the two men.

“So.” Zac crossed his arms. “I need to get back to her side as quickly as I can. Are either of you injured?”

Two head shook slowly.

“Good. Keep up, then. If you fall behind I'll not stop to gather you up.”

Zac turned on his heel and began running, slowly for him. He had to give the two humans a chance to keep up and, well, he still wasn't up to his best. He wasn't about to admit that to them, though.

“Hey!” Jeff grabbed at Zac's arm, “Are you really leaving that little girl behind?”

Zac shrugged him off. “If you can talk, you can run!” He added a burst of speed, and skidded around the corner to the entrance.

He froze in place, meaning that Paul slammed painfully into his back. Zac didn't care. He stared at the Slasher, which had just appeared from the shadows at the end of the hall. It was now between Zac and the office, and Skye was nowhere to be seen.

It had adapted again; it must know Skye could track it. It had lured her away and then abandoned its prey to come for the rest of them.

Zac glanced back at the two men. Jeff, with his big ears and his lighter and Paul with his gun pointed at a little girl. Were they worth dying for?

The slasher laughed, and walked towards them. One step. Another. Flame red eyes locked onto Zac's. A knowing smile. Zac couldn't see the smile, but it was there. The creature knew what Zac was considering. It knew he wanted to leave the men to their fates.

He'd told Skye they weren't evil, only afraid. Did they deserve to die? Maybe, but could Zac stand by and watch it happen?

“Give me back my gun,” Paul demanded.

Zac was tempted to do so. It would draw the slasher's attention, give Zac a chance to attack. Or flee. But the man would as likely shoot him as the slasher. He shook his head.

“The mall office. The others are there. Go when I distract it.”

He might as well try. If the thing was allowed to kill more of them, it would grow stronger and be harder for Skye to fight. For her sake, if not for the sake of his own conscience, he had to try to save them.

Skye could sense the thing, and him. She would know he was fighting it; all he had to do was keep it occupied for a few minutes. And keep it away from the room full of victims just a few yards away. With only a useless gun for a weapon.

Easy.

Zac drew the gun, because why not? Shooting it would not kill or even disperse it, but it would draw the damned thing's attention. He slipped the safety off. It was a Glock 17 with what looked like a standard magazine, so there were a maximum of 15 rounds.

“When I fire,” he muttered, “run!”

And then he took aim. He shot the creature between the eyes, which of course only made it laugh. Then in rapid succession, he shot it in both knees, the elbows, and the shoulder. His ears rang painfully. He hated firing a gun in an enclosed environment. The echoes were murder.

“Whoa. You can shoot,” Paul said.

“I told you to run,” Zac snarled, shoving the man. He turned back, to see the slasher had moved forward while his attention was on the man. Now it was only a half dozen paces away.

“B—but it'll grab us,” Jeff whimpered.

“It'll focus on me,” Zac said. “Just go!”

He fired again, a shot for the gut this time. For a wonder, the slasher grunted. Had that actually hurt it? He shot it again, and again. The slasher only laughed, and then the gun clicked empty. It hadn't been fully loaded. Of course.

Zac dropped the gun and ran at the slasher, hoping the men had the sense to obey but seriously doubting it.

He just had to hold out for a few minutes. He could do this.

He collided with the slasher, shoulder forward to take the brunt of the impact. He hooked a foot around its knee and jerked, taking it off balance. With all his strength he pushed, and the slasher toppled onto its back.

Zac stomped on its gut, hoping to compound any damage he might have done with the gun. The slasher grabbed him by the ankle and laughed, standing up in one smooth, impossible motion. Zac dangled from its massive fist, ankle screaming pain and blood rushing to his head.

He hung there, frantically struggling for a moment, and then he was airborne, tossed aside to crash, agonizingly, into a mesh steel grating. He crumpled to the ground, fighting to breathe.

The creature stomped towards him. The world wavered and spun.

He hoped he wasn't about to die again.