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Another puppet sprung out at Sheryl as she passed an intersection. It grabbed her and dragged her to the ground as she shrieked and tried to pull herself away.

Hector coated the attacker’s face. The groove for its mouth bumped harmlessly against Sheryl’s neck, but the puppet still thrashed. Hector completed the coating and then shoved the iron statue off of her.

She tried to get up and flee again, but he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

“It’s okay!” He pulled up the jaw of his helm, revealing his face. “Sheryl, look at me!”

Her glance turned to a stare. “H-Hector!”

“That’s right.”

“But you! Y-you killed that other guy! And--and--”

“He would have killed you,” Hector said. “Or someone else.”

“Why?! Who was he?! What the fuck is going on here?!”

“It’s--agh--it’s really hard to explain,” he said. “Please, you have to stay close to me. I have to--” And he realized that he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Just getting her out of the building didn’t seem like it would be enough. As long as Geoffrey was alive, she would be in danger. And so would the others. “Where are Gregory and Janine?” he asked.

“W-why? Are they in danger, too?”

“Yes.” He tried to keep his voice calm, for her sake as much as his own. “Do you know where they are?”

“Well, I--ah--” Trembling, she took a moment, squinting as she thought. “We usually come to school together, but uh--today it was just me and Micah. I, uh--I figured it was because of the power outage last night. A lot of people d-didn’t come to school today, because, b-because of that. Or I th-thought that was why, but m-maybe--”

“That’s good,” said Hector. “They’re safer at home.”

“Oh, that won’t make much difference,” said another voice, belonging to yet another of Geoffrey’s minions as it approached them from the rear corridor.

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He paused as he came out of the bathroom. A crowd of students was staring at him, and he briefly lost concentration again. And Micah’s face flashed in his mind. ‘No,’ he told himself, squinting inside his helm. ‘Not yet...! Don’t think about it yet!’

He took a wavering breath and stepped forward. The crowd shied away from him, and he saw their terrified faces. They were scared of him, he suddenly realized. Of course they were.

But there was no time. Hector ran for the teacher’s lounge, as fast as his unenhanced legs would allow. He soon grew winded, but that wasn’t enough to slow him down. The sight of Sheryl, however, made him stop.

She was still alive. Geoffrey hadn’t gotten to her yet. Hector ran toward her. She seemed frightened of him, too--or of the helm at least--but she couldn’t see the puppets stalking her from behind.

Four of them. The closest one leapt at her. Hector tackled it to the ground.

He tried to encase the other three in iron, but he was only able to seal their legs. The one below bit him above the elbow and tore out a chunk of flesh. Hector grit his teeth and made a metal knife. The puppet flailed, trying to throw him off, and he buried the blade into its eye socket. Blood spurted onto Hector’s helm and gloves as he held it there until the puppet stopped thrashing.

The other three had all fallen over without the use of their legs, but they still crawled toward the fleeing Sheryl. Hector finished encasing them and then ran after her.

“Wait!” he yelled. “Sheryl! It’s not safe!”

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

“It’s me! Hector! Please stop running!”

She did not seem interested in listening.

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What’s more, Hector feared himself when he was this angry. Most of all, he feared that he might accidentally hurt someone innocent.

So he suppressed the fury, smothered it in his mind until it was only a vague heat, a passenger to his thoughts instead of the driver. And he focused. All that meditation had not just been for imaginary power. At the very least, he knew how to clear his mind.

Hector knew Geoffrey’s power had grown. That was simple enough to deduce. And without Garovel, Hector had no access to regeneration or enhanced strength. But he still had his iron. And he sure as fuck wasn’t about to run away. Iron alone would have to do.

He arrived at the school, taking the side entrance into the building. His helm drew strange looks as he rushed through the halls. There were not as many students as usual, but searching was still a chore. He tried to be both quick and thorough, eyeing people carefully, searching for the vacant expression of a puppet.

Then he heard a series of shrieks and ran toward them. A group of students were fleeing from a long streak of blood that snaked into the boy’s bathroom.

He walked in on a scene of three people crouching over another. Crimson stains were everywhere. Hector recognized the dead body on the floor. Micah Chamberlain. The three people on top of him looked up in unison. All obviously puppets. Bloodied, ripped flesh hung from their lips.

“There you are,” one of them said for Geoffrey, spitting out a red gob. “I’m in the teacher’s lounge. Come meet me, and then we can--”

And they were completely encased in iron, all three at once, thick enough to render them entirely immobilized.

Hector left them there to suffocate.