SwirlyII-Part3 of the UK DUO

The world was blurred and hazy when Carnegie opened his eyes. Surroundings spinning, sky still dark, he felt the odd quiet around him like a dull wave.  Blinking, he pulled himself into a sitting position, throwing his balance off kilter and making him have to catch his head in his hand.

It didn't immediately strike him that the sky wasn't bright yet, like it usually was when he'd wake up after a long night, or that the air wasn't filled with the sounds of a crowded building coming to life in the morning. Nor did he notice that his shovel was missing until, upon regaining his bearings, all these realizations rained on his consciousness when he remembered one thing.

High-pitched shrieks of excitement weren't cutting through his grogginess, and no one was jumping up or down or demanding a breakfast. Karen wasn't there.

Carnegie looked around wildly, though he knew he wouldn't find the feisty redhead anywhere around. Slumping back onto the bench he had apparently fallen asleep on, he rubbed at his eyes and sighed. If he wanted to get off of this horrendous island for any reason, it was for his sister.

The island. The tournament… he jolted to his feet, searching the area again, as the game came back into his memory. His shovel was nowhere to be seen and-

His hand hit his forehead. He was supposed to wake up in the middle of the night to switch positions with Menda, so she could get some sleep too. Now, Carnegie had no idea where the unstable woman was. He also couldn't help but feel terrible for depriving her of sleep, which she had probably needed more than him.

Sidestepping past a small crab scuttling around on the ground, he walked aimlessly forward. Laelie's stand was a fair distance away – he remembered following Menda away from it wordlessly last night – but he knew Menda wouldn't go back there on her own. But that was the only place around that seemed to house any life. He started to worry; without Menda, he had no idea how he'd survive on this merciless island.

As he turned, something reached his ear. It was a light melody, somewhat rushed, tumbling over itself as it seemed to scramble to get the notes out. Innocuous as it sounded, it made Carnegie worry even more, seeing as he never knew what to expect from this place. Still, he followed it around an empty shop with festive glowing lights strung about its roof to the fenced off bank of a tranquil, artificial stream. There, sitting cross-legged by bright red metal tracks that arched high over the stream before sloping steeply down and banking by the ground was Menda, humming. In her hands was his shovel.

She seemed to be deep in thought, with her back towards him. Confused, Carnegie approached her quietly. Her humming grew louder and clearer before he realized what the familiar tune was. He remembered hearing it in church and teaching it to his sister…

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost and now am found, was blind but now I see," he sung almost by instinct.

Menda stopped humming abruptly and turned around when Carnegie finished. She stared at him, and with a shaky smile he shrugged.

"That… was very nice," she commented.

"Thanks… I suppose I was just so used to singing it… I taught my sister to sing it a while ago, and… Oh! Here," he rubbed the back of his head before giving a start and reaching out his hand to help her up.

"You taught your sister to sing Amazing Grace?" she took his hand gushing. "That is so sweet! Thank you, dear."

"Karen's amazing at singing," he beamed, then looked at his shovel in her hands.

"Wonderful! Oh… oh right, right I'm sorry. I… cleaned it. See?" Menda held the blade up beside her face, in which Carnegie could see his near-perfect reflection. "Better than new, I'd say!"

"Thank you," he replied, taking it. "It is better than new… though… did you spend all night cleaning this?"

"Um… no?"

"Menda, you need to get some sleep… This is a dangerous thing we've gotten ourselves into, and I know that you… well…"

"I'm the one handling most of the business, hm?" she smiled warily. "Don't worry about me, Car. I wouldn't have slept a wink even if I tried."

"W-well, you don't know that, now if we're attacked by something or someone again you'll be sleep deprived and who knows what could happen…!" he stammered.

Menda grasped his hand and brought it up in between them, offering another bright smile. "I promise you, there is nothing to worry about. Okay?"

"…oh, well, okay."

With a squeeze she let his hand go. "So where to next, then, Captain Car?"

"Er, well… I suppose we have to find our next opponent," Carnegie said hesitantly.

"Right you are, dear!" she announced without missing a beat. "Alright, then…"

Putting her hands on her hips, she lifted her nose into the air and was a statue of alertness. Carnegie couldn't help but notice that she had dark lines under her eyes, even though her manner was the exact same as it had been before. It troubled him that she was like this now, and made him worry that it couldn't possibly last for her for much longer when her arm shot out like an arrow from her body.

"That direction!" Menda cried. She promptly began marching in the direction she had pointed to. "Might want to hurry, too; a train will be coming soon."

"Huh?" he looked at her, surprised as she grabbed his wrist and quickly dragged him over the red tracks with her. An instant later three connected metal cars shot down the tracks, wind whooshing by to keep up with them. "What was that!?"

"That, my dear Mr. 1890, was a rollercoaster, which is a modern-day thrill for those who like adrenaline rushes. It is a train of cars that takes passengers along a track that goes up, down, and all around at breakneck speed before bringing them back to the original station, where they are released and more flood in for the same ride."

"Wh-"

"Come on!" she practically sung out loud, merrily kicking aside another crab. "We don't want to keep our opponent waiting, now do we?"

----

Charlie had woken up when it was still pitch black.

He knew, he knew he needed more sleep, or his aura would never recharge enough for another battle. Judging from the color of the sky and the feeling of his spiritual energy fueling his strength, he had gotten around five hours of sleep at the most. Going through the routine calculations, he approximated that he had a little over half of his aura left. It was a decent but still concerning amount. He didn't know how many more opponents he'd have to face, and how much more rest he'd be able to get, and he really hated to leave something like this to chance.

But while his determination to win urged him to get more sleep, it was also the force keeping him awake. He couldn't let anyone catch him off guard – it had to be the other way around, because he had to prove that he was stronger than them to go home.

Thinking about his "home," he scowled. An aura master who just belittled him constantly was technically his home now, which was a terrible thing to think about. If he won this and went back, Charlie would show him. He'd prove to his master that he wasn't just a little kid and he was worth something and…

So early in the morning, the young boy found only mutated animals – which he could swear hadn't been there the morning he had arrived – to fight. He didn't really care, though, mindlessly taking care of them as he thought endlessly and looked out for an opponent.

---

She led him past dozens of jauntily-lit shops, eateries, and small rides. To their left was always the stream, though. On the other side of the stream stood the tall clock tower, looming overhead in the inky sky. Carnegie repeatedly looked up at its spire as he ran after Menda, but didn't linger on it for too long at a time. At one point he convinced himself to stop.

"Are you quite sure… You know… Where you're going?!" he panted, trying to keep up with her.

"Of course!" she flailed her arms around to show that it was obvious. "The signs are there, Car."

He saw no signs but followed her anyway.

---

All the crabs she had seen were going in a certain direction – away from over there. And, Menda assured herself, she had seen many a crab go by. Also, she could faintly hear the sound of… well, something hitting the ground. It was definitely the sound of a battle, though from the hardly perceptible roars coming from the place as well, she wasn't sure what kind of battle she should expect.

She really wished she would be right, though – to find her opponent on the first try would be ideal. This would lead into a quick surprise attack – whoosh in, whoosh out. Clear-cut and simple. In fact, Carnegie wouldn't even have to notice.

Menda was starting to wonder if she was shielding the Scot too much – he wasn't that much younger than her. Maybe he should've been able to stand a single fight?

But immediately she shook her head. He had a family. He had a family and so that simply would not do. A young man with a family should not have to stain his hands so when there was someone else with so little to lose around willing to do it for him. He had a family. That would not do. It simply would not do.

The mantra followed her as she jogged in the crisp morning air. Looking back over her shoulder occasionally, she was relieved to see Carnegie was always following her…

…but disturbed by the rustles in the shadows...

---

"Stop, stopstopstopstop, stop," Menda raised a hand and skidded to a halt. Carnegie almost ran into her.

"What is it?"

"Over there," she whispered. "And a three, two, one…"

A terrifying roar echoed through the air, raising goosebumps on Carnegie's skin.

"…there we go."

"How did you know that?!"

"Signs, Car, signs."

"I'm not seeing these signs."

"That's alright, dear. You'll hear them when you're older."

Taken aback, Carnegie watched as she strode confidently around another small building, this one with its back to the fence. Their conversation was hard to miss.

"Hello, good morning – oh! Oh, it… it seems you've killed a lion, well… well um. That's really quite pleasant. Good show, good show. So, what's your name, dear?"

He was glad she was not immediately diving into attacking him, like she had with Krampus, but… why did she sound so apprehensive? Knowing Menda, a dead lion wouldn't really faze her… the thought stalled Carnegie for another moment. Shaking his head, he went to join Menda-

"Oh, Jesus and Mary."

---

The second she called out to him, the small boy stiffened.

"Good… good show, good show, really. So… what's your name, dear?" Menda asked.

Turning, he glared at her. His short black hair was straight and messy, he had wide eyes with a jaded expression in a gaunt face, and his left arm was almost torn to shreds. Wrapped in a fraying and torn blue jacket like a poncho, he would've been a sad picture if he hadn't just apprehended a giant scaled lion.

"Who are you?" his voice grated on itself like a sore throat, but was unmistakably that of a young boy.

"Me? Oh, you know me. My name is Menda, this, this here is Carnegie," she patted Carnegie's shoulders. "He's a very nice fellow. So then who are you?"

"Does it matter? You two are my opponents," he shifted into an offensive stance.

"Short on words, eh?" her eyes flicked to Carnegie for a moment, who was staring at the boy in shock. "But why? Come now, you could bear to take a few minutes to get to know us, couldn't you?"

"No, I really couldn't," he raised his hand and it started to glow.

"Oh, dear, glowing limbs are never a good sign. Come on!" She grabbed Carnegie and pulled him out of the way before a blue light shot out of their opponent's hand and blew apart an establishment behind them. "What was that, anyway?"

Coughing, Carnegie looked up and saw that the boy had jumped back, but was already trying to get a shot at them again.

"H-how old are you…!?"

Head turning sharply, the boy seemed surprised. "How old am I? What difference does it make? I already-"

"It does make a difference!" Carnegie sputtered. "If you're… if you're… this young then how could you survive on this island?! How could you stand it?!"

He didn't answer, only letting off another blast that Menda had to pull Carnegie out of the way of and jumping away.

"Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear this isn't good, not only was he not polite enough to leave his name, he's trying to get distance from us… and as you can probably tell his attacks are pretty good from a long distance…" Menda furrowed her brow in thought. "That's no good. But if we get closer to him, then we would have to deal with them at point blank range, which would be incredibly dangerous…"

"You're… you're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"Hm?" she looked at him. "Well of course… oh, you."

"He's just a little boy, Menda…"

"Of course, first she's a girl. A young and friendly girl who stabs us in the back. Then it's a lecherous old fart, and he's too old to hurt. Who do you want to not get hurt, Car? The young, the old, or us?"

"W-well… I don't know, it's just… look at him. You can tell he's gone through as much as we have, y'know?"

"But he's still trying to kill us. I did really try to be nice to him, I really did, but he wouldn't even give a straight reply. Obviously he's past formalities, so why can't we be?"

"Because we're not that young! Shouldn't we know better?"

She eyed him warily. "You're sounding like a parent to a boy you've just met, Car."

"I guess," he stared down awkwardly. "I guess I'm just used to doing that for Karen, and… for him it's like a natural instinct."

Menda paused. "How about, Mr. Father of the Year, how about this. You try to talk some sense into him. If he hurts you, then I'll have to get him."

"But Menda-"

Suddenly she pushed him to the ground when another shot flew in between them. Rushing forward to help him up, she continued.

"Hold on. I didn't mention that I'd be protecting you, because I didn't think I had to!" she grinned. "How does that sound?"

"But what if you get hurt?"

"And when I met you, you were the most optimistic person I'd ever met. Come now, Car," she patted his cheek playfully. "Do I look like I'm going to get hurt by a preteen who likes blue fire in… his hands I suppose?"

"Um…"

"Exactly, now come on."

---

Somehow, Carnegie always found himself running after Menda. Occasionally she told him to duck, he did, blue fire streaked by and they kept going. Neither they nor the boy had left the side of the stream, which seemed to meander throughout the entire park.

By a merry-go-round, Menda came to a sudden stop. She looked around cautiously.

"What is it?" he asked. "Where did he go?"

"Now… that's a good question… Oh, goodness."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes… come on, quickly, into the safety of the unicorns."

"Wh-"

Somehow, he also found himself being dragged places by Menda. In this case, the "safety of the unicorns" – meaning the seats of the merry-go-round, meticulously carved and lovingly painted only to have most of their detail wither away to age.

"What are we doing here?!"

"Don't look now, but he is high up there, sitting on the roller coaster tracks…"

Carnegie sneaked a peek and saw that on the tracks towering over the rides and stands, at the summit before a long drop down, sat the boy they had been chasing.

"What is he doing there…?"

"Oh, Car, think a moment. He's been shooting at us from afar – where better to snipe from than a place that high up where we wouldn't even notice him?"

"I suppose…" he gulped. "How do we get to him then?"

"We don't," she shrugged. "We wait for him to come down."

"Just… wait?"

"Well, that… or… do you suppose you could yell up to him?"

---

Gripping the cold metal like a vise, Charlie scoured the ground. Disregarding the sickness he felt in his stomach whenever he looked down, he couldn't believe he had lost them. One moment they had been there, the next they had disappeared.

From his perch on the tracks, he knew he couldn't shoot at them with perfect accuracy – or perfect strength. He had hoped he could hit one of them with a weak shot from up here, then swoop in to finish the job. It was the morning, and Charlie was hoping for the easiest job he could get.

Though, he reflected, since when was murder an easy job? He had probably asked himself this a thousand times over during the night and maybe even in his dreams. The only answer he could come up with was that it wasn't, until you did it.

Then, it was never quite the same.

---

"Careful… careful…"

"Menda, we're just stepping out off of the platform of this carousel…"

"Still, best be careful with a killer on your heels, hm?"

"Don't call him that."

"I'm sorry, Car. Now if you'd just stand… here… a little the left… there."

"Does it matter so much where I stand…?" Carnegie asked after she was done adjusting his position.

"Sort of, but you wouldn't be able to tell, dear. Now yell, since you are so desperate to talk to the boy. Yell your soul out!" she extravagantly threw out her arms like the overzealous conductor of an orchestra.

"Er… hey! Hallo!" he yelled.

"…why don't you tell me what to yell, Car?"

"That… might work better."

"Indeed it would! Now begin dictating."

"Well, you need to get his attention first…"

"Of course!" she started to jump up and down. Then, with a flash of genius passing over her face, she took out her knives and waved them around.

"What are you doing with those?!" Carnegie jumped back.

"Oh, calm your horses and get back into position. They're metal blades, clean and reflective. He'd be blinded by them, can't miss 'em!" she explained quickly. "Now for this you've got to yell with me. Heeeeey! Halloooooo! Give him a yodel!"

"I… I think he noticed you," he pointed up to the tracks, where the boy was evidently readying another shot.

"Watch this," Menda grinned, more darkly than she had before, but Carnegie dismissed it. She twisted the blades around in the air, turning them this way and that.

"What are you… oh goodness!"

"He must be tired, don't you think? Fighting all those… scaly lions… and from up there, maybe he's dizzy… so a bright light right into his eye-"

"-Would make him fall?!"

"…oh. Oh, dear."

---

There they were.

Finally, Charlie thought, warming his hand with aura to throw another shot at them. His fingers were getting numb up at his height, at this time of morning. Squinting down at their tiny shapes to steady his aim, he suddenly cringed. A bright flash of light had disappeared as quickly as it had come, but still managed to make him tear up slightly. Blinking furiously, he looked down again before realizing his mistake.

Charlie could barely make out the tiny shape of a knife in Menda's hand, just before it twitched slightly and shot another searing light into his eyes.

"Argh!" he winced, raising his hands to rub at his eyes. His position wobbled. Hand immediately shooting out to hold on, he noticed too late that it was his shredded left arm – it missed and pushed his precarious situation over the edge.

The feeling of falling was disturbingly familiar… but this time rather than water, there was hard concrete waiting for him at the bottom. He had to break his fall or he would die – or suffer such great injuries that he might as well die, but Charlie wasn't going to waste his time on such thoughts. Acting on the first plan that came to mind, he twisted out of his father's mangled jacket and held it above his head, letting it billow in the wind rushing by and praying that it would slow his descent.

Just outside of the loud wind in his ears Charlie could hear someone yelling – probably his opponents cheering on his death. Well, I'm not dead yet, he thought bitterly as he crashed into the aging roof of a game booth.

---

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Car-" Menda repeated over and over again. "I didn't do it on purpose I swear I swear I thought he'd just come down-"

"It's okay!" he yelled behind his shoulder to her. "Just take deep, slow breaths and we'll find in him in a second!"

Slowing down her breathing or her desperate heart was at the moment impossible for her. She was shocked and genuinely scared that when that boy hit the ground, he wouldn't get back up. He has to, he has to, he has to, I can't kill him, I can't…

Oddly enough, the calmest thought in her head was that for once, Carnegie was ahead of her.

---

Running as fast as he possibly could, Carnegie skidded around a tall support strut of the roller coaster track way overhead and straight to the now-wrecked stand the boy had crash landed in. He heard groaning sounds coming from inside it, which sent relief washing over him like a tide.

Stepping over wooden pieces that had scattered on the ground and frazzled crustaceans scuttling about in mass hysteria, he peered into the creaking little broken shop and grabbed at the first sign of life he saw – the boy's bloody arm. Carnegie pulled him out gingerly, hoping that he didn't have any broken bones because he didn't know what he'd do if the boy was that hurt.

"Hey, hey," he set the boy down against the stand's wall, which had managed to remain standing. "Are you okay?"

Blinking slowly, the boy coughed lightly before looking up at Carnegie with confusion. "Wh-who are you?"

"That's a silly question, Menda told you; my name's Carnegie. Now, are you alright, lad?" Carnegie ignored the injured boy's sputtering and brushed his hand over his forehead before pointing to his mangled arm. "What happened there…?! Here…"

He ripped the sleeve of his shirt into bandage-like strips and tied them around Charlie's arm carefully. "What's your name, anyway?"

"M-my name is Charles," he admitted after another cough before trying to tug his arm away. "I'm okay, I don't need you-"

"Charles," Carnegie said, tightening a knot at Charles' elbow. "What a formal name. And don't be silly, your arm'll get infected just like that!"

Now Menda silently walked in behind them. Seeing the knives still in her hands, Charles became apprehensive and more insistent on getting his arm back.

"Let me go-"

"Only when it's done," Carnegie chided him.

"Car, what are you doing?" Menda crossed her arms, frowning. "You haven't forgotten that this boy is our opponent, have you?"

"You haven't forgotten that he's just a child, either, have you?" Carnegie replied after jumping at her sudden appearance.

"I'm not just a child!" Charles growled at him halfheartedly. "I-"

"Of course not, Charlie. And there you go," patting his neatly-bound arm, Carnegie stood up and offered Charles a hand.

"No, I haven't, but see? He doesn't want your help," Menda continued. "If he doesn't think he's a child anymore, then why bother trying to convince him?"

"Because children don't always know what's good for them," he said. "Whether they be small or in Charlie's case, somewhat bigger. I don't care what's happened to him before, he doesn't deserve to have to kill people to live…"

"Does that mean we do, then?"

---

He only half listened to what the blonde was saying to him. Charles' head was only starting to begin to clear after landing his fall. After the impact it felt like two giant pillows had engulfed his head, dulling his senses and leaving him with the sensation of what he was sure was a concussion. Sound echoed around his skull like ripples of water and his own actions felt surprising.

As his thinking got straighter, though, his situation seemed to make less sense.

This man, whatwashisname had rushed to his aid after his friend had made Charlie fall the height of a tall roller coaster drop. Now he was asking if he was alright and trying to wrap up his arm. Was he really his opponent? What happened to desperate duos and bloodthirsty demons who seemed so eager to kill him?

And here this man was wrapping up the scars of his past fights.

Charles thought he had the whole kill-to-win thing about this island figured out. It didn't matter who he killed as long as he won in the end. But whatshisname… Who are you? Carnegie, was offering him something he could hardly even remember anymore… Something from his parents?

His poor, dead parents. If only…

This was why he had to get back no matter what, he remembered again. He had to become stronger, so nothing like that could ever happen to him again… of course. Ringing in his ears were Carnegie's words growing somewhat clearer; he was asking him what his name was, again.

My name is Charles and I don't need you…

The relief of having his left arm wrapped instead of open in the cold morning air was wonderful, though. Achieving goals could wait a moment, couldn't it?

Until the woman walked in, swinging around her knives – the knives that had blinded him and caused him to fall in the first place…! She was more like a competitor, more like the threat he was used to. Let me go let me go, he pulled at his arm.

"Car, what are you doing? You haven't forgotten that this boy is our opponent, have you?"

"You haven't forgotten that he's just a child, either, have you?"

Again with the condescension. Frustrated, he protested, "I'm not a child!" but was brushed off.

With his mind's clarity now quickly returning, so did his drive. It didn't matter, really, what this man did for him because in the end, Charles was finding a way back. He knew he'd find an opponent in one of them, at least.

---

Menda's frown and almost pleading eyes made Carnegie almost immediately realize that he had struck a nerve in her, but he didn't know what. Confused, he missed Charlie not taking his hand to get up.

"Thank you," Charles said quietly, rising to his shaky feet on his own.

"Are you alright?" Carnegie asked again.

"I'm fine," Charles replied through grit teeth. "But now one of us has to win, or lose."

"But, Charlie, you're hurt-"

"I don't plan on losing," he deadpanned, hand beginning to glow blue again.

---

"Look out!" Menda cried. Lunging forward, her hand hit Charles' wrist sharply – his aura blast went off prematurely and blew a smoking hole into the ground.

She pushed Carnegie away from him as Charles came back to deal a nonmagical blow. Dodging it to the side, she slashed her hooked knife in a long arc as he jumped back nimbly.

"What are you doing?!" Carnegie yelled. "Stop!"

"You still try to tell me to stop, even now?!" Menda asked angrily. "I don't think I really have a choice, Car. He's kind of attacking me!"

"Both of you! You don't have to do this, I mean-"

"Oh Car," she laughed shrilly as she narrowly evaded a few punches. "You still don't even know what you really have to do, do you?"

"I-I do," he gulped. "Of course I do, I mean, I've been watching you all this time!"

"Watching is the key word here, my dear."

---

Carnegie was still screaming for both of them to stop.

Charlie brushed him off, though, focusing on the fight. Menda was fast – she swung wildly but almost always immediately closed off any openings. She was showy, too, though. If he could just catch her in the middle of one of her long sweeps with one of his blasts, at this range she would easily be done for.

Watching closely, he anticipated his moment coming. Charging his aura in his hand again, at precisely the moment the handle of that knife touched her shoulder and started its trip down – he aimed for her chest, a simple and quick shot to end it. She was lucky, though; twisting herself, she caught the blast with the knife in her hand. The knife disintegrated in seconds, but it afforded her the few seconds that saved her. The ruined blade, she just tossed over her shoulder.

Meanwhile Carnegie gave up yelling for them to stop – now he was trying to speak reason into them while they were fighting.

"Charlie! Charlie!" he cried. "I… I don't know if you can hear me, from trying to kill Menda and all, but please. Please don't do this. You're not even an adult! I can't believe you somehow even got sucked into this, but it doesn't have to be this way. I… I don't know any other way it could be, but oh.

"You probably don't know why I'm trying to help you so much… but you know what? You remind me of my sister. A lot, I mean. You're her age, her size, you even have kind of the same attitude, you know, she's kind of stubborn too…

"I can't stand the idea of someone her age killing someone. I can't stand to think about what it must be like, to be so young and to kill…!"

Around now he stopped. Charles heard him but hardly actually listened. He was intent on defeating the brunette woman. Her responses were obviously getting slower – probably for fatigue – and she was on the offensive much less, instead being pushed back by Charles' weak but constant attacks.

He hadn't even realized where he was pushing her while he was looking for openings to finish her quickly. Charlie found himself by the bright red tracks of the roller coaster.

---

"Here again, oh! Roller coaster, what would I do without you," Menda mumbled, sparing a quick glance to one side of the tracks. Instantly she thought of Carnegie – if he was around, she'd have to tell him to stay away from the roller coaster again, but she had no idea if he had followed them or not. In the midst of all the blows aimed at her life, she didn't get the chance. "Do you like roller coasters, Charlie?"

When he didn't reply, she sighed. "Oh come now!"

Menda jumped backwards onto the tracks – or, actually, the train that had come so perfectly on time with her prediction. "Still want to fight?"

His reaction was instantaneous; his landing on the last car of the train whizzing by, only slightly wobbly.

"So Charlie," Menda began, sitting down on her knees facing the back of the train in one of the cars and seeming to have no issue with possibly flying off. "You heard what Carnegie was saying, didn't you?"

The blast he shot was lost to the air above them as they dipped sharply.

"Dear, no part of this roller coaster is going to be straight enough for you to get a good shot," she lied. "Just hold on and talk with me, won't you?"

Charlie refused to sit down, though. "This isn't a game or a tea party. One of us has to win."

"And that can wait," Menda said placidly. "You know, I noticed from the very beginning. You have an accent, don't you?"

"Yes… so?"

She propped her chin up in her hand nonchalantly. "I haven't heard another genuine Brit for I don't even know how long now. Seven? Eight years? Ah, what does it matter to you? It just made me feel nostalgic, is all."

The boy was starting to look uncomfortable.

"You know, just for wondering's sake, how old are you, dear? Car's said his sister is around ten, eleven. You seem a bit older than that. Twelve?"

"Thirteen," he said softly.

She nodded. "Ah, thirteen. First year of being a teenager, eh?"

"Why are you suddenly being so… nice?"

"What?" she flicked her wrist in a circle a few times. "Am I supposed to try and kill you on a roller coaster? 'Oh, ah, I am so smart, me and my knife and I on a these moving cars, oh yes!' Seems rather stupid, doesn't it?"

"Then why did you jump on it in the first place?"

"I wanted to have a talk. Is that so wrong?"

Charlie was about to respond when at the crest of the tall hill - the very one he had attempted to snipe Menda and Carnegie from earlier - with the additional height of standing up in a car, he was hit in the face by a heavy branch.

"Oh, no–!"

Standing and stumbling forward as the train began to gain speed downhill, Menda was just able to grab his hand and pull him back into relative safety. He fell into Menda's arms, hardly conscious.

Menda looked expectantly to the east and saw exactly what she was hoping for – the faint hues of sunrise. At precisely that moment, the infinitesimal lights dancing below them began to wink out, one by one, stand by stand, and the roller coaster slowed its descent. In the growing morning light, rust revealed itself on the discolored tracks and sparks flew as the train fought to stop.

They pulled into a perfect makeshift station just at the bottom of the hill by the ground, where Menda had been sitting alone before. There, Carnegie was nowhere to be seen, as was anyone else. Menda looked up at the wispy clouds drifting by for a moment before looking down at the young boy she held.

"Did I tell you how much Car talks about his sister? A lot," her giggles turned to a sigh. "I suppose it means he loves her a lot, huh? And he compared you to her… he didn't seem very keen on hurting anyone on this island, but I think you bothered him the most. You really mattered to him for a while, for reminding him of her, I suppose. Kind of sweet, isn't it?"

He stirred lightly. "And then, of course, there's you. Charlie, I don't know what happened to you here, or elsewhere, but… I hope you weren't so jaded when you arrived here. A young boy like you would never get a girl like that, hm?"

---

Judging by the fact that he was still on the roller coaster, Charlie knew that he could not have been out very long. Still, the effects left him unwilling to move; also, Menda was talking to him. While he was asleep?

Then maybe this was important.

She talked a bit about Carnegie's sister… it did explain why Carnegie had been so protective of him, even ripping his sleeve and arguing with Menda for him.

Then she talked about him. She wondered aloud what he was like when he got here. In retrospect, Charles knew what he really was when he arrived: weak. He would never have won, or been able to protect anyone if he had stayed that way –

And here he was back on the topic of winning, being strong, for his parents.

He opened his eyes, and raised his hand to her face.

---

"I can't stand the idea of someone her age killing someone. I can't stand to think about what it must be like, to be so young and to kill…! I couldn't bear to even think about… my sister having to kill someone…" Carnegie couldn't go on yelling. He really couldn't bear it, and just thinking about it made him want to hug Karen, which in turn filled him with overwhelming homesickness.

He knew that he couldn't really be of any use to whatever battle they were fighting, anyway.

Shouldering his shovel, he walked a distance behind them to make sure they were alright. When they jumped on that roller coaster, he was frightened by the loud sounds it made and the speed with which it went by but followed the track anyway.

When dawn broke, though, and the lights started flickering off and the train began to screech to a painful halt, the sparks raining down on him underneath the tracks made him jump out of his skin. Ducking and clutching his shovel, he watched the bright sparks fly in its polished reflection.

Something else was on the blade's surface, though. Carnegie could barely make it out, but it was unmistakable. It was the hardly visible outline of a washed-off blood stain.

"I… cleaned it. See?"

He had swung the shovel as hard as he could against Krampus's head…

His eyes widened.

A moment later he heard Menda scream.

---

Charles jumped out of the car immediately. He knew Carnegie would come to help his partner, especially after such a petrifying scream. Sure enough, in moments he rushed to them, running alongside the tracks.

"Menda! Menda, what happened?!" he cried. "Charlie, do you – oh my god! Y-you didn't!"

He didn't need Carnegie crying out his sins, or making him feel hesitation. He had to be strong to win, he had to win to be strong, he had to kill to win, he had to kill him, now or never –

---

The second Carnegie saw Menda with her bloody head in her hands, he knew that he had to defeat Charlie.

He had to. It was up to him. It was a terrible feeling of responsibility, which, he realized with some guilt, had mainly been the duty of Menda up until now.

Running in random directions to evade Charlie's quick shots, he tried to get closer to him to knock him out with his shovel. But he wasn't exactly being stealthy.

"I really wish," Carnegie began wistfully, "that you were more like my sister…"

Charlie slowed down for a moment, surprised or confused or whatever he was–

"Then I know you wouldn't make yourself do this."

The strong glancing blow to Charles' raven head from behind sent him reeling before finally collapsing on the ground.  Carnegie watched for a moment, then upon realizing he wasn't going to get back up, clapped his hand over his mouth.

---

"This is bad," Chic frowned, scanning the screens on the wall before her.

"What is it now? Did Quil let some more circus animals out?" from leaning on the window ledge, Zut perked up.

"No, it's the dogs-"

"Are they blowing up?!"

"What?" she turned, perplexed but not surprised at him. "No, they are not blowing up, but they might as well be… the creatures are attacking them like robot dogs are their favorite prey! This is bad… without these things, how am I supposed to contact Lan and Lae? Or gather information on the rounds?"

"You could always just look out the window," Zut sidled up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, giggling like mad. "Something's actually happening out there, now, too."

"Ack! Not now – wait. Did you say you could see a match from the window?"

"…if it'd make you happy then I'd say it's a match."

Chic rushed out of his arms and to the window. Far below, in the corner of the pane she could dimly make out the form of the child with the black hair who blasted blue energy being struck in the head by the young blonde man with the shovel.

"Do you think that killed him?" she turned to Zut.

"Hm, not really. It looked kinda half-assed," he judged.

"Good," she returned to the screens.

"What are you doing now? I thought we were going to watch a match…!"

"Match is over," she said simply, evidently more relaxed. "Time to get rid of the loser."

"At least now you know the magic of the window!" Zut beamed.

"Yes, yes of course I do…" a few taps of the keyboard later, Chic pivoted on her heel away from the wall of screens. She threw her arms around his neck. "Just a few more deaths to go, I can tell."

---

Dashing away from a roaring armored lion, a metallic dog's bright red eyes blinked twice. Immediately it took a sharp left turn, where it almost collided with another robot of its kind. Skidding off of the impact, the dog paused, watching as the huge cat switched focus and pounced at the other dog. It then darted back in the direction it came from and followed the fenced off stream.

Running past Lan and Lae's stand, it followed its order's directions to an unconscious boy on the ground. No one was around.

The dog pushed its snout under the boy's head and bit onto the back of his shirt before dragging him away.

---

"After I finish wrapping it up for now, we can go get help from Laelie and Faolan from their stand, okay?" Carnegie ripped another strip of cloth from his sleeve and wrapped it around Menda's forehead. "Until then… this should hold up."

Nodding painfully, Menda looked down with a wince. "I can't believe I let this happen…"

"It's not your fault," he comforted her, rolling up what was left of his sleeves and sitting next to her. "I guess you… did what you had to do, right?"

"Right," she replied, unsure.

"And… thanks for cleaning my shovel."

She looked up at him. "…you're welcome."

He offered her a bright beam, and she returned a small smile.