Maarg stood over Gabby, the injured man's sudden rescuer. The acrid smell of burning accelerant and scorching metal filled the air, a grim backdrop to their strained conversation. "You alright?" Maarg asked, his face a mask of grim determination, betraying none of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
Gabby grunted, pushing himself up with his good arm, wincing as his sprained ankle protested. He eyed the fallen figures around them, then met Maarg's gaze. As Maarg looked away for a split second, scanning the smoke-filled corridor, Gabby swiftly and subtly tucked the Desert Eagle back into its hidden holster on his leg. "As alright as I can be after a close shave," he rasped, gesturing with his head towards the deepening inferno. "You need to go. I'll get back to the garage."
Maarg nodded, a plan already forming in his mind. "Good. Get back to the garage, get everyone else ready to move. I'll go get Jack, Mark, and Tara." He started to turn, but Gabby's voice stopped him.
"Hold on," Gabby said, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes, a rare sight on the usually chaotic man. "You're going back into that section? Gunther might be back there by now. He was heading that way when I last saw him." Gabby coughed, a dry, hacking sound. "If you want to get everyone, you need to hurry. He won't be in a forgiving mood."
The warning was clear. Gunther's priority would be his "experiment" and his brother, but his rage would be a dangerous wild card. Maarg's jaw tightened. "Understood," he said, "Catch" Gabby threw the last unlit molotov cocktail towards Maarg, maarg looked at him with a strange look to which Gabby said "Burn that fat pig while you're at it" and with a final nod Maarg covered his face with the piece of cloth he found nearby and plunged back into the smoke-choked corridor, the heat immediately assaulting him, a suffocating blanket that stole his breath. The air was a thick, burning shroud, tasting of soot and destruction, each inhale a burning reminder of the inferno consuming the base. The familiar hallway, once a passage of dread, was now a terrifying tunnel, illuminated only by the flickering, malevolent glow of the distant flames that danced like hungry spirits. Debris crunched under his boots – fallen plaster, shattered glass, and unidentifiable charred remnants of what was once the base's interior. Jack and Tara were nowhere in sight, all he could see was the chaos, scorching wood and the lying bodies of Gunther's men, their fate hanging heavy in the oppressive, smoke-filled air.
Suddenly, a deafening crashing sound ripped through the incessant roar of the fire, not far ahead. It was a sound of impact, of immense force meeting resistance, far too loud to be merely falling debris. Maarg pressed himself against the rough, fire-heated wall, risking a quick peek around the jagged edge of the crumbling hallway. What he saw made his blood run cold, a tableau of violence that confirmed his worst nightmare.
Before him, framed by dancing shadows and swirling smoke, was a furious, brutal battle between two titans, Jack and Gunther. Each embodying a different kind of raw power, locked in a deadly, desperate embrace. Maarg had always known Jack was formidable, a force of nature in his own right, perhaps one of the strongest people he'd ever met, capable of incredible feats of strength and precision in a fight. Yet, even Jack, while wielding the fire axe with grim determination, his blue hair stark against the fiery backdrop, was visibly struggling against the sheer, overwhelming force of Gunther, the monstrous leader of the cannibals, his immense bulk moving with surprising agility, pressed Jack relentlessly, a whirlwind of fists, raw power and dirty tricks
Gabby's earlier warnings about Gunther echoed in Maarg's mind, a chilling whisper amidst the roaring inferno. Gabby had painted a terrifying portrait of the man: not just a brute, a simple thug to be outmaneuvered, but a beast of intellect and cunning. He wasn't a brainless tyrant content to merely command through fear; he was a mastermind, a crazy, charismatic man with a mind seemingly outside this world, operating on a plane of twisted logic all his own. Gabby had even expressed an uncertainty about whether Gunther partook in the cannibalistic practices of his followers or just enjoyed ripping people and their hopes. This detail that made him all the more unsettling, setting him apart from the base's other monstrous inhabitants.
Watching the ferocious, desperate dance between Jack and Gunther, Maarg understood Gabby's assessment perfectly. This was a fight against something far more dangerous than just brute muscle. It was a clash against a calculated, savage intelligence that thrived in chaos, that seemed to feed on destruction. Gunther was a true force of nature in this burning hell, he was using headbutts, clawing and even biting. The sight of Jack, bleeding and straining, pushing against such a formidable foe, filled Maarg with a desperate urgency. He knew he had to intervene, but how? The small, confined space of the corridor made it difficult to join the fray without risking hitting Jack, and Gunther's sheer size dominated the limited arena. Maarg tightened his grip on his own weapon.
***
Maarg pressed himself further into the smoky shadows, his eyes frantically scanning the chaotic, burning scene. He needed a distraction, even a fleeting one – a single, precious second that would allow Jack to land a devastating blow with his fire axe. Jack, despite his incredible strength and combat prowess, was visibly straining, pushed to his absolute limits by Gunther's relentless, almost inhuman power. A small window, a momentary lapse in Gunther's terrifying focus, that was all Jack needed to turn the tide of this brutal, desperate struggle.
As Maarg's mind raced, desperate for any weakness, any vulnerability in the unyielding figure of Gunther, a terrifying sound ripped through the incessant roar of the fire. It was a guttural, raw **roar**, a sound of pure, unbridled primal fury, emanating from the very room where Mark lay transforming. Both Jack and Gunther flinched, their heads instinctively snapping towards the horrifying sound, their bodies momentarily stiffening. But the primal intensity of their struggle immediately reasserted itself, neither man willing to cede an inch or allow the other an advantage from the sudden, bizarre interruption. Their fight was too visceral, too critical to allow any momentary lapse in focus.
Maarg frowned, a cold dread beginning to seep into his bones. He squinted through the swirling smoke that heavily enveloped the corridor, trying desperately to pierce the gloom behind the furious battle. The air was too thick, the visibility too poor to make anything out clearly. The light flickered, casting distorted shadows that danced mockingly around the unseen terror. Just as the memory of the grotesque roar faded, its chilling echo replaced by the growing roar of the fire, a new sound cut through the din – a horrifying scream.
It was unmistakably human. And undeniably, terrifyingly, female.
His blood ran colder than the Toronto winter night. Tara. The name hammered in his brain, each syllable a hammer blow of dread. Tara was in that room, just behind the battling titans, trapped with whatever monstrosity had just roared. His worst fears coalesced into a horrifying, sickening certainty, Tara is in danger. The fight between Jack and Gunther, once the sole focus of his desperate hope, was no longer the only critical point. Now, a new, far more terrifying threat had emerged, one that demanded immediate, desperate action, pulling him between two raging fires.
The scream echoed again, raw and desperate, tearing through the smoke and the roar of the flames, chilling Maarg to the core. He knew he had to act, but the choice was a torment. Does he try to break through Gunther and aid Jack in a fight that was already pushing his friend to the brink, or does he abandon the immediate conflict to rush into the unknown horror of the room where Tara and the transforming Mark lay? The decision was made for him as a heavy, cracking and splinters of wood came flying out of the room behind.