The five Deadmen quietly trekked through the forest, Kyle leading the group. Aaron followed behind him, his shoulders slouched due to fear of seeing Bloodletter again. Harry stayed at the back to watch over Edgar and Jade.

"So why does he want to see me again?" Aaron asked.

"He told me he had a question or two for you," Kyle replied, staying focused on what's in front of him. "And that you had a few for him, too."

"Are you sure he's not just trying to kill me?"

"It depends. He rarely kills Deadmen unless they piss him off or try to harm other Deadmen."

"Didn't I piss him off yesterday when I ran off?"

"That pissed me off, too, Aaron!" Harry chimed in. "I wanted the four of us to hang out."

"We were planning on exploring the Dead Zone, man," Jade added. "But then you dipped."

"Well excuse me for not wanting to die," Aaron replied sarcastically.

Kyle parted a curtain of leaves hanging off a tree, revealing an empty field of dead grass. Bloodletter stood in front of him, facing toward the rest of the open world. Mutilated corpses littered the ground around him in a sea of blood and entrails. He held his mask down by his side, the red X facing them.

"Jade, Harry, keep watch on Edgar and make sure he doesn't see anything that's about to happen," Kyle whispered to the others.

Aaron gulped fearfully. "You sound like I'm about to be executed."

"It's not that. We don't like showing the children the carnage."

"Why the hell does that matter? He's gonna eat it anyway."

"Lemme explain it to you this way. Do you know what steak is?"

"Of course," Aaron replied, slowly raising his eyebrow. "Do you know what steak is?"

"Not exactly. Bloodletter told us about it one time. He says it comes from something called a cow, but just like with humans, it's more humane but very messy if you kill it before you eat it."

"That's enough, Carl," Bloodletter interrupted, not bothering to look back at them. "Thank you for bringing O'Connor to me. You can have some of the entrails as a reward."

"Thanks, sir," Kyle replied, picking up a dismembered hand from the ground. He hid it in the pocket of his hoodie. "And my name is Kyle, by the way."

Kyle turned back and patted Aaron on the shoulder for good luck. He disappeared behind the curtain of leaves with the others, leaving Aaron alone with the most dangerous creature in all of England.

"O'Connor," Bloodletter spoke, still facing away from him. "Tell me. Why do you think there are Abnormal Deadmen?"

Aaron gulped. "Because life isn't fair."

Bloodletter chuckled. "Clever. And believe it or not, you're partially correct. Life isn't fair. That's exactly what all of the Abnormals thought right before they turned. The only difference is that they remember that life isn't fair, even after they've returned."

"Why don't Commoners remember their past?"

"Because they don't care about it. Once they turn, all their brain wants them to do is reclaim their humanity. However, if it wasn't obvious from the constant bloodshed and consumption of flesh, they take their mission too seriously."

"Then why do you kill humans?"

Bloodletter slowly tilted his head to the side, his lifeless left eye aiming at Aaron. "Because I don't need to kill to eat. I kill to fulfill my purpose."

"What purpose?" Aaron backed away closer to the leaves.

"The only reason I'm in the grey area between alive and dead is because someone else I know should've died alongside me, maybe even instead of me. I need to find that someone and...let's just say complete their destiny."

He pressed his foot down on a dismembered arm, cracking it open with a disturbingly loud snap. "In fact, do you know what most Abnormals do when they've fulfilled their postmortem purpose?"

Aaron fearfully shook his head. Bloodletter replied, "They commit suicide."

Aaron's eyes widened. That explains so much. Before today, I've only encountered three Abnormals in my life, all of which were eventually declared terminated. But it doesn't help that one of them was actually still roaming around.

"Every life I've taken means nothing to me. I'm only getting rid of obstacles preventing me from reaching my target. And once I've finally reached him, I'll finally be able to sleep."

Him? Aaron asked himself. "Who's him?" he asked out loud.

"A cruel man by the name of Troy Schaefer."

Colonel Schaefer did this to him? Aaron asked himself again. "What did he do?"

"He took everything away from me," Bloodletter replied more aggressively. "In return I did the same to him. But unfortunately for the Commoners, he's not one to give up. And I know he takes it out on other people, so you should consider me a savior once I kill him."

"What could've hurt you so much that you resort to killing?" Aaron asked, slightly more confident.

Bloodletter paused. "Even though I'm dead, I still have my own philosophies. I believe that the three most tragic deaths in the world are the deaths of innocence, beauty, and unity. The death of innocence means the end of the halcyon days. The death of beauty means the destruction of the things we strived to protect. And the death of unity means the inevitability of disorder and chaos, ultimately rendering redemption impossible."

"What happens when all three of those deaths occur?"

Bloodletter turned around, completely facing Aaron. He stomped down on the dismembered arm again, spraying his leg with red mist. "The loss of your humanity. You either become numb to the destruction around you or you end up becoming part of it."

Aaron stood mesmerized. He tried softening the blow. "Interesting. Were you by chance a Philosophy or English major?"

"Afraid not, though it was a hobby of mine. However, Sarah wanted to be an author."

Aaron paused, slightly worried about what would happen next since Bloodletter brought back something from his past. "Who's Sa—"

"Yeah, she had a knack for writing. Very fond of horror stories. She even wrote a creepy little poem that's sadly starting to make sense now." An angry look formed across Bloodletter's face, and he dropped his helmet to the ground, sinking to the dirt. "Wanna hear it?"

"I'd rather n—"

"All of earth's people sadly die.
It's tragic and true but I don't lie.
But what if one day right at your door,
A corpse stood cold and hungry for gore?
Beware the brain-dead's bloodletting butchery."

Aaron stayed as calm as he could. "Well that's morbid," he said.

"I might be crazy, maybe sick in the head.
I swear this man standing before me was dead.
Trapped in a coffin buried in mud.
Then why is this creature's mouth dripping with blood?
Beware the brain-dead's bloodletting butchery."

That's when it clicked. Aaron suddenly remembered that the last line of the stanza—Beware the brain-dead's bloodletting butchery—was the same thing the White Scythe said before it slaughtered those DZI soldiers in Longridge. He then declared two things in his head. The first thing was that the White Scythe must've been an ally of Bloodletter. The second thing was that he was about to die.

Bloodletter started walking toward Aaron, aggressively continuing the poem.

"Please be kind and don't be a creep.
They've past away so let them sleep.
Leave it behind and run away.
The undead have won the battle today.
Beware the brain-dead's bloodletting butchery."

"Bloodletter?" Aaron asked cautiously.

He knew he was screwed. Bloodletter had started reciting the last line of the stanza. And only the last line.

"Beware the brain-dead's bloodletting butchery. Beware the brain-dead's bloodletting butchery." And that's when he started shouting it. "BEWARE THE BRAIN-DEAD'S BLOODLETTING BUTCHERY!"

Bloodletter charged toward Aaron and grabbed him by his right arm, lifting him off the ground with ease. Panic overflowed Aaron and all he could do was accept the undoubtedly violent death awaiting him.

Bloodletter sank his teeth into Aaron's shoulder. As usual, it didn't hurt Aaron, but he could still feel the cracking of his bones and the muscular matter tearing away from the rest of his body. It felt like a tooth being pulled and an anesthetic was preventing him from feeling the pain. A loud ripping noise indicated the removal of Aaron's arm, leaving behind a mutilated stub where it used to be.

Aaron crashed to the ground, too traumatized to care about his missing limb. Blood began pouring out of the new wound, a crimson puddle forming underneath him. He was too paralyzed to speak or even blink, but he worked up enough courage to look back at Bloodletter, immediately regretting it.

The first thing he saw was Bloodletter chewing on the mangled end of his arm, indicated by loud crunching. However, he released the arm from his grasp and started spitting out small bits of Aaron's flesh in disgust.

"Repulsive," he hissed, a spray of red saliva exiting his mouth. "You taste..." He wiped blood off his mouth. "Like a Deadman."

Harry poked his head through the curtain of leaves, loudly swore, and rushed over to Aaron. He looked down at the missing hole where the arm used to be in horror. In those few seconds a knob of bone slowly regenerated out of his shoulder in an attempt to heal him.

Kyle joined in, quickly brushing through the leaves. "What the bloody hell?! You told me you weren't gonna hurt him!"

"I said I wouldn't hurt him if he really is a Deadman," Bloodletter replied, still spitting out blood. "And I sadly found out the hard way that he is becoming one of us."

"Aaron?" Harry asked, tapping on Aaron's face. "Are you okay, mate?"

No response. Aaron's face was still frozen with fear. His eyes gazed straight up at the sky, seemingly trying to find something that wasn't there.

Bloodletter turned around to face Aaron before aggressively stomping on his dismembered arm, snapping it in half. He slowly strolled over to him, a trail of bloody footprints following behind him.

"Listen up, O'Connor," he said, standing above Aaron. "I doubt you're paying attention right now since you're giving me the thousand-yard stare, but I'll say it anyway. Since you've officially been deemed a Deadman turning, I can no longer harm you unless you intentionally provoke me. And since you clearly care too much about the people at your supposed safe haven, I'll leave you alone."

"What are you going to do now, sir?" Kyle asked.

"Simple," Bloodletter replied, pulling out a knife. "I'll ask his friends."

"But you said you'd only do it if I didn't bring him to you!"

"Once again," Bloodletter paused to slice his wrist with the knife, a stream of blood flowing out, "that was when I doubted he was a Deadman."