Whenever Drama ventured above her catacombs, she was proud of the pungent reek of rot that met her nose. The Marked, when accumulated as they were on the ground throughout the hallways and rooms, were arranged as though they had been returned from war. Drama could see them when the sun ducked below the western edge of the world, and then she prowled the halls and passageways beneath the cover of darkness. When the sun was ablaze above, she would cower beneath the school, and she would watch those who had not yet been marked, the remembrance of decay heavy around her. The Marked would move among the others, and that was when they were free to roam the world of the pure. But when the sun set...

Drama's muscles contorted, and her head swung around to watch the passageway that she had just departed. The darkness was complete. Soundless. Dank. And yet she felt that she was not alone. Someone else prowled these tunnels.

Teeth bared, the monster turned to creep toward the sound. The only objects to burn a hole through the blackness, her eyes glowed. 

The Hero yelped, lurched forward, and spun on her heels to see what had just tapped her on the back. To her annoyance—and embarrassment—Jess stood there. The other stood abashedly, tense, and refused to meet the Hero's eyes. "Are you really after the monster?" the Dependent asked, and the Hero could detect a waver when she spoke. Jess feared for herself, and perhaps—perhaps—even Stanley as well. She wanted to help.

"No," the Hero retorted and managed to collect the courage to start forward, toward the endless black throat. "Just after fame and glory and crap." She turned cheery. "So, what are you up to down here? Come here often?"

Jess hung back toward the entrance, loath to go onwards. Her shadow cast a deep gash across the floor of the tunnel. The Hero felt a shard of dread; to wander these halls alone was a death penalty, but to do so attended by another seemed at least somewhat safer. The Hero added, "Don't you want fame and glory and crap? To help Stanley? To go on an adventure? Come on..." She clenched her jaw. The Hero knew that she was nervous; she would never converse so much had she not been. Her rambles swept through the hallway.

There was a palpable pause on Jess' part, and shuffles as of feet came to meet the Hero's back. The Hero went onwards. After a long moment, Jess trotted to catch up. She muttered, "Yeah... Yeah." The Hero felt the wave of dread flush away from her. There was a moment when the only sounds were footsteps. Then: "You have a plan...?"

A half-chuckle of regret. "Nope."

The tunnels were long, and they reeked of terror; no matter how the Hero attempted to brush the smell away, the fear always crept back. There was no sound but Jess' and her own footsteps. Not even the vague echoes of drops of water so often heard when underground passages were part of the story could be found. A pale shaft of red cut through the darkness: the flash on the Dependent's phone turned on and set to draw red. But even that brought no comfort to the two wary explorers. The blackness breathed, pulsed around them, unseen lungs full only to contract and expel deathly cold breath through the hallway. But the adumbral walls moved not; they were as soundless as graves. And yet the Hero was unsure that even that analogy was dependable anymore.

When they came to a fork that broke the passage, the Hero randomly chose to head off to the left, and she left a mark on the floor to show what way they should go when they returned. "When." Of course "when." What other than "when?"

When the second fork came, they turned the other way, and the toe of the Hero's shoe cut through the dust on the floor once more. The scenery was monotonous, and she could not help but wonder how large the tunnels were exactly. Perhaps they stretched for thousands of feet. Perhaps the Dependent and the Hero would get trapped or lost. Perhaps the monster, Drama, would pounce upon them as a cat would and lacerate them from head to toe. The Hero made every attempt to keep these thoughts from her head, but that proved to be useless; apparently, when far beneath the surface of the earth, surrounded by roars of soundlessness, you could not just brush off what surrounded you. The Hero thought to herself—even her thoughts were as soft as they could be—Drama's probably after us by now, and we're now the hunted. That's just full of comfort. Why'd we ever come down here? However, these thoughts were subdued by the memory of Stanley on the ground, the blood the decor on the concrete around the torso.

After hundreds of wordless feet, Jess spoke. Softly. Always softly. "Are you sure the monster-"

Drama's roar sounded throughout the passageway, and both the Hero and the Dependent screamed, the pressure of the last half an hour broken. They spun around, eyes unfocused as they scanned the tunnel that they had just walked through. Needlessly.

The monster was all too apparent; even the halfhearted red glow of Jess' phone was enough to reflect shards of green onto the bone-dry stone walls. The monster's amber eyes shone, burned through the two students who had dared to trespass. Screeches came from the daggers attached to the creature's feet, and they made deep gashes through the floor. The teeth glowed red when the phone was focused on them. The monster wove through the darkness, and a low growl rumbled around the passageway.

Needless to say, both Hero and Dependent turned after a moment of frozen horror, and they ran.

Drama would not allow them to get far. The tunnel shook as the monster launched herself through the blackness above to crash down before the two terror-struck students. She spun around, and her eyes flashed dangerously as the two scrambled to get away, mouths agape. The Hero's heart thrummed uncontrollably, and her movements were taut and jerky from the flurry of battle. Ha. Battle, the Hero mocked even as she got to her feet and scampered back the way that the two had come. Only half of a battle, so far. So laudable.

(The usage of vocabulary words often eases the alarm of those hunted by monsters.)

Jess had already made a dash for the tunnel whence they came, and somehow she had managed to keep ahold of her phone. The red beam swung uncontrollably through the passageway that now echoed thunderously, flashes of coherent truth versus a world of darkness and danger. The Hero had almost dared to hope that they would get around the bend, but such was not to be; the ground shook once more as the beast that they had fled from reared and smashed her feet through the dust on the floor. A tremor strong enough to knock the Hero and the Dependent off-balance spread through the tunnels, and the roar that helped made the sound nearly loud enough to deafen.

The Hero staggered toward the wall, hands outstretched, and she caught herself. Jess had not managed to do so. She had been flung to the ground, and the phone had scuttled away from her. The Dependent now crawled around on the stone floor, and her hands felt for the phone. "My phone! MY PHONE!" The Hero's thoughts were jumbled enough that she could form no understandable curses to throw at the Dependent, and so she merely pushed herself to her feet and hobbled over to pull Jess to hers. The two nearly ended up sprawled on the ground once more because of the flood of black around them.

Drama's eyes darted back and forth from one student to the other. They could not see her now, she saw. But she could not touch that one, the Hero; the Hero was not close enough to those who she searched out. Any harm that the monster attempted to exact on her would be small, more of an annoyance than a wound. But the other one... the Dependent...

"NO!" came the shout from the Hero. Drama's growl was cut off, and her bunched muscles relaxed for a second; she had been about to pounce on the two. The monster watched as the Hero took a step—a step meant for a baby, truly—forward, and her eyes scanned for her adversary. "No," she repeated, and the Dependent stared on. "You won't come any closer. You'll not touch me or her. You'll heal Stanley, the one up there. And then you'll go away... forever."

There was a pause from both the humans and the monster. A muscle beneath the scales on Drama's shoulder spasmed. Go away forever? The beast had to envy the Hero's words; they were words of power, of courage. And yet they would do no good when thrown at a monster, would they. Would they? Even at these few meager statements, Drama felt her resolve start to weaken. How could that be? The Hero, even though she was unaffected by any attacks, could not really counterattack... and not verbally, of course. And yet...

Drama shot out the thought toward the two before her: No. She would not be put down by a mere human, and not by words. Words were weak. They could not hurt a monster such as she. A small sense of deterrence called to her: The enemy of drama? Reason.

"Yes," the Hero retorted. "Yes, and you'll do so now. Heal Stanley." Softer, almost too soft to be heard, she added, "Please..."

No, came the sharp response, though Drama could feel a new horror break through her unbreakable wall. What was that? Not... not fear, surely? Because of a few puny demands? That made no sense. Drama could not—would not—feel fear. Not because of the Hero. Not because of the Seconders. Not because of the Dependent. No one could make her fear them. No one.

"Then go away," the Hero told her. "Go away and never come back." Drama could detect the terror woven throughout the student's words, and yet she could not seem to take advantage of the weakness. The students' eyes rolled. The Dependent was pale. The Hero's chest heaved.

Drama cowered.

NO, she shouted, and her roar resounded throughout the tunnel. The two students jumped, but though the Dependent stepped back, the Hero stepped forward. Drama could feel the pressure taut between herself and the Hero, a concentrated release of terror and anger from the student, and mere rage and fear of the fear from the monster.

"YES," the Hero commanded, and her hand swept through the blackness before her, as though she could see. Drama could feel the eyes bore through her chest. She would not allow herself to retreat; she would not allow herself to cower. And yet... "Get out of here! Go away! Don't come back!" The Hero's eyes burned a hole through the darkness. An unbearable wave of terror washed over Drama.

The Hero could not help but jump once more when the monster, Drama, gave one last roar. However, that roar was not one of anger, but of—was that...?—fear. The Hero felt a momentary surge of conquest rush through her, but she had celebrated too early. A trapped beast was more dangerous than a free one. The tunnel shook, and suddenly there was not enough shadow to wash out the dark form of the monster as she rose up on her back feet, claws all too clear and jaws agape.

At the Hero's back, the Dependent screamed, and the former felt another rush of power course through her. She could not let the monster harm the Dependent. She could not let Drama hurt her; the Hero had to stop Drama so that the other was not harmed. Somehow, the Hero felt that she could not be hurt by the monster, but Jess could.

"GO," the Hero shouted, and she stepped forward as the monster descended upon her, "NOW!"

A snowy beam shattered the tunnel as the Hero felt Drama's scaly nose touch her palm. The beast gave a palpable tremble, as though an onslaught of energy had washed through her, and then suddenly and soundlessly the monster was gone. Just gone.

The Hero and the Dependent stood, on both students' faces alarm and doubt etched. The tunnel around them was soundless, and they were the only corporeal ghosts there, though several mental remembrances of growls and snarls and roars echoed around the passage. What just happened? Where has Drama gone? Can she return? The Hero's heart beat faster at her next thought: Has Stanley been healed?

"We have to go, Jess," she muttered to the Dependent, who stood dumbly, shocked. After a moment, the Hero prodded, "Jess, get your phone. We have to go." When she urged her once more, the Dependent nodded and crouched down to search through the dust. Once they had located her phone, the two sped back down the passageway, eager to get out of Hell and back to the sun.