Green Bay wasn’t the old beautiful beach it used to be. Ships littered the shoreline and warehouse smog was in the air. It was ugly and grotesque compared to Florentine Beach, which most residents dubbed as a tourist trap.

Nero ran through a maze of shipping containers as Fenton chased after him, but he was easily grabbed as he wasn’t as coordinated as he thought he was. Struggling and grunting to get away, the two idiots started smacking each other in the face and prodding each other in the arms.

“Let go of me," yelled Nero. “I’m not into you!”

“Just shut up and get into my car," yelled Fenton.

Suddenly, eight men came running towards them, holding plasma guns. They turned the notches on the side, now on the highest setting, they were aiming to kill.

“Stop right there," one of them yelled.

“Let him go, you sick pervert," yelled another.

“Look this is all a misunder-”

“We’ve heard it all before," yelled another. “Excuses!”

Nero took the moment to push Fenton away and stumbled a few steps away.

“Don’t feel bad. You’re out of my league anyway."

“I’m going home! I’ve had enough,” Fenton screamed.

“This is deep enough," Nero slurred. “Let's, let’s start it right here."

“Start what?”

Fire burst from Nero’s hands, spreading over the containers as far as he could see. Fenton coughed from the smoke and backed up, tripping over the gravel and onto the ground.

“Stop! What is wrong with you,” yelled Fenton.

“You ungrateful whore” yelled one of the men. “We should have let him have you."

“It's okay, you can all take turns dying when I’m done,” Nero giggled.

“I’m going to take you down,” Fenton slurred. “You’re not my friend!”

“ Duh," replied Nero. “You’re the one who followed a stranger to the middle of nowhere. This is all on you.”

Fenton’s eyes flickered purple, but nothing happened, his blood too weak from the alcohol, and the only object he could move were pebbles from the gravel path.

The men fired their guns, and Fenton ran to the side, behind one of the shipping containers. He reached for his gun in his pocket, but it was in his car, and he decided to run instead.

He bolted, but the ground started to shake, and he was confused, if it was an earthquake or his mind playing tricks, the neurons misfiring. He fell to the ground and got back up, the shakes increasing, and looked back to see the men fall down.

Nero pointed his hand towards one of the assailants and he screamed in agony as he rolled on the ground trying to put out the fire. Nero grinned, blinked, his eyes flashing black because there was no more Nero, he was gone .

Call later, leave a message at the tone.

B    e   e      p.

“I want meat,” Nero and Unas said. “Less rum, more meat.”

The Aecors shot at him, he couldn’t dodge all of them at once, and one of them struck him in the shoulder. Nero went down, hard and fast, crying when he hit the ground. The bullet incinerated his skin, tearing through muscle and bone, sizzling once it exited.

A cauterized wound was left where he was shot, an open hole, crispy on the inside.

Lying in the cold gravel in pain, underestimating his enemies and his coordination, he grunted repeatedly when he strained to turn his head and look at his attacker. One of the men walked over to shoot him point-blank, and he struggled to his feet, holding up the sword.

His opponent grinned and grunted as Nero’s entire body suddenly jerked forward, the sword piercing his chest. Fenton had returned because the other enemy he had encountered while running was not one he could defeat on his own.

With as much strength as he could muster, he forced Nero’s body upwards with his telekinesis hoping it would turn the tide of war, but regretted it once he heard it speak.

Blood spilled out heavy and slow from his chest, and it covered Nero’s legs. The four remaining enemies shot at him, but he laughed, every bullet passing through healing as he ingested more blood, having it slide up from the hilt, seeping into his skin, making him moan in delight, his entire body flashing red like an ambulance.

The men watched in terror as Nero groaned in pleasure while digging the sword deeper into the man’s chest until it burst through his back. Fenton took a few steps, threw up, and looked away, the sight of a stranger with his friend’s face, moaning and getting aroused off of murder .

He tried to keep running, the ground was shaking even faster, and had no choice but to run past Nero and the few remaining enemies.

Finally, Nero pulled the sword out of the man. He pulled it out, upwards, slicing his chest, neck, and head in half. Nero breathed heavily as the body staggered, spurting blood all over his face.

He was unfazed as it drenched his face and shirt until finally, it fell to the ground.

“Tasty.”

Time to go, said Unas. Danger is near.

“You always want to leave before we win," groaned Nero. He spat the bits of blood that got into his mouth onto the ground. “You call me weak, but you always want to run away."

Live to fight another day, replied Unas.

“Run, don’t talk to him, run, ” Fenton shouted.

The ground began to shake so much that everyone could barely keep their footing. Nero used the sword to steady himself and then started to laugh when he didn’t want to, his body no longer his, Unas piloting his mind.

He felt his hair being pulled back, jerking his head all the way up, and for a few seconds, he was gone.

“You’re always so stubborn. It’s going to get you killed,” he cackled.

Nero shuddered, his body again his, and looked up to see The Giant.

The Giant was a large and metallic beast, with a round hard encasing that protected the pilot. It had large artillery projectors on its back, and what appeared to be a harpoon on its left arm.

Its right was a giant sword, gleaming in the light of the fire. With every step it took closer towards its target, the ground quaked beneath it. It stopped after a few steps, and a speaker slowly arose from its front chest.

STOP NOW, OR ELSE SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES.

“You don’t own me," yelled Nero. “I listen to no man!”

WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?

“Myself," proclaimed Nero, smugly. “I’m a self-made man."

I DOUBT THAT. YOU ARE DRESSED LIKE A BEACH LOVER.

Nero was offended. He thought his floral print shirt matched wonderfully with his very tight pants. Nero stared down at his shirt and frowned.

“I got person all over my shirt,” he mumbled.

“We need to go now," demanded Fenton. “We had a chance to live earlier, but now I doubt it."

“You need to trust me," said Nero.

“Trust you? I just met you! You need to return that sword!”

“This is my sword," yelled Nero. “Someone like you would be unable to control it!”

GIVE IT TO ME. GIVE ME YOUR SWORD.

Nero chuckled. “It seems like everyone wants my sword tonight ."

“We are about to die, and you’re talking about your dick?”

“Don’t worry," announced Nero. “I’m getting divorced so everyone can have my sword.”

This was not how Fenton saw himself dying.

Without warning, the large harpoon shot out from The Giant and landed on the ground near Nero and Fenton.

“HAH," yelled Nero. “You missed!"

A large net ejected from the top of the harpoon, covering Nero and Fenton.

“This is nothing," yelled Nero. “I can handle any-”

The net released a large electrical voltage, sending electricity throughout their bodies. Nero and Fenton fell to the ground.

The Giant had never lost a match, and tonight was no different.

Nero was knocked out, he was gone, someone left a message at the beep.

The voicemail played in his dreams.

B  e  e  p .