An Unnamed Unofficial Sequel To Angels Of Death. (for my enjoyment - but enjoy.)

Chapter One - "Echoes of a Manic Laugh"

Zack's eyes flickered open, his piercing gaze taking in his bleak surroundings. Blinking once, then twice, he scoffed at the familiarity of his predicament. Jail. The confining walls of his cell felt suffocating, but he couldn't help himself from absentmindedly unwrapping and rewrapping the blood-soaked bandages on his hands.

"Fuck," Zack bellowed, launching himself to his feet.

His outburst caught the attention of a nearby guard stationed just outside his cell. The guard approached, wearing a mix of weariness and annoyance on his face.

"What now? You know damn well I'm not supposed to be talking to you," the guard grumbled.

"I want out," Zack growled, his voice dripping with defiance.

The guard sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes. "You know that's never gonna happen, prisoner 194."

"Come on, don't give me that shit," Zack retorted, his frustration seeping into every word. "You think I'm just gonna rot away in this hellhole?"

The guard's gaze hardened, a flicker of sympathy hidden beneath the stern facade. "As much as I'd love to see you rot, it's not up to me. No one's gonna grant your freedom, Isaac."

Zack's grip tightened on the cell bars, his knuckles turning white under his dried up bandages. "Can't you at least try? Or are you too much of a coward?"

The guard's jaw clenched, but he held his ground, maintaining a safe distance. "Don't push your luck, Foster. I've already risked too much for you. I've spilled enough details about that Rachel girl, but I can't do more. There's a limit to what I can help with, and you're testing it."

A flicker of grudging respect flashed in Zack's eyes, masked by his unyielding determination. "You've got a funny way of showing your loyalty, huh? Helping me, then abandoning me."

The guard's gaze faltered for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. "Look, I've paid my dues for sticking my neck out for you. I can't do much else without risking everything. You're on your own, Isaac. Survive or perish. That's your only choice now."

As the conversation reached an impasse, an unspoken understanding lingered between them—a complicated relationship built on reluctant trust and shared secrets. Neither of them could predict the twisted path fate would carve for them within the walls of this wretched jail.

Zack sighed, his exasperation echoing through the empty confines of his cell. He watched with a mixture of disdain and amusement as the guard walked away, a distinct air of cowardice trailing behind him.

"What a coward," he muttered to himself, a bloodlust-tinged smirk playing on his lips. Zack allowed his mind to wander, but no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of Rachel consumed his every mental crevice. Was she still alive? Did she truly want him to fulfill their twisted promise? Could he trust the guard's words, or were they mere fabrications?

"Fuck me, why do I let these idiotic questions about a goddamn teenage doll invade my mind?" he pondered aloud, a perplexed frustration evident in his voice. "Why the hell do I care so damn much about this brat?"

His restless fingers continued their ritual, ceaselessly unwrapping and rewrapping the blood-soaked bandages adorning his hands. He knew his chance for escape would come when the guards changed shifts, a mere three seconds of opportunity. Luck had been on his side; they hadn't searched him thoroughly upon arrival, or they would have discovered the sharp shard of his broken scythe he had cunningly hidden. Five... Four... Three... Two... And, ah, the guard was gone.

Zack's chuckle reverberated in the empty cell as he swiftly moved the bed, revealing the carefully dug hole in the wall. Without hesitation, he squeezed himself through the tight opening, emerging into freedom. He made a snap decision. He had to start running. The guards couldn't hope to match his inhuman speed. Was he even truly human himself? No one knew for sure. But one thing Zack was certain of—he needed to find Rachel, and he needed to find her fast.

Zack's speed escalated, his feet pounding against the ground with increasing intensity, as if propelled by an otherworldly force. He couldn't help but let out his signature manic laugh, a blend of wild amusement and twisted delight. The bloodlust in his eyes flickered like a deranged flame, yearning for the chance to unleash havoc upon those hapless guards. With a deranged smile etched on his face, he fought against the urge, suppressing the desire to slice them open with his once-beloved Scythe, now lost to him. But damn, it was getting harder and harder to hold back, yet he pressed on, refusing to succumb to the temptation.

Suddenly, he came to a halt, disoriented in the unfamiliar surroundings that sprawled before him. Lost? Yeah, that seemed about right.

"Damn, what the fuck is that stench? Smells like someone took a shit and turned it into a bloody sculpture," Zack whined, pinching his nose shut to escape the repugnant stench.

Without skipping a beat, he continued his mad dash, searching for a place he once called home. It wasn't the place he was looking for, but hey, at least it was gone. Memories flooded his twisted mind, memories of him and Rachel managing to kill as many people as they did. The thought made Zack's lips twitch, a mad grin spreading across his face.

"Dude, you have no idea. I'd give my left nut to kill like that again," he mumbled to himself, the excitement palpable in his voice.

Sure, he could kill anytime he wanted to, but he needed Rachel by his side. She was the twisted brains that made it all work. Speaking of Rachel... she was holed up in some damn hospital, right?

Zack scratched his head, momentarily lost in thought before shaking it off, his mind made up. He sprinted again, desperately searching for a building that would bear the unmistakable mark of a giant red cross. And after what felt like a fucking eternity, there it was, right in his goddamn face. The building with the giant red cross. Though reading wasn't his strong suit, Zack assumed it spelled out "hospital."

A mischievous grin crept across his face as he pondered his next move. Sneaking into that hospital without being seen? Well, now that's a puzzle worth solving.