The cries of the raid had filled them with fear. They'd meant to hurry to the epicenter of it all, getting glimpses of that great nine foot creature between houses. The next moment... it was a blur. Their mask had been torn away. Something resembling a plague beast had bitten them, rabid and furious in his undoing. His jaws had locked into them, their hot blood spilling over his trembling, foamy maw.

He had eventually let go, but they'd known. They could have fainted, gone slack and let him do as he pleased, but the dying, rickety beast and collapsed not long after, his face frozen. His body choking itself to death, as nerves misfired and muscles seized in all the worst ways.

And so they ran, panic in their lungs. They were not safe, not with his saliva having entered their wound. Not with whoever remained here who mattered to them. They would never truly be rid of this, not until it killed them. And their body would end up just as rotten as his, lost and confused, biting everything in reach. Spreading this vile disease.

Their mind drifts to Vigenere. They had not seen his bravery today, but they wished him an honorable victory. They know, they trust, that Tanglewood would survive this. They think of Ivan, how he'd disappeared, unable to be found. How they'd searched for him, how they'd cried. They think of Caustic, and Octane, hoping they were happy. That they had been able to forget this cruel dream.

And Bloodhound looked back on Tanglewood as the raid drew on, and hoped that the group too, would forget about them. They slowly walked into the woods, and were never seen again.