JEFF PIERCE

Jeff knew he was doing something wrong when he noticed that the shy, small Moe girl was much more composed than himself. "Take this... F-For your wounds," she said, handing him a handkerchief. Jeff tried to wrap it around one of his closed fists, only to feel a sharp stinging feeling speed through his system as soon as the handkerchief touched the open wounds. He forced a really ugly smile, so as not to disappoint this gifted young lady who'd just offered to treat the wounds of this peasant.

Shortly after seeing that Jeff was 'satisfied' with her efforts, the girl went off to the other end of the car, probably to rejoin her fellow gifted individuals. "Man, if only I had some painkillers," he grunted under his breath. "I wonder if I still have some in my bag, by any chance." Jeff picked himself up from the floor, only realizing that he'd injured his shoulder badly while charging the door. 

Jeff gently slid his hand under the seat he had originally been sleeping on and managed to fish the whole thing out. "This should do it," he said, pulling on the bag's zipper. After about half a minute of digging through his pack, he discovered a transparent Ziploc bag filled to the brim with cylindrical containers filled with pills of all sizes and colors. Jeff pulled out a small sheet with eight tiny capsules meant for ingestion, and removed two of these. He hated taking pills this big without anything to down it with, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Just as he was about to pop both pills down his throat, he notices that the girl in the seat across from his--the happy one with the violet hair--had been wounded, presumably when the claw broke in and snatched up that small boy with the glasses. She was building a set of rudimentary bandages with what appeared to be an old T-shirt. "It's the least I should do." he answered.

As he approached the girl on the other side of the hallway, he started to tremble. "Dammit..." he thought. Jeff very rarely speaks to women, and those that he can talk to--read; his mother--didn't really give Jeff a good impression of the opposite gender."I should have prepared for this. I'm way too anxious." By the time he arrived at Dakota's seat, his breathing had become heavier, to the point where he had to hold his breath in order to open his mouth.

"Take this." Hey, the words were coming out pretty smoothly. "It'll ease your pain." His head was turned in the wrong direction and his eyes were tightly shut. Before Dakota had the chance to thank Jeff, a resounding crash called the attention of everyone in the car. Apparently, the overdressed boy had managed to force open the door with some sort of metal rod that had presumably been ripped off a chair. "I should have thought of that." Jeff sighs. As if he had already forgotten that he hadn't finished treating Dakota, he rushed excitedly to the newly discovered car...


“Don’t run. She will find you. Don’t fight. Or I will kill you.”

...The voice that resounded through both cars was deeper than what Jeff's own mouth could naturally produce, so naturally, everyone was on edge and pulling some sort of weapon to defend themselves with. Jeff, on the other hand, who was trailing just behind Eden, stopped in his tracks and pulled out a pair of bleeding knuckles. "It's no longer an issue of whether or not I'll be able to take it on," Jeff thought to himself. "We have to battle it eventually."

"The question is... How?"

Suddenly, as if to spite everyone inside, a large claw emerged from above, ripping through the ceiling like aluminum foil. Much to Jeff's shock, the claw jabbed into Eden's shoulder and pulled her up, knife and all, through the hole it had just created. By the time he could react, though, Eden was already dangling about a meter above the ceiling.

"No!" Jeff cried out in protest. "Couldn't you have taken me instead!?" Eden's screams of terror echoed throughout both cars, but without any way to climb up to the roof, all Jeff could do at this instant was to curse the malevolent entity that decided to rid this girl from his future on a whim, all the while digging his nails into the bloodstained handkerchief that Eden herself lent to him.