Chapter 27: Symphony of Death

The Butcher slid back, putting space between himself and Avery. His playful smirk morphed into a look of intense focus. Then, he reached out and plucked at... nothing?

No. Not nothing.

Avery's eyes widened as he finally saw them – gossamer-thin strings crisscrossing the entire room. Hundreds of them, practically invisible in the dim light.

A chill ran down his spine. He'd let his guard down, forgetting this was Night Gallery turf. Of course they'd have nasty surprises waiting. It seems he has underestimated them a lot.

"Ready to dance to the Symphony of Death?" The Butcher's voice dripped with menace.

His fingers danced across the strings like some twisted harpist. Suddenly, the air filled with a deadly rain – arrowheads glistening with violet poison.

"First movement, Enigma," Rex called out. "Let's see if you're still standing for the finale."

Avery's mind raced. The arrowheads' paths were a carefully orchestrated death trap. Dodge one, and another would be waiting to pierce his skull.

There was only one way out of this…

Avery's dagger became a blur, deflecting arrowheads left and right. His focus narrowed to a laser point – one slip and he'd be a pincushion full of poison. As the onslaught continued, his movements became more fluid, almost instinctive. 

Just a bit longer...

But the Butcher wasn't done. Just as the rain of death began to thin, Rex's fingers danced across two strings. A fresh wave of arrowheads filled the air, these ones reeking of an even nastier toxin. Avery's eyes widened as he saw the poison eating into his dagger. How much longer could the blade hold out?

"Tick tock, Enigma," Rex taunted. His hands flew across four strings now, unleashing a storm of metal and venom.

Avery's arms burned with effort as he deflected wave after impossible wave. He was good – terrifyingly good – but even monsters have limits.

Rex allowed himself a predatory grin. He'd made the right call not going toe-to-toe with this freak. Let the arrows wear him down. Once this deadly symphony was over, Enigma would be running on fumes. Easy pickings.

CRACK!

Avery's heart skipped a beat as his dagger's blade shattered. In one fluid motion, he whipped out his backup blade. Two daggers. That's all he'd dared to bring, not wanting to risk getting busted by the cops for carrying an arsenal. He'd thought it would be enough.

Boy, was he wrong.

The Butcher's fingers flew across the strings – six, seven, eight... all the way to seventeen. Sweat trickled down Avery's temples as he fended off the intensifying barrage. Each arrowhead felt heavier than the last, numbing his arms. Worse, the floor was becoming a minefield of fallen projectiles, leaving him less and less room to maneuver.

Fatigue crept in, slowing his reactions. He is now walking on eggshells, dangerous territory.

Avery's eyes darted frantically, searching for an opening. But the storm of arrows was relentless, a perfect killing rhythm.

Then it happened. Two arrowheads grazed his thigh.

Fire exploded through his leg. Acting on instinct, Avery's fingers found pressure points, striking hard to slow the poison's spread. Some of the poison was expelled but it wouldn't stop it completely. It might buy him some time.

Gritting his teeth, he tore off a strip of his shirt, fashioning a makeshift tourniquet.

The Butcher's laughter echoed through the room. "First blood, Enigma! How much longer can you dance?"

Avery's grip tightened on his dagger. He wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"You sure you're gonna make it, Enigma?" The Butcher's voice dripped with mock concern. "That poison could drop an elephant."

"I'm just peachy," Avery shot back, though his options were running dangerously low.

"If you say so." Rex's fingers danced across at least ten strings at once.

Avery's eyes flicked to his battered dagger. No way it'd last through this onslaught. He braced himself for impact, mind racing for a way out.

Then – PING! PING! PING!

The incoming arrowheads veered off course, knocked aside by... pebbles?

Avery's gaze snapped to the source of his unexpected salvation. There, unleashing a rapid-fire barrage of stones, stood Edward – the Siren Song himself.

"Seriously?" Edward's voice rang out, equal parts exasperation and amusement. "I thought we were partners in crime-fighting! What's the big idea, ditching me like that?"

Despite everything and knowing that this one is a loose cannon, Avery felt a grin tugging at his lips. Edward showed up at the last second, acting like this was all some big inconvenience.

With Edward here, maybe they stood a chance after all.

The Butcher's face darkened. This fight just got a whole lot more interesting.

The Butcher's eyes narrowed. "Siren Song? Well, well. So you two are in cahoots? Let me guess – you turned on Cleaner 8827 and killed him yourselves?"

"What?" Edward's jaw dropped. "Cleaner 8827 is dead? For real?"

Despite the dire situation, Avery had to suppress a groan. Trust Edward's one-track mind to miss the bigger picture.

"Cut the act," Rex snarled. "If you're not rebelling against the organization, what the hell are you doing here?"

Edward puffed out his chest. "I'm not lying! Lying's for losers. Ask him if you don't believe me." He jerked a thumb at Avery. "And FYI, I'm here to save the world. Decided to add killers to my hit list. Killing those bitches is starting to get boring. Those jerks aren't worth squat, and their blood stinks worse than week-old gym socks. Blech!"

While Edward's oddball explanation bought him a few precious seconds, Avery tried to pull himself together. His wounded leg was going numb – not a good sign. He needed to end this fast, or he'd be the one taking a dirt nap.

But first, he had to figure out how to turn this weird situation to their advantage.

The Butcher looked from Edward to Avery, clearly trying to make sense of this bizarre turn of events. One thing was certain – this fight was far from over.

"Edward, toss me that!" Avery's eyes locked onto a metallic glint at Edward's waist. A weapon – just what he needed.

"Oh, this?" Edward unsheathed a wicked-looking scimitar. "Sorry, this baby's mine. But here, catch!"

He lobbed something else Avery's way. It looked like a tonfa, but with blades – a daisho. Perfect for both offense and defense.

The Butcher's fingers flew across the threads, unleashing a hellish melody. His "Symphony of Death" lived up to its name, filling the air with deadly projectiles.

But Avery wasn't out of the game yet. The daisho whirled in his hands, its circular motions deflecting the onslaught with surprising efficiency.

Meanwhile, Edward... well, Edward was putting on a show.

Avery's jaw nearly dropped as he watched the Siren Song in action. The guy moved like he was made of rubber, twisting and bending in ways that shouldn't be humanly possible. And the craziest part? He was grinning like a maniac the whole time, treating this death match like his own personal playground.

Avery's earlier hunch was right – Edward was way more than just another Night Gallery Artist.

Luckily, the Butcher seemed fixated on Avery, giving Edward room to pull off his acrobatic stunts. But how long would their luck hold?

One thing was certain – this fight was about to kick into high gear.

As if his crazy moves weren't enough, Edward started snatching arrowheads out of the air and flinging them back.

"Nice aim, kid," the Butcher sneered when Edward's throws went wide, he missed him by a thread.

Edward just grinned. "Look again, big guy."

Threads snapped, raining down around them. "Never doubt my throwing skills. Big sis Mina taught me everything she knows!"

Avery's brain screeched to a halt. Mina? Convenience store Mina? What was she doing teaching this loose cannon?

No time to wonder. Avery and Edward pressed their advantage, inching closer to the Butcher. Edward even started humming, like this was all some fun game.

They lunged as one, closing the gap –

CLANG!

Their attacks met solid resistance. The Butcher had yanked another thread, and a massive axe dropped from above.

"Didn't want to break out the big guns. I don't want anyone to see me in this form," Rex growled, "but you leave me no choice."

He hefted the axe like it weighed nothing, veins bulging. With a roar, he shoved both Avery and Edward back.

Edward's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Whoa, cool!"

Avery, on the other hand, felt the room start to spin. The poison was winning. He needed that antidote, fast.

As the Butcher advanced, axe gleaming, Avery's vision began to blur. This was bad. Really, really bad.