Death The 13th - Amelie

"Lady Amélie...!!" Marcel called out, straining against the door as the dead pounded on it relentlessly, dozens of them slamming their decaying bodies against the fragile barrier.

"Marcel!! Leave the door and come with me!! Please!!" a young girl cried out from several meters inside the apartment, her voice trembling with desperation as she begged her butler to escape with her.

'CURSES...!' Marcel thought, gasping for breath as he struggled to keep the door shut. 'Someone screamed, which riled up these hellspawns and led them straight to us in this apartment...!'

His grip tightened on the door, his muscles straining as the dead continued their assault. 'And what terrible luck... If only we had the key to lock the door, I could've joined the young miss...!' he thought bitterly.

"Lady Amélie... You must go now!" Marcel, an elderly man with a neat white mustache and neatly combed white hair, dressed in his formal tuxedo, instructed her as he fought against the horde. His voice was strained, but resolute. "Leave through the window, and make your way to the apartment to the left. I will hold them off to buy you time! You must go now, before my strength gives out!!"

"No!! I can't leave without you, Marcel!! Come with me, please!!" Amélie sobbed, her hands clasped together as she knelt in desperation, tears streaming down her face.

"LADY Amélie!!" The butler's voice boomed, cutting through her cries and forcing her to snap her gaze toward him, her whole attention locked on his stern face.

"You are the successor of the Montmorency family!" he shouted, his voice carrying both authority and urgency. "In a few years, you will take your father's place and rule over the entire company! Your fate isn't to fall here, and certainly not because of someone as lowly as me!"

Marcel's words hung heavy in the air as Amélie's sobbing quieted. The weight of her future crashed down on her, her body trembling in response.

"I've always felt that such a fate was too cruel," Marcel continued, his tone softening, though his grip on the door never wavered. "That everyone's expectations of you were unjust and unfair. You're still a young girl, and you should be enjoying your youth while you still have it. That's why, when I was tasked with being your guardian, I did everything I could to give you a childhood worth remembering... something to be fond of!"

"Mar...cel..." she muttered, her voice barely audible as her tears mixed with snot, her sobs turning into pitiful hiccups.

"But our world is a cruel one, and this is your cue to grow up prematurely... to become the fairest young lady I always knew you could be!" Marcel gritted his teeth as he leaned harder against the door, every muscle in his body straining as zombie hands began to squirm through the narrow opening.

Amélie, paralyzed by fear, stood up and involuntarily stepped back toward the high window.

"But... I... I can't live without you!! I wouldn't know what to do!! I'm... powerless without you next to me!" she cried, her voice breaking as her tears flowed freely.

"You are stronger...!" Marcel roared, his strength waning as he held the door with every last ounce of willpower. "Stronger than you realize, my lady! You are so strong, that you've mended this broken heart of mine... a heart ragged and torn from war and bitterness... You showed me what happiness and bliss truly are!!" His voice trembled, his life flashing before his eyes.

Years earlier...

"Marcel. This is my daughter. Train her and groom her to be a proper lady. Protect her. She will someday take my place," the lord commanded from his throne, signaling his 6-year-old daughter to step forward. Marcel, a war-worn veteran, stood uneasily in front of him.

"My Lord," Marcel began, "I am hardly a man who knows how to handle children. I know war, and only war. Please, I beseech you—let me strike at our competitors, and I shall—"

"Marcel," the lord interrupted, crossing his legs as he reclined in his cushioned chair. "Do you question my authority?"

"You know I do not, My Lord. The one I question is myself," Marcel replied with a respectful bow.

"That is the same, Marcel," the lord said calmly. "I chose you. When you question yourself, you question my judgment." He rose from his seat and descended the steps to stand face to face with the butler.

"My... apologies," Marcel murmured, his gaze lowered. It was then that the lord placed a firm hand on Marcel's shoulder.

"I will be busy from now on. I won't be home much, and as you know, her mother has recently passed," the lord said, his voice firm, but with a tinge of sorrow as he met Marcel's eyes. "I need someone responsible and strong to look after her. You are the best I have, Marcel. I know you can do it. Please."

Marcel looked into the lord's gaze, seeing the quiet, somber determination in his eyes.

"Very well, My Lord," Marcel said, his voice resolute. "Leave this little one's growth to me."

The lord stepped aside, giving Marcel room to approach the young Amélie. He knelt down before her, his weathered eyes softening as he looked at the emotionless child.

"Hello, young miss. My name is Marcel. What is your name?"

"Amélie," she muttered flatly, her eyes dull and devoid of feeling.

'When I looked into your eyes for the first time, I didn't see a hopeless young girl too soft for this world...'

'I saw myself. I saw someone who had seen too much loss and death for one lifetime.'

'And I knew that while I couldn't be fixed... perhaps I could still save this one from becoming as hopeless as I.'

"Hello, Lady Amélie," Marcel had said, smiling warmly. "I am Marcel. Let us get along," he added, gently raising her small palm and enveloping it with both of his gloved hands.

'My only regret...'

'Is that I wasn't able to protect that smile of yours... that innocence you had, for just a few more years... just a little longer...' Marcel thought, his eyes fluttering closed, Amélie's bright smile flashing through his mind.

"Marcel!" The memory of her voice echoed, young and full of joy, as she had run to him, her butler, in the castle garden. They were surrounded by blooming flowers, intricate bush statues, and the soft melody of a flowing fountain. She had embraced him, and in that moment, the world had felt whole.

'I've never had children of my own... and this is blasphemous to say, a complete disrespect to the Lord, but... After all these years with you, Lady Amélie... this is how I feel.'

"You are my daughter," he whispered in his mind, "and I love you with all of my heart... So go. Live on! And show the world what you're made of...!!"

"Marcel hick... I'll sob... I'll do it...!! I'll live on...!!!" Amélie cried helplessly, stumbling backward toward the window. Her tear-filled eyes were locked on Marcel, watching him as he strained to hold the door, his strength faltering with every second.

'That... is fine... very fine...' Marcel thought as Amélie opened the window and began crawling out. Her gaze never left him, even as his body wavered, on the verge of collapse.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a thunderous crash, and three undead creatures surged through, spilling into the room. Marcel's strength gave out, and he stumbled back, the door flying off its hinges and crashing down on top of him. He lay flat on his back, his arm dislocated, pinned beneath the heavy door as the apartment floor met his gaze.

"MARCEL!!!" Amélie screamed, her voice full of anguish as she watched the undead advance. One of the zombies reached behind the unhinged door, its decaying hand clawing toward Marcel, who lay helplessly beneath the weight.

'Goodbye... Lady Amélie,' Marcel thought as he braced for the inevitable.

[BACKGROUND MUSIC: "WHO DO YOU VOODOO" – SAM B]

"LIKE HELL YOU ARE!!" A scream erupted from behind them as a metal pipe smashed into the skull of the zombie closest to Marcel, caving in its head.

'Fuck...! I heard a girl screaming, so I came to this apartment on the 9th floor... It doesn't seem like she's here!' Jiho thought, thinking of Misaki. Meanwhile, Amélie's eyes widened, a glimmer of hope shining through her fear as she gasped, watching the zombie Jiho struck reel away from Marcel. She took in the sight of the blood-covered young man, gritting his teeth as he urgently smacked the undead away from the old butler.

'A savior...!' she thought, clinging to that fragile hope.

If only Jiho felt as hopeful as she did...

'But what's wrong with me!? Why am I not as strong as I was earlier!?' Jiho wondered in frustration as the second zombie lunged at him. The first, its brain spilling through its eye socket, turned toward him with a gurgling growl.

Hearing the sudden outcry, Marcel peeked from beneath the door. He saw a young man wielding a metal pipe, struggling with the undead as the zombie's decaying brain matter dripped down its mangled face.

"Get the hell off me!!" Jiho snarled, wrenching the zombie's arm off his own with surprising strength. With a fierce swing, he slammed the pipe into the side of its head. The zombie toppled into the wall, its skull crashing against the plaster, blood splattering on impact.

'That young man...' Marcel's eyes widened. 'He yanked that hellspawn's grip off like it was a child's... He's strong! Abnormally so, considering the strength of these creatures!' He quickly crawled out from under the door, clutching his dislocated arm.

Suddenly, the third zombie lunged at Jiho.

'FUCK... I didn't notice! 'Jiho panicked, dropping the pipe as the zombie tackled him, forcing him into a desperate struggle.

[YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU STOPPED IGNORING ME—]

"SHIT... EVEN SO, YOU AIN'T GONNA KILL ME!!!" Jiho roared, grabbing the zombie by the neck and slamming it against the kitchen wall, ignoring the flashing message prompt. He smashed its head repeatedly into the wall, blood smearing with each impact.

But as Jiho fought the third zombie, the first—its brain leaking through the shattered skull—slowly rose again. With a guttural snarl, it stumbled toward Jiho's nape, completely unnoticed.

"NON, LADY AMÉLIE!!" Marcel shouted in French.

"Prends ça!" [TAKE THAT!] Amélie cried, summoning every ounce of her courage. She grabbed the fallen metal pipe and swung with all her might at the zombie's head.

The blow... bounced off.

'It's like hitting metal...!' she thought in horror, as the zombie turned its bloodied, hungry gaze toward her.

"LADY AMÉLIE, COUREZ!!!" Marcel screamed, struggling to his feet as the zombie placed its hand on her shoulder.

"N-Non...!" [No...!] Amélie stuttered as the zombie leaned in, preparing to bite her neck...

But little did it know...

Jiho had turned to face the threat after completely smashing the other zombie's head into pulp.

'I'd rather not use a move from that backstabber's book... but I've got no choice...!' Jiho thought, recalling one of Daniel's fighting techniques. In a swift motion, he yanked the zombie's head into an armlock.

"Ah...!" Amélie gasped as the zombie shifted its focus to Jiho—releasing its grip on her—only to find itself at a severe disadvantage.

"RAAEERRGHH!!!" the zombie growled, gnashing its teeth, trying to chomp at Jiho.

"You fucker... Come to die!!" Jiho snarled as he dragged the zombie toward the kitchen, still holding it in an arm lock. His eyes darted around the room, quickly landing on a wooden knife stand.

'To think... He's strong enough to overpower a hellspawn's strength and endurance...! Remarkable!' Marcel thought in awe as Jiho reached for a knife, knocking the stand to the ground.

"Go... to sleep... FUCKER!!!" Jiho roared, driving the knife deep into the zombie's head.

The creature immediately lost all strength, crumpling to the ground.

Jiho gasped for breath, his chest heaving, before stomping past Amélie to the zombie whose head he had already smashed with the pipe. Without hesitation, he finished it off by plunging the knife into its skull.

He straightened up, wiping the sweat and blood from his brow as he glanced at both of them.

"Uh... Hi." Jiho asked awkwardly as he breathed.