Sorry for disappearing for two weeks! Life got busy.

So, oh my god, welcome to the last chapter for this generation. Oh my god. If you can’t remember what happened last time, go read it. Rylo’s pretty damn emotional right now.

Once arrived at the Madhouse, Rylo lifts the garage door and sneaks underneath, just as he has been doing since he was a small child.

He steps soundlessly through the back room. The air is thick with human stench and mold. Rylo shivers at the unsettling atmosphere produced by all the souls he knows were lost in this ruined place. He sets his unease aside and walks resolutely into the stinking central room.

Leech: Well fuck me, it’s this little twat again.

Nixon: Come here boy, we’ve got a bone to pick with you.

Rylo spins around to retreat.

The huge man stands before Rylo, having crept so quietly for a man of his size. Rylo knows this man. He knows that this man is responsible for the assortment of stray body parts that sometimes found their way into the dumpsters out back.

Rylo’s chances of escaping out the back are slim to none. He backs up against the wall, and is pursued by the first three men.

Leech: Now slow down pony, we don’t mean to spook you. We’re just not too happy about all our shit that’s gone missing over the years.

Nixon: Honestly, we probably do mean to spook you.

Leech: Yeah, I lied, we do. Listen, get the fuck over here, so we can get what we’re owed.

They advance towards him. Rylo bolts, making for the nearest door. His shoulder slams up against it, and he tries the handle. The door bursts open, and he throws himself in.

Frantically he locks the door shut and holds his weight against it to keep the men from entering. They don’t seem interested in coming after him though, and he can hear their uproarious laughter through the door.

He remembers this room. This was his father’s office, where his parents used to get high and leave him to starve for as long as they felt like. Rylo feels no sentiment for this room, or what it used to be. He does not feel sad, he simply wants to conclude his business here and escape as unscathed as possible.

Beside the desk sits a pair of boots in much better condition than Rylo’s own. He knows that they must belong to his father, and they fit him perfectly. Looking at his torn, stretched rags, he quickly changes into the clothes hanging on a hook. He smirks as he stuffs his bundle of old shoes and clothes into one of his father’s useless fancy vases.

Feeling much more comfortable, he proceeds to the room he knows to be the bedroom.

And you’re goddamn right he did just age up. What’s up, Brooding trait.

This room also seems largely unused. The only objects that don’t have a thick layer of dust are a grimy mug and bottle of vodka on the bedside table. Rylo isn’t surprised.

The mirror gives him a shock. It’s been some time since he’s seen his own reflection so clearly. He’s astonished at the face in front of him, and had half been expecting a child’s face to look back at him. But he supposes it makes sense for him to have a man’s face, since he hasn’t felt like a child for a long time.

The only remnants of childhood that he can see are the tear streaks that he didn’t realize were visible on his cheeks, and his tangled dirty hair. In a frenzy he searches the drawers, strewing his mother’s old belongings about the room. Items he does not need are thrown behind him, while scissors, razors, and other useful things are placed on the surface in front of him.

Now looking in the mirror, he doesn’t see a dirty crying child. He sees something much more serious and menacing.

And badass. I made Rylo so badass, guys. LOOK AT HIM, I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BADASS SHIT FOR SO LONG.

A cool calm comes over Rylo. He knows that this entire building is made of cement. There will be no magical escape from here, and the only way out is the way he came. Rylo leaves the bedroom and finally steps out of his father’s office to receive whatever fate is waiting for him.

Leech, Nixon, and quiet Mack are waiting for him. Rylo calmly returns their stare, and waits for them to make a move.

Leech: Well shit kid, you didn’t have to come out of there dressed up like such an asshole. And in Rush’s clothes too.

Nixon: Well since Rush is dead, we don’t give a fuck about that.

Leech: We’ve already claimed anything good anyways, we don’t give a shit if you want his ratty rags. But we’re not so happy about the fucking years worth of supplies you’ve taken from us. I’m talking food, guns, rope, clothes, all kinds of shit.

Rylo glowers back at them in silence.

Nixon: Well?! What the fuck have you got to say for your sorry fucking self?

He shoves Rylo up against the wall, pressing the blade of his arm sharply into Rylo’s throat.

Rylo wheezes.

Rylo: I don’t… have… your shit.

Nixon: Bullshit!

Rylo spits into Nixon’s face, and Nixon releases him.

He staggers away from the wall, and Nixon is after him again. The first punch connects, and he hears his skull sing.

And then one of them is on top of him, and it’s all he can do to hold off the cascade of punches.

Rylo’s thrashing nearly throws Leech off him, but once the other two join in Rylo has no choice but to give into the beating.

He regains consciousness with his face pressed to a filthy rug. He doesn’t know where he is, it doesn’t matter. The voices laughing and joking above him are so far away, and everything’s so dark.

He’s not sure how many times he tries to get up off the ground. Each time he tries, one of the men aims a half-hearted kick at him, and he drops again.

Movement rouses him from his daze. He’s moving along the floor, being dragged. He struggles to open his eyes swollen into narrow slits. What he can make out of the dim room around him reminds him of where he is and what has happened.

His vision is dim and blurry, but it is undeniable to him that the wasted figure lying just to his left is her.

His head lolls to the side as he is dragged through the room, his gaze fastened firmly on her.

Whether she is dead or alive he has no way to know, and doesn’t care to know. It seems strange to him that his entire being had somehow come from this wretched translucent creature.

Rylo hears the opening of the door, and feels the rush of cool morning air. With one massive arm Mack lifts Rylo up onto his feet and steadies him.

Rylo walks two shaky steps before a sharp shove knocks him forwards, pitching him onto the concrete. Rylo feels his hands being scraped, and small rocks embed themselves into his palms.

He hears laughter behind him, and drags himself laboriously forward, away from the Madhouse.

Rylo hacks, and spits blood out onto the white sidewalk.

Leech: You’re still here kid, do you want more or something?

The men laugh as Rylo stumbles to his feet, and breaks into a blind run.

The morning sun rises, and Rylo staggers down the streets of Moonlight Falls.

Oscar: Hold steady, now. They’re not going anywhere. It’s better to take a long time to shoot than to waste a bullet.

Lance: The corpse with the mullet’s mine.

Oscar: You can shoot fine, Lance. Let Keane have the practice.

Keane: Thanks, sir.

Oscar: Inhale first, hold it, and shoot.

Bang!

Keane: Woah.

Oscar: Beauty! How about that next one?

Bang!

Oscar: Wow! I’d say the kid’s learning!

Lance: Alright, this one’s mine. Check this out, kid.

Oscar: Hold fire. That one doesn’t look right.

Lance: Sir?

Oscar: Drop your weapons, this one’s alive!

Rylo turns back to see where all the yelling is coming from. Through his slitted eyes he can just make out the shape of three men holding guns. With newfound energy he pushes himself away from the advancing men.

Oscar: Shit, this kid’s injured. Catch up to him!

The three men abandon their post, racing after the bloodied figure up ahead.

Desperately Rylo hops fences, dives into bushes, weaves around trees. His pursuers lose him many times, and each time they find him again they are further and further behind.

They falter at the top of a hill, panting and wheezing. All three look around, and see no sign of the strange person that had ran right into their line of fire.

Oscar: Damn it.

Keane: Sir, I know it’s not my place to say so, but we’re pretty vulnerable out here.

Oscar: No, you’re right. We’ve lost him.

Lance: Maybe he’s got people, he could be fine.

Oscar sighs.

Oscar: I sure hope he does.

Rylo wants to collapse. His muscles and bones are shrieking at him. His run slows to a jog, and then to a walk. He feels his face. The swollen bruises and open cuts render it completely unfamiliar to him, and dejected, he drops his hands.

Rylo’s body aches, but he’s invigorated by the knowledge that every step forward is a step away from Moonlight Falls.

He will follow this road until he either finds something nicer than this miserable town, or dies.

This was the only image I could find to portray my emotions at being done generation 3. Ho. Lee. Shit, guys.

We’re getting a new town and everything, it’s gonna be sick. Let’s fucking do this.

Also, I thought it was so nice to have Oscar, Noemi, and Rylo all in the same chapter. Sort of… The Noemi thing is a bit of a bummer. But if you look closely you can see Daniel’s shed in the pictures where Oscar and the guys are looking at the zombies. I had originally wanted to do a regular legacy and have Daniel and all his descendants live on that lot and build onto that little shed over time. God am I glad I changed my mind.

I feel like this was a good wrap-up chapter for the Moonlight Falls era. I hope you enjoy following Rylo into generation 4! From now on I’m going to be returning to a once-per-week schedule, so Chapter 4.1 will be up next Sunday!