Cry of Fear and VenturianTale P.I.E. Crossover *DISCONTINUED*

Part 15: Lost

"Simon!" Ghost yelled. He watched as the teen fell through the crack in the floor. It closed up behind him, and he was gone.

"Oh no!" Spooker cried. They stared at the spot where Simon had just stood.

"We have to find him!" Toast said. Ghost grabbed his arm before he could leave. "No, Johnny," he said firmly. "We need to leave this place."

"What?!" Colon yelled. "We can't just leave him!" Spooker nodded and crossed his arms. "Yeah! He's our friend!"

"Think about it, guys!" Ghost said. "He's lived here his whole life! He knows how to get around, and he's handled himself better than we have with anything that's gone on here."

Toast scowled and yanked his arm out of Ghost's grip. "He'll be okay on his own!" Ghost said, trying to convince them.

"No, sir..." Toast growled. "You don't remember how unpredictable everything has been? He could get seriously injured, and we wouldn't be there to help! He's just a kid..."

Ghost was about to protest, until he processed what Toast had said.

"You... You're right, Toast..." Ghost said, putting his face in his hands. How could I even consider leaving that poor guy behind?! he thought.

"Well, let's get him then!" Colon said, his brow furrowing in determination.

Ghost pointed to the elevator. "Come on!"

** ** **

"Relax, I'm not one of them..." the doctor said.

"Who are you, then?" Simon asked.

"Nobody..." he replied, edging towards a door that was beside him.

What's with the gas mask? Simon thought. The man quickly turned around and left through the door.

Simon sighed. From the looks of him, he wasn't a good guy.

He tried to open the door the doctor went through, but found that it was locked.

He looked around and saw an elevator and another door. I shouldn't go back up... he thought. He went through a door to find a similar room.

He huffed and continued through the doors and a hallway. A few monsters blocked his way, but he was able to dispatch them easily.

He reached an outside area, and discovered that it had started raining.

He shivered and walked up beside an abandoned cop car. A police baton lay beside it in a small puddle. He picked it up and wiped it off on his jacket.

He looked it over, then held it in a way that he could use it. No sooner than he had taken a few steps forward than at least five crawling monsters climbed over a nearby fenced wall.

He yelped and backed up. They all charged at him, and he decided to use his new weapon.

He hit one with it, but it didn't go down. The rest all swarmed him and started attacking him.

He hit the first one again, and it fell to it's side. Two hits, huh? he thought. The baton had a decent weight to it, so it was a pretty slow swing.

He dodged a few attacks and eventually was able to beat the rest down. He hadn't been able to dodge every attack and was hurt pretty badly.

He could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears. "Damn," he muttered. He wished he still had the morphine shots. Toast must've taken them from him when he was knocked out. Might've even used them on him to ease the pain of the stab wounds.

He groaned and stumbled to an alleyway. He sat down, not caring that he was getting soaked.

He noticed a news article laying on a dry patch of concrete and picked it up. It was an ad for a hotline to help with depression.

He breathed deeply and pulled out his phone. He felt horrible. Not just physically, but mentally, too. He was lost, and he had no one.

He was alone, just like before.