Traffic [Valduggery, Skulduggery Pleasant Fanfiction]

Potholes

Vyerix Polaris was currently cuffed and sitting in the back of Skulduggery Pleasant's car. Well, sitting is such a general term, because she was more bent over, taking quick, short breaths and trying not to move. Her ribs were broken.

Pleasant and Cain were sitting there, fighting over the radio.

"You broke my ribs," Vyerix rasped.

Cain didn't even look back. "Yes, well, you did punch that nice mortal's face in."

Vyerix's face twisted, but she kept her mouth shut. She was probably going to pass out. Another shuddering breath, one that made her insides feel like they were on fire. Maybe if her hands weren't shackled behind her back...

Vyerix's eyes fell on the back of Cain's head. Oh, if her hands weren't shackled...

Cain made a noise of disgust. "Oh, God, what is with you and these slow songs?"

Pleasant looked at her. "You like slow songs."

"No, I only like them sometimes. When I'm trying to go to sleep. Not when we've saved the day. I need something, like, triumphant. Powerful." Cain was scrolling through her phone, hair obscuring Vyerix's view of her face.

"We didn't save the day, we just beat up someone."

"Yeah, but a scumbag-someone."

Vyerix let out a snarl—a feeble, weak snarl, but one nonetheless. "You're one to talk about scumbags. Finally back—"

They hit a pothole.

Vyerix nearly started crying. She tried sitting up, but that hurt, too. Cain and Pleasant seemed to be blissfully unaware that they were causing a prisoner pain. Maybe they enjoyed it. They hit another pothole and Vyerix let out a slight moan.

"No, we need something happy." Cain fiddled with her phone.

Something really, really awful started blaring out of the speakers. Vyerix started crying.

Pleasant reached over, tried to wrestled the phone out of Cain's hands. She slapped the hand away, laughing and turning the sound up louder. The man was singing something about blow-up dolls and they hit another pothole.

"Valkyrie, you're being ridiculous."

"I've literally heard you humming this song." Cain twisted in the seat, legs coming up, and she curled into a protective ball. The song changed to something slightly less awful.

"Sing this," Cain prompted.

"We have a murderer in the back seat, and you want me to sing The Beatles?"

"What does the scumbag have anything to do with your voice? Sing it and I'll let you chose a song. Come on. I know you love singing."

"This is highly unprofessional."

Vyerix growled. "I would have thought you two would have preferred flaying me to arresting me. I ran, just like everyone else when they heard about you. You should—"

Cain turned. In the receding light, Vyerix saw the black eye spreading across Cain's pretty features. Vyerix grinned at that.

"How can he look at you?"

Another pothole and Vyerix didn't stop the sob.

"Well, she is very pretty," Pleasant muttered.

"Can I punch her?"

"My hands are on the wheel and my eyes on the road, Valkyrie. How can I both stop you and drive safely?"

"You don't have eyes," Valkyrie corrected.

Vyerix's world was suddenly filled with a fist and a lot of stars.

When she woke, it was dark. Vyerix was curled on the seat, arms numb. They were in a city now, the orange streetlamps illuminating the interior of the car. Cain's seat was reclined, and Vyerix realized she was sleeping.

And Pleasant was singing. Low, under his breath.

The car swerved, smooth and purposeful. They weren't hitting any more potholes.