OBLIVION [Thomesa]

twenty five

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Gleeful cackles echoed through the fiery walls. "How long has it been since you've eaten? Four days? Five?" He swung his knife jaggedly at Minho who dodged it. "How long since you've slept?"
Minho was tired. And weak.

But death would not wait for him to be rested to steal his friend's fading life from him. Death never does catch you when you're ready. "The thought of you made me too sick to eat."

"Ooh, did I give you nightmares, too?" Janson was taking advantage of the situation - Minho was not willing to leave his friend's side for a moment. Never again. But it left him unable to move. It made him an easy target.

The room billowed with flame's million orange tongues,
and salty sweat coursed down both their faces,
beneath their masks and smiling lipstick.

The room was a shifting chaotic desert set aflame,
as it swerved and jumped with every slash of the Janson's knife.

Minho was barely blocking the blows. Finally Minho grabbed the hand holding the knife, as it jabbed at him, yanking it forward. The Rat Man stumbled forward, and while the Rat Man staggered, he jerked up the arm, and brought it down hard over his shoulder, snapping it.

Janson howled in rage, turning, grabbing at Minho's neck with a viselike grip. Minho pressed his arm down further, in an attempt to incapacitate him, but Janson seemed unfazed by the pain now. They wrestled silently for a moment. "You know - " Janson said out of breath, "when I made this plan, I was told to break a leg, not an arm." He hissed.

"I can help with that as well." Janson sank to his knees, surrendering beneath the dark furious storm before him. "You know, I think you're going to beat me, Minho."

Minho said nothing, raising a hand to knock him unconscious.

"But in the fire and all this fun - you didn't see her."

It clicked in his mind.
Janson wasn't alone.
Gally had left the room - he would deal with him later.

"Joke's on you." A high-pitched voice resonated loudly.
There was the sound of splintering wood. And then a fiery object was falling from the ceiling. Janson's ally had crept into the rafters - after Minho had left them. Janson had seen her, had stalled - allowed his blade to be caught.

She then kicked down one of the deteriorating beams of steel and wood from the ceiling - a twelve-foot long wood plank, set afire -
falling onto a blind Thomas.

Minho released Janson,
turning -
lunging,
and his body slammed down to the ground next to Thomas's form, his hands thrown up in an effort to catch the wood before it crushed his friend. It fell down onto his spread hands. They shook with pain instantly, as he held the weight only a few inches above his chest. His trembling hands were sinking.

He kicked Thomas out from beneath the plank -
and then,
Pain
a knife sunk into his side.
Minho flinched as Janson twisted the blade.
And then his arms buckled,
and the log smashed into his chest, pinning his arms down,
knocking the air out of him with a rush.

The Rat Man walked over to Thomas. "Did you know it's almost the 4th of July? Independence Day!" Janson simpered, pulling off a stick from the log, and letting it catch aflame at the top. "And I have had yet to see my fireworks."