Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Forty-Two | Fourth World

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His entire body was riddled with pain. With every movement he made, his legs threatened to buckle underneath him. The deep laceration located on his back burned a searing pain, rendering him breathless and on the brink of collapse. He couldn't tell for sure how large the wound was, but he could make an educated guess; the pain sent him spiralling, ensnaring him in the memory of how he obtained the injury.

Body soaked in blood— only some of it his own— he pushed onwards. Step by aching step, bloody hand pressed hard against the bark of a tree for a single moment's rest-bite, the exhausted fighter grit his teeth and mentally screamed at himself to keep moving. Because the moment he stopped, he would topple to the ground and likely lose himself to the darkness which continued to creep into the corner of his vision.

But his determination wavered when he missed a step, knee slamming roughly into the ground. As his gaze met the mossy ground, he had a moment to listen to the thick blobs of rain hitting the leaves which surrounded him. He had finally made it back to the forest; within touching distance of his loved ones.

It was dangerous to allow himself time to think that the fight was over. When it had only truly just begun.

Crackles and snaps lured Falcon's attention elsewhere, up ahead and in the direction he was heading in. He had only been focusing on the steps immediately in front of him, so he hadn't noticed the inferno that awaited. His body visibly slumped at the sight, but his shoulders grew increasingly tense as the hellish blaze fanned warm air against his face. His hair which was matted with blood, stuck to his skin as it dried. But he couldn't bring himself to move it, to control his hands which were otherwise shaking.

The rain had done a good job of drowning his senses, allowing him the lone battle of pushing his body to the brink. Keeping him from all other distractions. Keeping him from seeing that his intended goal could potentially have already disintegrated into ruin.

Some of that dried blood which coated his skin began to run under the sudden change in weather. Droplets trickled down his brow-bone and he flinched when one landed on his eyelid. He frantically wiped it away before finding himself staring at his bare hands. Hands which had grabbed any weapon they could find, slashing down Hawk's men who stood in front of him with every step he had taken. They just kept coming, so Falcon's incessant fighting never eased up.

At some point he realised he was alone. No longer surrounded by the men he had selected to follow him to the meeting with Hawk. Whether they had fallen, or gone their own way, Falcon couldn't say for sure. If he was in the right mind, he would turn around and go back to search for them. But Falcon knew it would be pointless.

Because those individuals, those spectacular warriors, knew the importance of returning home.

Hands clenching into fists, skin red and raw from fighting tooth and nail to get where he was, Falcon pushed himself back onto his feet. He fought to compose his thoughts, and in doing wondered what Finch would do. His little bird, who was probably best suited to a name belonging to a bird of prey.

One he couldn't help but imagine was trapped in the centre of this fire-pit.

The trees wouldn't easily catch alight, the woodland was predominantly lush and resistant to all weather types. Which meant that the rate of the fire spreading was extremely slow. On top of that, the rain had started to fall. And judging by the thick, broody clouds which dominated the skies, it wouldn't let up for some time.

But that's all Falcon needed— time.

With Finch at the forefront of his mind, he was able to muster up the energy he thought he had lost and started moving slowly, putting one foot in front of the other. Then he picked up pace, using the plethora of trees to aid him initially. Soon he was jogging, reaching where the fire had only just spread to. Which is where he came face to face with three more of Hawk's men.