Cracks in the Mask

Concerning

Notes:

Happy Wednesday Descendants!

We hope you're ready for a Concerning chapter... For T and Harry...

Yeah...

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Lots of Love!

-Dark-

(See the end of the chapter for questions.)

An ambush? Really?

And they'd walked right into it. Edged down the stairs into the dark, dilapidated basement of a building full of mattresses.

T jumps back, barely dodging the blunt edge of the gap-toothed prick's sword. Any slower and he'd have another scar across his neck.

He automatically adjusts his footing on the slippery stone floor, silently thanking Jay for all the drills they'd run through. His mind was so clouded, but at least his damn body knew what to do. It'd been a while since he'd fought four to one.

Red stains his vision when the piece of shit in front of him grins wickedly.

"Ya ain't lookin' so good Shadow." The man's eyes shift before his smile widens before the other fuckers in the room cheer, "Neither is yer double."

A low growl leaves his throat as he fights down the urge to look. Harry was more than capable of handling himself. "I'd be more focused on yourself right now, prick." They'd been going like this for hours, but they'd hit a jackpot when they'd swept down the stairs of this bar.

Five unsuspecting idiots were certainly easier to take out than eight prepared ones. He couldn't get distracted. Not right now.

He had to trust Harry.

"Suit yerself." Fritz sneers. Spit flies as he yells and rushes him.

He manages to block the awkward, untrained angle the man was using, catching the guy off guard when he pins the rusty sword between his own sword and dagger.

Before he can twist the blade away, Fritz manages to surprise him with a kick to the gut. He falls back, all the wind knocked from his lungs at the impact.

Shit. SHIT!

His sword! His dagger!

He looks around, through the black spots in his vision, trying to find them. To find anything to block the swing he knew was coming his way.

Fuck! He rolls on instinct.

The tang of metal hitting metal makes him look up.

"Ya-" Harry grunts before returns the kick, sending Fritz backward a few steps, "-be done with yer nap?" He heaves before he turns back to his own attacker.

"Oh, shut up." He bites back, forcing his voice through the painful void in his chest as he jumps back to his feet, a broken bottle clenched in one hand, his spare dagger in the other.

"I be thinkin' back ta back?" Harry offers as he holds his sword and hook up, facing the five still standing.

"Probably." He breathes, his eyes narrowing on the man now holding a dagger.

His dagger.

"See ya be-" Harry shakes his head, "ah gettin' two."

"Still time ta catch up." He grins.

"Aye." Harry gives him a small smile. But for some reason, his aching chest tightened at it.

He'd worry about it later. Harry was fine. Had to be fine.