07-31-2013, 08:24 AM
Jaxen crawled to a wall. Bits of loose asphalt and rock pierced his palms, but he sunk to the ground too weak to swipe them away. He did, however rub a sleeve across his mouth. The taste of vomit, acid and sulfur still burned a hole in the back of his throat, and he spit out what he could. It didn't do much good.
His stomach was knots, like he'd swallowed rocks and their jagged edges scraped the inside of his esophagus on the way down. And he was burning hot. He rolled to his back, unzipped his jacket and let it flop open to the sides. The t-shirt beneath clung to his chest, but the v-neck collar circulated minimal air around his throat. So he lifted it from the lower hem, hoping the fresh air would help. Yeah. Big mistake.
The sudden flush of chill night air pebbled his skin, shooting lightning fast waves of sensation up and down his body. A second later he was rolling to the side and puking before he even had time to shove to his hands and knees.
He laid there a long time afterward, just a slightly darker ridge in the shadows of this god-forsaken alley. He reeked of sweat and puke, or maybe part of the stench was wafting from the dumpster he was laying alongside, and his mind was ablaze with incoherent questions. What the hell was wrong with him? How many stunts had he pulled in that drag race? Where was that goddamn motel??
With some semblance of strength regained, he shoved to one knee, then made to stand, and was careful to not let the cold air flush his feverish skin again. Another wipe cleaned off his face and the short stubble around his jaw and he palmed his hair back from his eyes.
"Hey, you alright?"
A voice called not ten steps away.
Startled, Jax jerked sharply that way. Upon realizing it was just another guy, though as they were only illuminated by the distant lights coming from the streets at each end of the alley and his features were pretty much impossible to discern, he relaxed. Slightly.
"I'll survive,"
he answered flatly.
The man came closer, and Jax frowned. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with--well, whatever the dude had in mind.
"Look, dude I don't have anything on me except this."
Annoyed, he pulled the edge of his jacket back far enough to reveal the holstered Wallet. Most people kept the slim bit of Tech in a pocket, but Jaxen was smart enough to know how easily pockets could be emptied. Which explains his usual attire--a zipped up, snug against his ribs, turned up at the collar jacket.
The man sniffed an amused chuckle and Jax's shoulders sank. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.
He shoved away from the wall, intending to get out of here without getting raped, but the man took two steps and was right on him.
A hard grip latched onto Jax's arm, and when he spun to try and knock the guy off, it was he who was hurled sideways. He slammed into the dumpster, the collision rippling a deep, metallic thud across the empty alley, and he stumbled in absolute shock. Then to his horror the dude was already back on him, faster than he should have been, and Jax was shoved to the ground just in time to take a boot to the guts.
Just as Jaxen realized he was about to get the shit kicked out of him, the guy started clawing at his jacket and shirt, trying to-- get at his throat?! What the--?!!
Then all of a sudden, the guy's weight was completely lifted, and panting, Jaxen scrambling as best he could to get away.
Another guy was there--the one who ripped the batshit crazy attacker off him. He was big shape wearing a long coat and was currently completely focused on the attacker. Their fight was over fast, thirty seconds maybe, but it felt like the blink of an eye. Next thing Jaxen knew, the most wicked looking knife he'd ever seen was jammed into the side of the newcomer's throat and ripped out the front. His body dropped.
Jaxen was too horrified to puke, but when the thing that attacked him approached again, he knew he wasn't going to get away.
---
He awoke God knows how long later, somewhere dark and humid, with quiet drips in the distance, chained up, and pretty sure he was in pretty deep shit this time. But at least the fever seemed to have broke.
His stomach was knots, like he'd swallowed rocks and their jagged edges scraped the inside of his esophagus on the way down. And he was burning hot. He rolled to his back, unzipped his jacket and let it flop open to the sides. The t-shirt beneath clung to his chest, but the v-neck collar circulated minimal air around his throat. So he lifted it from the lower hem, hoping the fresh air would help. Yeah. Big mistake.
The sudden flush of chill night air pebbled his skin, shooting lightning fast waves of sensation up and down his body. A second later he was rolling to the side and puking before he even had time to shove to his hands and knees.
He laid there a long time afterward, just a slightly darker ridge in the shadows of this god-forsaken alley. He reeked of sweat and puke, or maybe part of the stench was wafting from the dumpster he was laying alongside, and his mind was ablaze with incoherent questions. What the hell was wrong with him? How many stunts had he pulled in that drag race? Where was that goddamn motel??
With some semblance of strength regained, he shoved to one knee, then made to stand, and was careful to not let the cold air flush his feverish skin again. Another wipe cleaned off his face and the short stubble around his jaw and he palmed his hair back from his eyes.
"Hey, you alright?"
A voice called not ten steps away.
Startled, Jax jerked sharply that way. Upon realizing it was just another guy, though as they were only illuminated by the distant lights coming from the streets at each end of the alley and his features were pretty much impossible to discern, he relaxed. Slightly.
"I'll survive,"
he answered flatly.
The man came closer, and Jax frowned. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with--well, whatever the dude had in mind.
"Look, dude I don't have anything on me except this."
Annoyed, he pulled the edge of his jacket back far enough to reveal the holstered Wallet. Most people kept the slim bit of Tech in a pocket, but Jaxen was smart enough to know how easily pockets could be emptied. Which explains his usual attire--a zipped up, snug against his ribs, turned up at the collar jacket.
The man sniffed an amused chuckle and Jax's shoulders sank. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.
He shoved away from the wall, intending to get out of here without getting raped, but the man took two steps and was right on him.
A hard grip latched onto Jax's arm, and when he spun to try and knock the guy off, it was he who was hurled sideways. He slammed into the dumpster, the collision rippling a deep, metallic thud across the empty alley, and he stumbled in absolute shock. Then to his horror the dude was already back on him, faster than he should have been, and Jax was shoved to the ground just in time to take a boot to the guts.
Just as Jaxen realized he was about to get the shit kicked out of him, the guy started clawing at his jacket and shirt, trying to-- get at his throat?! What the--?!!
Then all of a sudden, the guy's weight was completely lifted, and panting, Jaxen scrambling as best he could to get away.
Another guy was there--the one who ripped the batshit crazy attacker off him. He was big shape wearing a long coat and was currently completely focused on the attacker. Their fight was over fast, thirty seconds maybe, but it felt like the blink of an eye. Next thing Jaxen knew, the most wicked looking knife he'd ever seen was jammed into the side of the newcomer's throat and ripped out the front. His body dropped.
Jaxen was too horrified to puke, but when the thing that attacked him approached again, he knew he wasn't going to get away.
---
He awoke God knows how long later, somewhere dark and humid, with quiet drips in the distance, chained up, and pretty sure he was in pretty deep shit this time. But at least the fever seemed to have broke.