Survivals instincts kicked in – a knowledgeable man, he made a good fall.
...An incredibly good fall. He expected to come out of it with some injuries, but the pain soon subsided with no break or soreness worth noting. If his quick reaction can likely be complimented… something feels off.
Nothing worth wasting time over, though. Quick on his feet, he immediately scans the area for an escape route. Surrounded by unbearably hot lava, he can only see one way out; he promptly looks for the best area of the “wall” to begin climbing and gets to work as soon as he’s sure of himself.
Its surface burns his hands over and over again, but confident in his absurd strength, he goes without hesitation…
He climbs for a long time, replaying in his head the torture he already endured. Stubbornly going forward to eventually fall to his death…
When he finally reaches the outside, a rush of adrenaline gets the best of him. He sprints down the side of the volcano to, when he reaches the ground, be obligated to launch his hands forward. He falls, and they hit the soil first…
As if they didn’t already hurt enough. As if he weren’t traumatised enough.
But he knows not to linger. Always on guard, he stands up as soon as his body permits him to. He scans the area again; he finds himself in some sort of forest. A tropical place, if he had to guess.
Which doesn’t make sense.
He evaluates every option. Perhaps his execution isn’t actually over (which doesn’t match their established format.) Perhaps life after death isn’t what he expected (which begs the question of who will find him here.)
He doesn’t sense any upcoming danger. This gives credence to the second option, which he struggles to accept. He considers it, still. If death truly wasn’t the end, then, Oscar still belongs to his family.
A new noise compels him to chase away the grimace creeping its way out of his face. An animal? No, a human. Keeping an ear out, he positions himself defensively.
Human. Two legs, no limp. Roughly 80 kilograms, if not carrying a weapon. Combat boots.
A soldier? Oscar checks that his feet are on solid ground. He looks around for the best path to run if necessary.
This one should be the easiest to run through. These plants seem like the best to cover him. It will depend on his opponent, for whom he listens...
…but he’s lost track of. Impressive. He scans the area again, but he detects no movement.
A soldier on the prowl. The bodyguard doesn’t know where he is, but he’s not ready to be caught before he figures it out. He checks for a trap around him with his heel; nothing here. Unfamiliar with his surroundings, he’s at a tactical disadvantage – but he has only identified one opponent, which he knows he can deal with.
Complete silence. They might be waiting for him to make a move first. He has to consider the ri—
They hit him at top speed. With a swift shoving movement, they force him to lose his equilibrium; nothing he can’t deal with. Without a second of hesitation, he wraps his arm around their neck in a chokehold…
But what happens next, and its inhuman speed, stuns him. The attacker escapes with no struggle, and before he can comprehend it, they immobilise his arm behind his back and shove him forward.
With a sharp pain behind the neck, Oscar loses consciousness.
… … … … … …He lives. Before even fully regaining consciousness, he becomes aware that his arms and legs are firmly tied.
The pain in his neck is already gone. He identifies nothing to cover his mouth or lock his jaw. Perhaps he’s been drugged? He identifies no clear effects of the such. Underneath him is still soil. He may not have been moved, or if he was, not far. If the attacker was truly alone, carrying him may have been too difficult to justify.
…Realising that he’s regained full awareness, he opens both eyes at the same time. He only sees soil at first, but he quickly runs an inventory in his head. Nothing to cover his eyes. Nothing to prevent him from screaming. The sun is still up in the sky.
He’s able to move his head; when he does, his gaze soon meets that of his attacker…
Well, the one eye that works.
Kneeling at a safe distance, Noah Landon stares at him with a giddy smile.
The Ultimate Soldier. A ball gag was indeed unnecessary; well and truly baffled, the Ultimate Bodyguard keeps his trap shut.
The soldier, though, doesn’t.
“- Looks like I’ve still got it.”
His horrible voice derails the second he opens his mouth, but his proud, wide smile makes his cheeks look rounder, accentuating the boyish appearance of his face…
The one half that still looks human, that is.
Isn’t this the man who thought a teenage model stood the slightest chance to overpower him?
Oscar opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
The soldier notices. Without taking his eye off him, he raises his head, turning his childish smile into a creepy grin.
“- This could be an opportunity to test the limits of this place… I’ll see if you survive without water or…”
A dry cough interrupts him.
“- …or food… and if you die, I’ll see if you come back.
- Torture, huh? You’re an army man alright.”
The coughing seems to be what grounded Oscar. This is indeed the Noah Landon he had the displeasure of meeting. He tries at his restraints… but cannot identify a single weak point.
He most likely tried to put on a cutesy voice, but it squeaks painfully.
“- Do you believe you’re dead?”
Oscar turns his face away from the ground. He’s not in the mood to eat soil.
“- I don’t believe in anything.”
This is when the smile turns into a façade.
“- …All the more… reason to… experiment,” the soldier continues.
His voice almost dies down by the end of this short sentence, but the bodyguard is in no position to be easy-going.
The corners of his lips curl into a bitter smile, but taken with a coughing fit, the soldier doesn’t notice it.
“- Two people, in fact. Two kids.
He coughs again. He really has very little strength to speak.
His smile had already dropped, but his face quickly distorts with disgust.
- What are you talking about? I had people to protect.”
“- What did you have? A girl you’d barely met? Desperation? Like you have a leg to stand on.
He crawls towards Oscar and sticks that disgusting face against his.
Fucking torture, as expected.
“- A Mafioso. Get out of my face.”
Surprisingly, he obliges.
That fucking smile covers the lower half of his face again.
“- Not anymore. It’s just… us. Here.
It quickly drops. There is another person.
Noah and himself were both “executed” as killers in the “Killing Game”. There must be a third, but…
“- Is it the dude or the babe?”
…Right then... gratuitous violence. The soldier darted up to kick him in the gut.
Oscar nearly chokes on his own bile. Babe it is.
And that about confirms what his family’s intel had gathered. Talk about fucking your son up, Lieutenant.
He’s projecting. Either he’s desperate to protect another girl, or he wants to keep her for himself.
The bodyguard is too smart to ask which one it is.
“- Fine. I get the picture. Tell me what I have to do to be free.”
Something he’s never been before. Coming out of his mouth, it rings false.
