🌀 [ charles @ mutatiiions ]
Send "🌀" to find my muse, injured and alone after being beaten up
@mutatiiions
Pain isn’t something Farouk is used to. He should get up, see how badly he’s hurt, make certain that no Division Three soldiers have followed him after his last-minute teleport. But instead he’s staring up at the sky as if he’s never seen it before, trapped in this moment. Pain has an element of blank, he thinks, to himself. Unfortunately, poetry doesn’t seem to make a broken leg feel any better.
The sound of wheels on concrete breaks through his reverie, and he looks up and - oh.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire. His powers are numbed and weak, courtesy of a Division Three dart gun, and his body is beaten and broken. He hasn’t escaped after all.
Farouk pushes himself upright, biting his tongue to not make a sound when he accidentally jostles his leg. He will not show weakness in front of Charles.
“So,” he says, dragging the word out as he looks up at the man who once killed him. “Have you come to finish what you started, all those years ago?” He waves a hand, graciously. “As you can see, I am in no state to object.”
If he’s going to die, he has no intention of begging, of making himself weak. He will go out with dignity, one way or another.
