Another fist sunk into the gut of a white-coated researcher, the beaver doubling over in a pained gasp, only standing through the hulking seabird standing behind him, hooking his arms and holding him in place.
“I don’t have time for this, asshole,” hissed the sharply cut words of a striking green hawk as he knelt, tauntingly raising a finger to the chin of his captive and lifting up their head. “Where...did your men...put it?”
The researcher, barely able to gasp out his words, spat out a mouthful of blood between his strained breaths, then strained out whatever syllables he could muster. “Y...y-your people...n-nearly destroyed themselves...w-with those artifacts... P...p-please...w...w-we can do...s-so much good with them...r-redeem their disasters...l-let us do that for them”
Every nerve in Jet’s body tensed up, fists trembling as he fought to hold back the muscle memory to swing. The room was a dreadful silence, only interrupted by the click’s of a purple-hued swallow’s fingers tapping away at the keys of a laptop.
“What...did you just tell me?”
The bandit leader’s eyes clamped shut, beak twisting into a hate-strewn scowl. He could feel it building, a pressure surging through his every vein, a burning sensation overcoming his arms as if just keeping them still pained him.
“You BASTARD!,” the hawk shouted, lunging for his captive’s jaw. “My ancestors SACRIFICED themselves to create these treasures!” Again, Jet’s fist sunk into the beaver’s cheek, violently twisting their head aside. “And you fucking RATS! You’d take EVERYTHING from us if you could! Don’t you DARE tell me that we should just stand down and let you rob us of this, too! Especially not for a greater good that would have us just wither away and DIE!”
With every shout, every ear-piercing screech of anguish and rage, the lead Rogue sank his knuckles into his captive’s skull, battering away with a strength normally far beyond the bandit’s limit. With each hit, the beaver’s face was more and more unrecognizable...a split lip, a face purpled and swollen, and blood dripping from cuts torn into the misshapen and miscolored lumps on their face.
And the very last of these strikes? It was enough to rip the captive even from Storm’s grasp, launching the researcher sliding across the outpost, terrified and shivering co-workers sheepishly daring to rush to his aid. The albatross watched the scene unfold in silence, his widened eyes shifting between the small group circled around the brutalized archaeologist, and the splatters of crimson that stained his leader’s white gloves.
Even Wave seemed to be unnerved, the tapping of the keyboard finally coming to a halt as the mechanic simply sat there, eyes closed. Moments passed, and the typing soon resumed, eventually leading to a window flashing onto the swallow’s screen.
“I found it. South storage, rack thirteen, in an unmarked crate”
Jet’s beak twisted into a crooked little grin, the dim light shining darkly on his face. “See? All that bravado and for what? You at least should have played nice and told us what we wanted. We would have already been gone and you’d be...well...able to hear me over the ringing in your ears”
“Alright, Rogues. Let’s snag it and get the hell outta here. I’ve had enough of this place”
