blindwoofer
Lildear18
Cyadical
Balalaika
wanderingwolf
ButtsnBalls
Mixtape Ghost N
The Raven Calls
hanzoHe heard it before he saw them. He's been preparing to round the corner up ahead when there was the screech of tires, the stench of burnt rubber filling his nostrils. Then driver's side of his vehicle was suddenly caving in on him.
Icarus had known something bad was going to happen the moment they turned off the public streets and into the shadows of dimly lit neighborhood roads. The hairs along the back of his neck stood up. He knew -he knew!- he should have stopped right then and there. Turned the car around and gone with another plan. But it had taken him goddamned months to be able to get this close to Asimov's men, and he feared he'd lose all traces and be back to square one if he lost sight of them now. So he curled his fingers tighter onto the steering wheel and stubbornly pressed on. Look where that got him.
Hacking up a wet cough, Icarus assessed the situation. He was still in his seat, a good sign, but the pressure building in the front of his face and the acrid taste of blood in his mouth suggested he may have broken his nose. Seemed the airbags had failed him... He groaned and tried moving his head to look around. Crazy what sort of things an automobile accident can cause the human body. All that metal, all that leather. Tempered glass, reinforced seat belts. And for what? One would think that in this day and age, vehicles would be sturdy enough to protect their passengers but alas, it seemed mankind was evolving much too slowly to keep up with the advancement of their technology. Still moved around like beads in a tin can if jarred too much. More specifically he'd been t-boned and Icarus only knew this because the impact hadn't knocked him out. Yet. He felt he was on the verge of losing consciousness but stubbornly refused to go lax. Still slouched forward over the steering wheel, Icarus grunted and sat up. The obnoxious blaring finally stopped when he lifted his chest off the horn but there was still that aggravating bright light to his side. Squinting, he put his hand up to shield his eyes from the high-beams. The Hummer that had charged him backed up a few feet before it stopped once more. Doors on both sides opened up and out stepped three dark-clad figures. Icarus undid the seat belt and dove to floor space beneath the passenger seat, ducking just in time to avoid the rain of bullets piercing the thin metal barrier between him and them.
Icarus opened his door and fell out with a thud, clawing at the frost-hardened ground to put the car between himself and his assailants. Usually he enjoyed the cold but now the snow falling from the darkened sky above made it hard for him to see what he was doing. It make his breath form white puffs and his fingers tremble just a little too much. 'Shit.' He pulled out the Glock from his belt and peeked under the vehicle; one to his right and the other two on his left. Okay, this was doable. He decided to file out the single first and crawled closer, practically getting under his car. Icarus pointed the gun. 'One. Two. Three...' He squeezed the trigger and the second his quarry dropped, aimed the finishing shot at the man's head. The other two backed away from the car and attempted to split up. Icarus rolled out from beneath his car and got up into a crouch before moving closer to the front end. He popped up and quickly fired two more rounds, downing a second man. The third fired back but in that moment exposed himself, allowing Icarus to take his last shot.
He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he was forced to cough. Icarus rose and sheathed his gun.
A forth figure approached from behind and pulled him into a headlock.
He threw his head back and was granted a satisfying crack as bone met bone but that did little to loosen the grip around his neck. Icarus tucked his chin in, leaned back, braced his hands, and dropped his weight to throw the other off-balance. His opponent countered with a kick to the bend of his leg and a tightened choke. Icarus gave a cry and was forced to kneel. His vision began to go black. Becoming more desperate with each passing second he risked grabbing for the knife sheathed at his ankle and slashed backwards. That momentarily won him his freedom before his head was promptly smashed into the car's headlight. Stunned, he slumped to the ground. Icarus could feel himself being hauled up and tossed over a shoulder but could do nothing about it. A few steps later and he was unceremoniously dropped into the boot of the Hummer before being tied up and locked in there.
Humiliating.
The rest of the hour -at least that's how long it felt- passed in a blur. Icarus floated between in and out of consciousness. The black pit swallowing him whole made it difficult to discern between the two but the occasional bump in the road (his driver seemed to specifically be swerving for those, the bastard) helped him differentiate. Finally it seemed they'd come to a stop. The trunk was popped open and a sack pulled over his head before he was yanked out and dragged along. He was moved indoors, somewhere below ground level past a labyrinth of doors and corridors. He knew they'd reached their destination when they eventually arrived at a room that stank of moldy air and death. Literally. Whether their were decomposing bodies or a waste bucket in here somewhere he was unsure but the stench was enough to make him gag. It was revolting. Icarus was pushed ahead and forced into a chair before being tied down. The sack was removed. He looked around and counted five angry strangers. Oh shit, when did she get here? Icarus quickly looked away, not wanting his captors to start jumping to conclusions. If they decided to try using her against him then things would get really ugly really fast.
Icarus cleared his throat before speaking in the mother tongue. "Thank you. Now I can look you in the eye before I spit." He did just that, blood and phlegm staining the front of his attire. He missed terribly and was rewarded with a strike to the gut but that was worth it, in his opinion. Another hit, this time from a figure to his side, before the one who'd brought him here spoke up.
"What is your name?"
"Some say I look like a 'Dorian'. I don't see it."
Another hit. He stifled a pained groan.
"Who sent you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." That earned him a meaty hand covering his nose and mouth. He struggled feebly but they didn't let up until tears started streaming down his cheeks.
Oh this was going to be fun.
Icarus had known something bad was going to happen the moment they turned off the public streets and into the shadows of dimly lit neighborhood roads. The hairs along the back of his neck stood up. He knew -he knew!- he should have stopped right then and there. Turned the car around and gone with another plan. But it had taken him goddamned months to be able to get this close to Asimov's men, and he feared he'd lose all traces and be back to square one if he lost sight of them now. So he curled his fingers tighter onto the steering wheel and stubbornly pressed on. Look where that got him.
Hacking up a wet cough, Icarus assessed the situation. He was still in his seat, a good sign, but the pressure building in the front of his face and the acrid taste of blood in his mouth suggested he may have broken his nose. Seemed the airbags had failed him... He groaned and tried moving his head to look around. Crazy what sort of things an automobile accident can cause the human body. All that metal, all that leather. Tempered glass, reinforced seat belts. And for what? One would think that in this day and age, vehicles would be sturdy enough to protect their passengers but alas, it seemed mankind was evolving much too slowly to keep up with the advancement of their technology. Still moved around like beads in a tin can if jarred too much. More specifically he'd been t-boned and Icarus only knew this because the impact hadn't knocked him out. Yet. He felt he was on the verge of losing consciousness but stubbornly refused to go lax. Still slouched forward over the steering wheel, Icarus grunted and sat up. The obnoxious blaring finally stopped when he lifted his chest off the horn but there was still that aggravating bright light to his side. Squinting, he put his hand up to shield his eyes from the high-beams. The Hummer that had charged him backed up a few feet before it stopped once more. Doors on both sides opened up and out stepped three dark-clad figures. Icarus undid the seat belt and dove to floor space beneath the passenger seat, ducking just in time to avoid the rain of bullets piercing the thin metal barrier between him and them.
Icarus opened his door and fell out with a thud, clawing at the frost-hardened ground to put the car between himself and his assailants. Usually he enjoyed the cold but now the snow falling from the darkened sky above made it hard for him to see what he was doing. It make his breath form white puffs and his fingers tremble just a little too much. 'Shit.' He pulled out the Glock from his belt and peeked under the vehicle; one to his right and the other two on his left. Okay, this was doable. He decided to file out the single first and crawled closer, practically getting under his car. Icarus pointed the gun. 'One. Two. Three...' He squeezed the trigger and the second his quarry dropped, aimed the finishing shot at the man's head. The other two backed away from the car and attempted to split up. Icarus rolled out from beneath his car and got up into a crouch before moving closer to the front end. He popped up and quickly fired two more rounds, downing a second man. The third fired back but in that moment exposed himself, allowing Icarus to take his last shot.
He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he was forced to cough. Icarus rose and sheathed his gun.
A forth figure approached from behind and pulled him into a headlock.
He threw his head back and was granted a satisfying crack as bone met bone but that did little to loosen the grip around his neck. Icarus tucked his chin in, leaned back, braced his hands, and dropped his weight to throw the other off-balance. His opponent countered with a kick to the bend of his leg and a tightened choke. Icarus gave a cry and was forced to kneel. His vision began to go black. Becoming more desperate with each passing second he risked grabbing for the knife sheathed at his ankle and slashed backwards. That momentarily won him his freedom before his head was promptly smashed into the car's headlight. Stunned, he slumped to the ground. Icarus could feel himself being hauled up and tossed over a shoulder but could do nothing about it. A few steps later and he was unceremoniously dropped into the boot of the Hummer before being tied up and locked in there.
Humiliating.
The rest of the hour -at least that's how long it felt- passed in a blur. Icarus floated between in and out of consciousness. The black pit swallowing him whole made it difficult to discern between the two but the occasional bump in the road (his driver seemed to specifically be swerving for those, the bastard) helped him differentiate. Finally it seemed they'd come to a stop. The trunk was popped open and a sack pulled over his head before he was yanked out and dragged along. He was moved indoors, somewhere below ground level past a labyrinth of doors and corridors. He knew they'd reached their destination when they eventually arrived at a room that stank of moldy air and death. Literally. Whether their were decomposing bodies or a waste bucket in here somewhere he was unsure but the stench was enough to make him gag. It was revolting. Icarus was pushed ahead and forced into a chair before being tied down. The sack was removed. He looked around and counted five angry strangers. Oh shit, when did she get here? Icarus quickly looked away, not wanting his captors to start jumping to conclusions. If they decided to try using her against him then things would get really ugly really fast.
Icarus cleared his throat before speaking in the mother tongue. "Thank you. Now I can look you in the eye before I spit." He did just that, blood and phlegm staining the front of his attire. He missed terribly and was rewarded with a strike to the gut but that was worth it, in his opinion. Another hit, this time from a figure to his side, before the one who'd brought him here spoke up.
"What is your name?"
"Some say I look like a 'Dorian'. I don't see it."
Another hit. He stifled a pained groan.
"Who sent you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." That earned him a meaty hand covering his nose and mouth. He struggled feebly but they didn't let up until tears started streaming down his cheeks.
Oh this was going to be fun.
