[Chr24] [Night Terror] Again, and Again

[ Night terror ]

Again, and Again

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Where am I? 

His head was pounding, and before he was knocked out Destry only remembered briefly that before all of this, he and the others were in a bar celebrating their newfound freedom from the ring. He remembered holding his glass high, cheering and the clink of their glasses before downing the shot. 

That’s all he remembers. 

Right now, it’s cold– and he blinks– blurry vision coming into focus as he takes in the view around him. Trying to pull his arm forward to scratch an itch on the back of his neck, he realizes he can’t pull his arm further than a couple inches before the all too familiar clank of metal chains prevents him from moving anymore. 

Are you kidding me? 

Eyes narrowing, the bruiser looks around– sighing in relief that he sees the other three still with him- albeit also in chains. He also notices a couple other unfamiliar figures wrapped in blankets– shivering.

He doesn’t remember this place, and it doesn’t smell familiar either. 

The roof was open, moonlight beaming down on the group. Snow falls all around them in a light flurry, and Destry sneezes as a snowflake lands on his nose. It is cold. 

The sneeze rattles the familiar figure next to him awake, and Gamma immediately goes to try to spring to his feet before the chains around his ankles make him forcefully buckle to his knees. He grunts in reaction, fingers balling into fists in the snow. He looks irritated, and rightfully so. 

“You fuckin’ joking? We just got out of this kind of shit, only to get pulled right back into this shit. I’m tired of fuckin’ metal chains,” the brawler spits, visibly seething. Going back into a sitting position, he does realize that he’s able to reach out and shake the other bruiser awake– Ares looks less than pleased to be shaken awake. Rolling his eyes, he then shakes his head of the snowflakes that have begun to accumulate in his hair. 

“Were you the one who spiked our drinks? Damn traitor, knew we shouldn’t have trusted your kind,” Gamma snarls, pointing his finger in the direction of the last figure of the group who had awoken from all the commotion. 

Vance was silent– he was used to this kind of treatment from all sides of the story. He was a traitor to his own kind, and he was too sketchy to be trusted by others. 

“It couldn’t have been him, he also drank with us– and he’s also here chained up with us dumbass,” Ares retorts, rolling his eyes at Gamma’s apparent outburst. “He was the one who helped us get out of the ring anyway, he stays true to his word.”

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Gamma sighs– still frustrated but it makes sense. It couldn’t have been Vance. Without him, they all would have still been trapped in that hell back in the city. Fight, sleep, eat- fight, sleep…that was, if you killed your opponent first. 

They were all trapped in that ring for over two decades. 

Snapped out of their thoughts, the group hears chattering coming from outside the isolated room. Despite it having an open roof, Destry was the first to notice that they were still trapped within four walls– only one steel door stood at the opposite side in which they were chained up. 

He noticed a couple of figures begin to crowd the other side of the door, their shadows flittering in from the single window in the middle. Willing himself to focus, he makes out the words “fight”, along with laughter. He swallows nervously. 

When the door swings open– a couple of burly looking individuals stride into the room– humans by the looks of it, and with them– a large shadow creeps in to stand beside them. 

A night plague, its piercing blue eyes boring into the captives across from it. The look in its eyes is full of bloodlust– but when its attention turned to the captive night plague- a hint of amusement flashed across its features. 

Vance grimaces in response. 

“Why, why, look at what we got here? A bunch of lost puppies,” the night plague curls its lip in amusement, its smile haunting as it stalks forward towards the group. However, instead of turning its attention to one of the group- it sets its eyes on a different figure. A normal leobuck, who was currently shivering in fear- cowering lower and lower into the blanket it had been provided. 

Suddenly, the night plague lunges- snapping its jaws incredibly close to the leobuck- who only shrieks in return. When it realized it wasn’t dead, it visibly appeared to relax. 

Instead, the night plague exhales – a chilling icy breath falling from its jaws and freezing the ‘buck solid. It only chuckles, turning on its heels before its whip-like tail strikes- shattering the icy figure into shards. 

Gamma’s gaze narrows at the display, and he clicks his tongue in disappointment. 

So it wasn’t going to be an easy escape, after all. 

“Oh hell no, we aren’t going through this shit again,” Ares bites, and in a ripple of fur– he appears to have shifted into his feral form- shaking out his fur and his lips curling back into a snarl. “We just got out, and we will be taking back our freedom.” In a flash, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth– a spark, and then blue flames appear to lick the outside of his lips. 

“You’re not the only one with a couple of tricks up his sleeve, asshole,” the bruiser bites– letting loose a breath of illuminating blue fire on a stack of hay that lay in the corner of the room- warming up their surroundings. 

At that signal, the rest of the group had also shifted into their feral forms- Ares going to help melt off their chains with the help of his fire breath. Should have bought heat-resistant chains. Amateurs. 

The humans towards the door seem to go into work mode then, one of them talking into what appears to be an earpiece- barking out orders and another one of the individuals takes out a gun filled with what appeared to be a high-dose of tranquilizer. 

“Ah– so this is how you lot want to go down, is it?” the night plague only sneers in response, circling. More shadows appear to slip into the room, and its gaze falls on its fellow night plague– though this one was not on its side. Vance narrows his eyes in response.

“And this one just hasn’t said a word– cat got your tongue? Domesticated dog,” it spits, snickering, tail lashing impatiently. 

Narrowing his eyes, Vance’s ears pin back in irritation.

Blue sparks crackling around his head, he readies himself, plasma breath ready to unload and he looks towards the others– who give him a nod. They were in this together, they had handled much worse than before. 

With that, he lets out a snarl– and he strikes.