02-09-2020, 11:34 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-09-2020, 11:51 PM by michael t..)
This was not the first time that Michael had broken a promise, and he had some very strong doubts that it would be the last time, either.
He could still remember the deal that he had made with the Lost, sneering in the gang leader's face at the proposition. Turn yourself over to us, and Trevor gets to go free. It had been a no brainer. After all, Michael had dragged that stupid fucking coyote into this whole mess, becoming friends with him and letting him embrace his wild and rage filled habits as they committed crime after crime. The two of them had been inseparable as they stole, killed, and trashed their way through everybody else, with Michael being the leader, and Trevor being his muscle. He didn't regret those days. Fuck, he loved those days, but that hadn't changed the fact that they had massive targets on their backs, and the only way for the one on Trevor's back to disappear was for Michael to disappear, entirely. The melanistic bobcat needed to be out of the picture, and he had made that decision for the both of them, letting Trevor believe he had been killed when really he had been taken from the lost, kidnapped and locked away.
At first it had been easy, spitting in the face of his captors and telling them to go fuck themselves while they tortured him, reminding him that he would soon be dead, all because he gave himself up. However, days began to give way to weeks, and weeks quickly gave way to months, and there was no end in sight to the pain. It seemed as though the Lost had decided he was more useful as a plaything than as dead. He had never intended to keep his part of the deal anyways, but he had hoped that he could hold out longer, if only for Trevor's sake. Knowing that idiot, he could still be pacing through the wilds, with some misguided hope that Michael was still alive and he could swoop in to save the day. While the first part of that statement was true, he really didn't want the coyote to get fucking killed trying to save his ass. Still, even as he tried to hold out just one day longer, he knew that he couldn't. He was at his breaking point, and he needed the hell out of here.
So, he had waited. He had waited until the guard to his little holding cell had shown up with breakfast – they were still feeding him, evidently finding it more fun to torture someone not dying of starvation – and found himself jittery and antsy with excitement. He watched as the guard opened the door and stepped inside, the spotted leopard grumbling about something that Michael didn't give a shit about. All he cared about was that the door was open, and suddenly he was flinging himself forwards, straight at the guard in front of him. The leopard had size and strength advantage, but Michael had the advantage of knowledge, and soon enough his fangs found sensitive muscle, digging in and watching as the guard went tense and froze, pain rippling through him. The bobcat didn't give the other even a moment to recover, his fangs going straight for jugular and aiming for vital blood vessels. It only took one firm chomp and he had a hold, digging harder and harder until eventually the guard ceased thrashing, and stopped slamming Michael's small body against the ground with each movement.
The world was spinning around Michael when he found his way out of the underground holding chamber, his legs weak and his head pounding. Every one of his wounds was itchy and bleeding and awful, but he knew he needed to move fast, before someone saw him. He had no idea where he was, having never really thought to look into where the Lost's base was established. After all, he didn't have the manpower to take them down, so why bother? All he knew was that the moon was high in the sky, and he needed to get away, so he took the risky way out. He just chose a direction and started moving, dragging his injured body along as he prayed he had gone the right way. He didn't have the medical knowledge alone to patch his wounds up, and he wouldn't survive much longer without someone's help. Anybody's help.
It felt like it had been months since he had started his trek out into a random direction from the Lost's camp, but in reality it had been only hours. It just felt so much longer, with bile rising in his throat and his every step jolting pain through his body. He was gripping tightly onto his bag of stuff, hastily grabbed before he had bolted, just so that he would have everything from the past he cherished so dearly. The sky of the desert was burning above him, and he was beginning to think that he was really going to die, even after his escape, when the sight of green on the horizon made his heart pick up. There were tall trees in the distance, marking the border between wet and cool jungle salvation and the desert hell he had been dragging himself through. He knew it was a mistake to do so, but he found himself speeding up, excited with the knowledge that he was so close to help, hopefully.
Eventually the bobcat reached the border, his nose immediately wrinkling at the stench that filled his nose. There were definitely people here, at the very least. He could only hope that they weren't one of the many groups of people who wanted his head on a platter. Gritting his teeth, Michael dragged himself beneath the shade of the trees, collapsing in a heap once the morning sun was no longer beating down upon him. He dropped his bag at his side, his body curling up as he nosed and sniffed at his own wounds, searching for some sign of infection. He sighed heavily as he began to drag his tongue over his mussed up fur, trying to keep the cuts littering his body clean so that they hopefully wouldn't become infected, or worse in some other way. He could hear the signs of life all around him from the trees, and he found himself looking around, calling out softly, "Hello? Anybody there who can fucking help me?" It wasn't the nicest greeting, but it got the point across. He pulled his legs in close after saying this, licking gently at the slightly balding spots on his legs where his fur had been chewed at, very glad that he was no longer pushing tender skin into the blazing hot sands.
( don't feel the need to match this!! Really only the last two paragraphs are vitally important, the ones before the line are just backstory )
He could still remember the deal that he had made with the Lost, sneering in the gang leader's face at the proposition. Turn yourself over to us, and Trevor gets to go free. It had been a no brainer. After all, Michael had dragged that stupid fucking coyote into this whole mess, becoming friends with him and letting him embrace his wild and rage filled habits as they committed crime after crime. The two of them had been inseparable as they stole, killed, and trashed their way through everybody else, with Michael being the leader, and Trevor being his muscle. He didn't regret those days. Fuck, he loved those days, but that hadn't changed the fact that they had massive targets on their backs, and the only way for the one on Trevor's back to disappear was for Michael to disappear, entirely. The melanistic bobcat needed to be out of the picture, and he had made that decision for the both of them, letting Trevor believe he had been killed when really he had been taken from the lost, kidnapped and locked away.
At first it had been easy, spitting in the face of his captors and telling them to go fuck themselves while they tortured him, reminding him that he would soon be dead, all because he gave himself up. However, days began to give way to weeks, and weeks quickly gave way to months, and there was no end in sight to the pain. It seemed as though the Lost had decided he was more useful as a plaything than as dead. He had never intended to keep his part of the deal anyways, but he had hoped that he could hold out longer, if only for Trevor's sake. Knowing that idiot, he could still be pacing through the wilds, with some misguided hope that Michael was still alive and he could swoop in to save the day. While the first part of that statement was true, he really didn't want the coyote to get fucking killed trying to save his ass. Still, even as he tried to hold out just one day longer, he knew that he couldn't. He was at his breaking point, and he needed the hell out of here.
So, he had waited. He had waited until the guard to his little holding cell had shown up with breakfast – they were still feeding him, evidently finding it more fun to torture someone not dying of starvation – and found himself jittery and antsy with excitement. He watched as the guard opened the door and stepped inside, the spotted leopard grumbling about something that Michael didn't give a shit about. All he cared about was that the door was open, and suddenly he was flinging himself forwards, straight at the guard in front of him. The leopard had size and strength advantage, but Michael had the advantage of knowledge, and soon enough his fangs found sensitive muscle, digging in and watching as the guard went tense and froze, pain rippling through him. The bobcat didn't give the other even a moment to recover, his fangs going straight for jugular and aiming for vital blood vessels. It only took one firm chomp and he had a hold, digging harder and harder until eventually the guard ceased thrashing, and stopped slamming Michael's small body against the ground with each movement.
The world was spinning around Michael when he found his way out of the underground holding chamber, his legs weak and his head pounding. Every one of his wounds was itchy and bleeding and awful, but he knew he needed to move fast, before someone saw him. He had no idea where he was, having never really thought to look into where the Lost's base was established. After all, he didn't have the manpower to take them down, so why bother? All he knew was that the moon was high in the sky, and he needed to get away, so he took the risky way out. He just chose a direction and started moving, dragging his injured body along as he prayed he had gone the right way. He didn't have the medical knowledge alone to patch his wounds up, and he wouldn't survive much longer without someone's help. Anybody's help.
It felt like it had been months since he had started his trek out into a random direction from the Lost's camp, but in reality it had been only hours. It just felt so much longer, with bile rising in his throat and his every step jolting pain through his body. He was gripping tightly onto his bag of stuff, hastily grabbed before he had bolted, just so that he would have everything from the past he cherished so dearly. The sky of the desert was burning above him, and he was beginning to think that he was really going to die, even after his escape, when the sight of green on the horizon made his heart pick up. There were tall trees in the distance, marking the border between wet and cool jungle salvation and the desert hell he had been dragging himself through. He knew it was a mistake to do so, but he found himself speeding up, excited with the knowledge that he was so close to help, hopefully.
Eventually the bobcat reached the border, his nose immediately wrinkling at the stench that filled his nose. There were definitely people here, at the very least. He could only hope that they weren't one of the many groups of people who wanted his head on a platter. Gritting his teeth, Michael dragged himself beneath the shade of the trees, collapsing in a heap once the morning sun was no longer beating down upon him. He dropped his bag at his side, his body curling up as he nosed and sniffed at his own wounds, searching for some sign of infection. He sighed heavily as he began to drag his tongue over his mussed up fur, trying to keep the cuts littering his body clean so that they hopefully wouldn't become infected, or worse in some other way. He could hear the signs of life all around him from the trees, and he found himself looking around, calling out softly, "Hello? Anybody there who can fucking help me?" It wasn't the nicest greeting, but it got the point across. He pulled his legs in close after saying this, licking gently at the slightly balding spots on his legs where his fur had been chewed at, very glad that he was no longer pushing tender skin into the blazing hot sands.
( don't feel the need to match this!! Really only the last two paragraphs are vitally important, the ones before the line are just backstory )
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]
— Reggan
![[Image: pPy3uSr.png?1]](https://i.imgur.com/pPy3uSr.png?1)
