#creativ

[coffeenuts]

[spr3xankles]

Craw fly for trout and smallmouth!

[ice-cap-k]

Assassin Games

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Assassin Games

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“Eyes on the target.”

“Can you take the shot, dear?”

“Give me a moment.”

Etho shifted. The spruce branch bobbed beneath him gently. It gave off no more movement than you’d see in a stiff breeze. A grey-green cloak was just visible through the screen of pine needles. It fluttered in the slight wind. The hood slipped from over the ears of the man it covered. 

He was standing at the very edge of the nearby roof with his back to Etho.

Etho almost quirked a smile under his mask. Iskall sure was making it easy for him.

The Swede wasn’t even bothering to lower his voice as he spoke into the communicator strapped to his arm. He must be feeling pretty confident to take such a risk. When he turned, the glint of sunlight off a green glass eyepiece nearly blinded Etho for a second. He blinked away the spot floating across his vision as the other man continued. “I’ve got a clear shot. Has the payment been confirmed?”

“Confirmed. Take it.”

Click!

Etho rolled onto the balls of his feet in anticipation. He didn’t have to see to know that the man on the roof was setting the bolt on his arm-mounted crossbow as if it could even be called that. It was, admittedly, an impressive little device Etho had seen only a handful of times. It was compact, curved with the arm, and made for easy setting of a spring-powered projectile launcher. Projectiles that almost exclusively involved crossbow bolts with poison-dipped arrowheads. But Etho didn’t know of a better name for the gizmo, so ‘arm crossbow’ it was.  Etho had always run a little more old school, but after all these years he was still curious about how Iskall’s tech worked. Especially now that it seems to have gone through a recent upgrade. Maybe today was the day he would finally get the chance to have a first-hand look? The thought sent a cold chill running down his spine.

Green flashed red. Iskall’s eyepiece had been activated. Etho knew that meant he had readied his aim. The little bit of tech was most likely gauging the distance, wind speed, and latent speed of the target, should it be moving. That little bit of red was Etho’s personal green light. As soon as he saw it, he leaped from his branch. 

For a second, he was weightless. Caught in a glorious free fall past bricks, iron bars, and branches. One gloved hand caught the bottom bar of a fire escape railing. The momentum of his body sent him swinging down. The jolt was rough on his wrist, but he twisted with his palm to let the motion send him swinging back up. With the snap of his elbow, he let go of the railing and launched himself up to the landing above. His feet made contact with the perforated steel platform at the same time Iskall’s arrow fired.

Thwip!

Thud!

Etho had landed steadily on both feet but waited to make a move after he landed, practically holding his breath as he listened for the man above him. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. His hand reflexively went to the kunai at his belt. Has Iskall heard him? 

There was a tiny beep as the Swede hit a button on his communicator. “Target eliminated.” 

“Good. Get the proof and get back here. Then we’ll give you your next assignment, luv.” 

“Copy that.”

All the tension left Etho’s shoulders. He had timed his landing perfectly to not be heard over the sound of the arrow’s fire. Iskall hadn’t heard him. Etho still had the element of surprise. So he made his way up the last few flights of stairs, footsteps feather-light. 

When he reached the top, he pulled a small mirror from his pocket to check over the ledge of the roof. The other man still had his back to Etho. The reversed image of him in the reflection was hunched over a large case. Inside were wicked-looking arrowheads, blades, and various other odds and ends Etho couldn’t quite make out from this angle, but he was sure that the case must have held most of the man’s arsenal. Fortunately, Iskall didn’t know Etho was there. He was confident he could walk up behind the man without being noticed. Unfortunately, most of the Swede’s weapons were well within arm’s reach. 

Etho fidgeted with the pommel of his kunai. His thumb ran along the edges of the leather wrapping its hilt. There was another option. One that he had considered since he first took this assignment. It was even riskier than simply acting now while Iskall’s back was turned. Much more difficult too, but honestly, he felt he owed it to the other man.

Etho let out a soft sigh. He let his right hand drop away from the blade at his belt. The mirror went back to his pocket. Really, he wasn’t sure why he was kidding himself. He might be good at stealth, but he had no desire to sneak up on the other man. Might as well do this the more interesting way. 

“Hey there, Iskall!” He called in his cheeriest voice.

There was a loud clatter from the other side of the roof as the other man fumbled in surprise. Etho almost laughed as he heard the telltale click of the arm crossbow. Thank goodness he hadn’t poked his head out. “Who’s there,” the familiar voice demanded.

Etho dared to raise one hand over the ledge of the roof. He bared his empty palm for the Swede to see. “Aw, Iskall. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten me, eh buddy?” 

“Etho…?” 

“Hey.”

Footsteps clattered across the concrete. Warm fingers wrapped around Etho’s hand. He let Iskall reach down to help him up. The other man kept a firm grip on his arm as Etho leaped from the edge of the fire escape. “Appreciated,” he said as he landed thighs-first on the ledge of the roof.

Iskall was all smiles as Etho brushed himself off and stood up. He hadn’t changed much since Etho last saw him. His beard might be a little longer, his hair a little shorter, but his eyes and smile were just as bright. Then there were telltale signs of his latest job in progress. The little ticks most people wouldn’t notice. But nothing in this business got past Etho’s eye. He recognized the shaking hands at Iskall’s side. The elevated volume and thickening accent as his ears were surely pounding with the sound of his own heartbeat. The deeper breathing as he came down from the adrenaline high of a fresh kill. Still, despite all the things Iskall must be feeling, he was surprisingly composed. “Good to see you, man! It’s been a while.”  

“I know. I know. Time sure flies when they keep you busy.”

“Hey,” Iskall says with a laugh. “I hear through the grapevine that you’ve been pretty busy yourself. Those BEST guys must be leaning on you pretty heavily. Don’t let them make a crutch out of you.”

Etho shrugged. The other man wasn’t wrong. Iskall was hard to get ahold of. That goes without saying even under normal circumstances, but lately he’s been away on assignment more and more. Picking up the slack for Etho’s absence. But this is a cutthroat world, and the BEST organization valued Etho’s skills enough to keep him constantly on the move as well. Between the two of them, there hadn’t been much time to catch up since Etho left.  “It’s a living.”

“And working with the Hermits wasn’t?” Iskall laughed. “You should come back to us. You know they’ll pay you more than that silly little business can.” The green glass on his eyepiece flickered, activating at the sound of the company’s name. He tapped some unseen button on the side of it, and the glass became clear once more. 

“That looks new,” Etho nodded at the bit of tech, steering the conversation away from work. 

“It is! Just got an upgrade from X last week. It’s got an improved targeting system.” He patted Etho’s forearm with the back of his hand. “Check it out. I just hit a mark with it.” 

Etho’s eyes followed the point of Iskall’s finger. Directly in front of the building was a semi-truck parked alongside the four-lane road. Then beyond that was a high-rise apartment building. A single window on the floor lower than them had a newly shattered window. He could make out a silhouette slumped against the wall on the opposite end of whatever room he was looking into. He whistled at the sight. “No way! Through a window?”

“Through a window,” Iskall beamed. “Reflective surfaces ain't got nothing on this.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Why thank you. We could get you one of your own after you come back to work with the Hermits. Heh? Heh?!” Iskall tried to elbow him in the ribs, but he deftly sidestepped, just barely out of reach. The arm only brushed against the fabric of his jacket. 

Etho doesn’t look at him. Instead, he quirked a brow. “How much practice have you been getting with that thing?”

Iskall frowned. “Not much, admittedly. This is my first assignment with it, but it isn’t my first time with targeting software like this. I picked it up pretty quickly.” 

“Cool.”

Iskall tried one more time. “Do they have any cool stuff for you to try at BEST? I’m sure X could get you something more to your taste.”

“You must have souped up your weapon too if it made it that far.”

“Etho-”

“Hm..?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Iskall said sternly. “You’re deflecting.”

He absolutely is. “I’m just trying to catch up with you,” he says, reaching back to scratch at the nape of his neck. 

Iskall sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He opened his mouth to say something, and Etho turned to face him. To really look at him. The sudden eye contact seemed to catch Iskall off guard. His mouth opened and shut before he eventually let out a little laugh. “You know, you can’t blame me for trying to get you to come back. We might not have worked together all the time, but we were good at what we did. Both of us were a force to be reckoned with. The best assassins money can buy.” 

“Looks like you’re doing alright on your own.” Etho tilted his head towards the broken window across the street. “Looks like you can hold your own.”

The other man’s lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “I suppose so. But what about you? Are you really happy where you’re at? And don’t deflect this time.”

The truth was, Etho WAS happy. He didn’t regret joining BEST. He had good friends there, a new home base, free reign with weapons and defense design, and a say on planning and future business endeavors. It helped that there were fewer people involved. It felt more like a group of close-knit friends that depended on making things work. It felt more personal. Sure, there wasn’t as much money to go around, but there were fewer voices trying to tell him what to do. 

It gave him a sense of freedom. Of belonging. More so than the Hermit Conglomerate ever had. The Hermits only ever put him in a box. He was good at stealth. Better than Iskall, even when the Swede tried. And that was all the company would let him do. At least officially. Xisuma was always tinkering with something, and he would let Etho in on projects from time to time. Now he was letting Iskall test out his latest and greatest instead. By leaving the Hermits, Etho had nothing to lose and everything to gain. They hadn’t even tried to barter for him to stay. They had Iskall to pick up his assignments instead. The fact that the Swede was the only one who seemed to want him to come back reaffirmed that Etho had made the right choice back then. It also made his current assignment that much harder.

Of course, Etho didn’t say any of this as it crossed his mind. Instead, he just nodded. “Yeah. I am.” 

The other man’s shoulders sagged a little in disappointment. His voice managed to maintain a bit of cheer, though. “Good. At least things are going well for you. Do they still have you working on the same kind of assignments?”

“Something like that,” Etho said, shifting from one foot to another. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, letting the fingers of his right-hand drape over the handle of his kunai. 

“Oooh! Are you working on a mark right now?”

“Yeah.” 

“Who’s the mark?”

Etho tensed up. “Funny story, actually… I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“What? I didn’t just accidentally steal your kill, did I?”

“No! No, not that. It’s just, you know Iskall. You’re a good friend.” Etho tried to casually pat the other man on the back of the shoulder, but couldn’t shake the stiffness in his own shoulders. The motion felt more wooden or robotic. “So, I just wanted to be honest with you. You know?”

“If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re trying to let me down easy,” Iskall said with a grin and a shake of his head. 

“I mean, kind of.” Iskall quirked one eyebrow. He waited patiently for Etho to provide some sort of explanation. But Etho wasn’t sure he had a good one to provide. This wasn’t going the way Etho had hoped. He was screwing it up. It felt like he was grasping at straws, mouth opening and closing as he tried to start somewhere. Hopefully, the mask covering the bottom half of his face made his struggle less obvious. 

“Ok. Do you remember back when we were training together? How we would make a game out of it?”

“Yeah. Like Tag with high stakes,” Iskall shrugged. “I’d be the hit, you’d try to catch me. You’d be the hit, I’d try to catch you.”

“Exactly.” 

It was a gross oversimplification, but they both knew the details left unsaid under those words. A bloody business like theirs meant going up against some pretty dangerous targets. Targets that fought back, or worse, if you missed the first shot. While they had strictly used non-lethal weapons when the cat-and-mouse chase was only between the two of them, there had been plenty of nights spent bloody and bruised at the hand of the other. 

“What about it?”

“Well, I guess I came for one more game-”

At that moment, the communicator on Iskall’s wrist beeped to life. The familiar sound of Stress’s voice on the other end of the line crackled through the speaker. “Iskall! Have you left yet? We just got word a BEST operative is near your location. Intel shows they recently put a hit out on you. We need you to get to safety, luv.”

The communicator buzzed once and fell silent. The line was still open, waiting for Iskall’s response. The Swede stood frozen, looking at Etho with eyes that were gradually beginning to widen with realization. 

“Oh snappers…” Etho didn’t dare make a move. He was suddenly aware of the press of his feet against the roof, the case of Iskall’s weapons on the other side of the building, and the Kunai beneath his fingers. “Iskall…” he started tentatively, only to cut himself off when the other man ripped his shoulder out from under his hand and brought an arm up in a show of aggression. The open barrel of his arm-crossbow was aimed directly at the center of Etho’s chest. 

“Am I your mark,” Iskall demanded. 

Etho gulped. “Iskall, I just wanted to-”

“No DIVERTING, Etho!” The green eyepiece flashed red as the other man’s targeting system came online. His knuckles faded to white as the hand holding the arm-crossbow curled into a tight fist. The weapon bobbed threateningly closer. The shake of fading adrenaline in his veins was slowing, Etho noted, and he knew from experience that Iskall was slipping back into that heightened sense a hunter felt the moment his sight fell on the vitals of a target. That moment when time was starting to slow with a rush of adrenaline, the sound faded out, and you’re left waiting for the perfect alignment to fall into place before you pull the trigger. At this distance, there would be no missing. “Not this time,” Iskall continued. “Am. I. Your. Mark,” Iskall hissed, punctuating each word with a bob of his weapon.

“Sorry buddy.” Running more on instinct than a conscious desire to protect himself, Etho had his kunai out before Iskall could pull the trigger.  Clang! The head of the crossbow bolt hit the thick edge of his blade. The shock sent vibrations up his fingers and palm as shards of steel from the broken arrowhead peppered the fabric of his glove. 

Etho stumbled back. He glanced over his hand to make sure the arrowhead hadn’t pierced skin. His brain barely managed to register that he didn’t see any blood when Iskall whirled in a flurry of his grey-green cape, bolting towards the weapons case at the other end of the roof. 

Etho couldn’t let him get to that case. Both hands went to his belt. Fingers brushed against steel, letting a handful of knives fly as he leaped after the Swede. A few managed to tear through the edges of Iskall’s cape, and one pinned the hood against the wood railing along the building’s ledge. The fabric around Iskall’s neck tightened as he continued hurtling forward. With a wretched gagging sound, he stumbled. The sudden yank on the cape caused the knife to dislodge, freeing the man, but by then it had given Etho the opening he needed. He leaped ahead of Iskall as his old friend was just regaining his composure and pace. 

Click!

Fwip!

Another arrow bounced off the concrete dangerously close to Etho’s heel. He could hear Iskall’s feet pounding against the roof behind him. He was gaining. So Etho pivoted on his heel midstep. Iskall looked surprised to be face-to-face with Etho. He was winding up the spring trigger on his arm as he ran. As far as Etho could make out, that was the only weapon the Swede had on him at the moment. That was the biggest threat. He couldn't make out how many arrows Iskall had left. Knowing him, he had spare caches stowed away in every pocket and under every fold of fabric. The eyepiece was online as well. The green glass was flashing an angry red as it searched out Etho’s vitals. 

Priority number one was the crossbow. If Etho could find a way to damage that, he would be out of immediate mortal danger. The second priority was the bag. He couldn’t let Iskall get to it unless he wanted to risk becoming a living pincushion. Priority number three was the eyepiece itself. If he could get that out of the picture, Iskall would have a significantly harder time hitting him while they were on the move. The final priority was Iskall himself. Etho still bore the scars of old training sessions where Iskall had managed to hold his own after being disarmed. Usually with an improvised weapon. Sometimes with his bare hands. Desperate targets would do anything, aim for any vital point if it meant protecting themselves. 

But Etho had given Iskall just as many scars in return over the years. Possibly more.

The distance between the two men barrelling towards the other side of the roof remained steady with Iskall chasing after a backstepping Etho. He swiped out with his kunai at Iskall’s neck as he backpedaled; one foot over the other, behind the other in a rhythm that came to him as easily as walking forward. The very tip of the blade skirted the clasp of the green-grey cape at Iskall's throat. There was the gentle tug of something resisting the knife edge, only for the fabric to split cleanly along the line of Etho’s swing. The cape fell away as Iskall’s eyepiece settled into a solid red glare. Etho heard the familiar click of another bolt sliding into place. 

Etho didn’t trip. He didn’t stumble or fall. He let himself drop. He simply let his knees buckle beneath him mid-step. Let himself crumple backward to the concrete beneath his feet. A rush of air parted the hair poking up from his bandanna as the arrow whizzed by a little too close for comfort. Pain bloomed in one hip as it hit the roof, but the fall was measured. It wouldn’t leave more than a slight bruise, especially since he allowed his momentum to send him rolling in a backward somersault that ended with him landing in a crouch, kunai at the ready. 

There wasn’t enough time for Iskall to stop before he hit Etho head-on. Etho had one arm up, shoulder hunched as he felt Iskall’s shins and knees impact his side. The edge of the kunai in his hand dragged against the denim of the other man’s jeans, catching the back of Iskall’s calf as the Swede went tumbling head over tail.

But Etho didn’t stop there. Before Iskall could hit the ground, Etho heaved upwards with his legs while the other man was still sliding off his back. It changed the direction of Iskall’s fall, pushing him over the edge of the roof with a scream. 

“AAAAaaaaAAaAaaaaaaahhh-” WHUMP!

Riiiiiiiiip!

Thunk-a-tunk-a-tunk-a-tunk!

Well, priority two was taken care of. There was no way Iskall was getting at his spare weapons now. So much for the order of priority.

Etho stood with a groan. He rolled his shoulders, already annoyed by the number of bruises he was accumulating. The edge of his kunai was dripping with blood. The gouge on Iskall’s leg probably went deeper than Etho had originally planned. Too bad. It would slow down his friend, but not stop him. 

Considering how trigger-happy Iskall had been a moment ago, Etho didn’t feel like risking a peak over the edge of the roof this time around. So instead he fished out the little mirror in his pocket once more. It was small, but it was enough for Etho to scan the street below. He tilted and twisted it, checking the reflection for any sign of the other man. 

The street below was empty at the moment, but there were already people in the floors below poking their heads out. Men and women on the bottom floor filtered outside, looking for the source of whatever screaming they had heard. But none of those people were Iskall. It took Etho a moment to notice the jagged edges of a tarp start to flutter out from the top of the semi-truck below. The once solid canvas now had a large hole punched through the center. Inside were cardboard boxes. Many of the brown boxes were crushed and bent at the center. Considering the neat stacks of boxes closer to the wall of the cargo hold, Iskall must have knocked over everything in the center when he fell through the cover. 

Etho knew that Iskall was still in there. He didn’t like that he didn’t have eyes on the other man. At first, he thought to wait the other man out. Iskall would have to leave cover eventually, but Etho wasn’t feeling very patient right now. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears. Two parts giddy excitement, one part guilt, and one part adrenaline was already numbing the protest of bruises that were surely already starting to darken on his skin. He waited long enough for the onlookers to give up looking for whatever they thought they heard before returning the mirror to his pocket. The kunai quickly replaced it. He leaped up onto the railing lining the edge of the roof and stepped out into the empty sky. The wind rushed up to meet him as he plummeted down a good four stories. The fall sent his stomach up into his throat. The wind in his ears did nothing to drown the rush of his heartbeat. He landed feet first on top of the semi, balancing on the edge of the wall overlooking the boxes within. 

“You hiding in there, man,” he teased, swinging the kunai around his finger by the ring at the end of the pommel. 

Something pressed against his ankle. Etho looked down in time to see a hand reach from beneath a pile of boxes and yank his leg out from under him. He managed a startled yelp before falling in, knocking his elbow painfully against the edge of the wall on the way down. The kunai flew from his hand and he lost track of where it went during the fall. 

Some of the boxes gave way easily beneath him. Their cardboard edges crumpled under his weight, but still dug uncomfortably into his back and sides. Iskall had managed to drag him down until they were at about the same level. Etho was still struggling to get his bearings when a fist connected with his temple. It sent his vision spinning in a swirl of pain, his skull bouncing off the wall of the truck from the force of the hit. It left him stunned. Another hit sent pain blossoming across his face as it landed somewhere between his nose and his cheek. It made his teeth rattle, and he was becoming aware of his mask growing sticky and warm against his chin and lips. 

He could still make out Iskall through his blurry vision, though just barely. At some point during the fall, Iskall must have lost his eyepiece, because he could fully make out both of the Swede’s eyes without having to look through translucent green or flashing red glass. Priority three was out of the way then. There was a stern seriousness in the set of Iskall’s jaw, a calculating look in his eyes, and the smallest inkling of a smile on his face. Etho might have just been imagining that, though. Head trauma made reality a bit harder to parse out. 

All he could do was lamely throw his arms up in defense for a moment as Iskall tried to get another good punch in. They only managed to hit the back of Etho’s forearms. It was better than taking another hit to the head, but Iskall had power behind those hits and Etho’s arms were beginning to shake under the pressure.

He managed to blink away the worst of the dark spots spiraling past his eyes, focusing long enough to let the tunnel vision set it. The next time Iskall went in for a hit, Etho twisted along with the punch, letting his friend’s fist glance off his forearm to pound into the metal wall of the truck. He howled with pain, but that hesitation was all Etho needed to kick out at Iskall’s shin. His heel made contact, and he felt the other man’s leg give in. It wasn’t enough to knock him over, but it was enough to make him stumble. Iskall wobbled. He knocked over stacks of boxes that rained down on top of him. They fell between Etho and him, which perfectly broke the line of sight. 

Now Etho was in the zone. He was back in the comfortable tunnel vision brought on by the spike of adrenaline and the necessity of a fight. He felt hyper-aware of everything around him. There was no fancy tech. Every box. Every little movement Iskall made. He felt like he could anticipate it all. It was an all too human sense and he knew it well. They both did. But this time it was his turn to go on the attack. One hand went to the wet mask that pressed uncomfortably against his face. It was getting hard to breathe with it on, and as he pulled it down, he noticed that his glove came away slick and red. He wasn’t sure if the blood was coming from his throbbing lip or stinging nose, and he didn’t have time to figure that out right now. His other hand went to one of the remaining throwing knives at his belt. The knife balanced at the edges of his fingertips felt like a trigger on the verge of being pulled.

Iskall tried to lunge for him, but he couldn’t see Etho like Etho could see him. When he reached through the mound of boxes, Etho lashed out with the knife. Iskall yanked his hand back with a cry as the blade left a shallow cut across the back of his hand. 

Etho was ready to cut him again if the man tried a second time, but Iskall knew him. Knew him well enough to switch tactics instead of using brute forcing. Instead, the Swede picked up the nearest box separating the two of them and flung it at Etho as hard as he could. Etho threw his arm out, catching the corner of the box with his free hand to knock it away. The other hand brandished the knife for the attack he knew was coming, only to find it buried to the hilt in another box Iskall was shoving at him like a shield. And Iskall kept shoving, not giving the much-needed inch Etho could use to free his knife. 

With a cry of triumph, Iskall managed to bowl him over. He fell back against the boxes, but Iskall kept pushing. Etho’s boots scrabbled uselessly against the floor as they slid. The rubber soles couldn’t catch on anything but boxes, and those were falling away from the two of them with every movement. At one point, Iskall let go of the box that had Etho’s knife pinned and went straight for Etho’s neck. He tried to wrap both hands around, but Etho abandoned the knife and managed to grab one of his friend’s wrists. He couldn’t stop Iskall completely, though. His other hand was pinned under the two of them after they tumbled to a stop. Iskall’s grip was uncomfortably tight on his windpipe so he risked trying to overpower the Swede. To push up with his pinned elbow to headbutt Iskall, or at least get his grip on his neck to loosen, but it wasn’t enough. Iskall simply retaliated by slamming his hand down harder into the base of Etho’s neck. It bashed the back of his skull against another box, which wasn’t as bad as the metal wall of the truck but still hurt like hell. For a moment, Etho couldn’t get any air in or out.

Iskall did have him pretty well pinned. He only had use of one hand, and that was currently preoccupied with trying to keep Iskall’s free hand from crushing his windpipe twice as fast. But his legs were still free. With a desperate lurch, Etho threw his knee up. Iskall let out a satisfying wheeze as Etho’s leg slammed into his stomach. The hand around his throat fell away. 

Iskall made a desperate ploy to scramble away while he struggled to regain his breath, but Etho wasn’t about to let him go that easily. He yanked his knife out from the box at his side and took another swipe. Blood painted the blade and a line of boxes as he opened up another shallow cut across Iskall’s shoulder and back. He would have gone for another, but Iskall blocked it with the back of his forearm. The forearm with the crossbow. Etho hissed in pain, the knife dropping from his hand. He had heard something in his hand crack. Or maybe it was the crossbow that had broken. Probably both, considering the white-hot pain flaring up his arm and the little broken string now hanging from the crossbow. At least the bolt Iskall had docked in the weapon had fallen out.

Priority one was out of the way. Finally. That just left Iskall himself. 

Which made things sound so much easier than they actually were. As soon as Etho realized the crossbow was busted, Iskall launched himself at Etho with a roar. All tact was thrown out the window as he full-body slammed into the other man. They went tumbling out the back of the truck with an avalanche of boxes. Etho kept both arms wrapped around Iskall’s as they tumbled. He wasn’t about to let the other man try another choking attempt, even if the act of holding onto Iskall with his bad hand sent shocks of pain up his arm. But it also left him vulnerable when they hit the edge of the truck. Correction, when he hit the edge of the truck. Etho took the full brunt of their fall when his ribs hit the corner of the truck bed. All the air left his lungs. His mind went blank for a second as his body processed an even greater pain that by far overshadowed whatever he was feeling in his broken hand or bloody face. 

He was fairly certain he had broken a rib. So it came as a big surprise he had managed to hold onto Iskall. It came as an even bigger surprise that he had the sense of mind to shift as they fell so Iskall would hit the asphalt first and act as a cushion for Etho. He heard a “whoomph” as air rushed out of Iskall’s lungs a second time. He had half a mind to try to knock Iskall’s lights out while he had a chance. He risked going for a punch with his good hand, but that meant having to keep Iskall pinned with the broken one, which was painful enough that he immediately decided that it wouldn’t be worth a second punch. He only tried it once, managing a left hook to the cheek. But it wasn’t his dominant hand, and the blow didn’t have the power to do much more than snap Iskall’s head to the side. It probably wouldn’t even bruise right away. So instead Etho brought his hand back down to keep Iskall pinned as they both stopped to catch their breath.

It felt good to take a moment to just breathe. Iskall seemed just as tired as Etho felt, and it hadn’t even taken a chase across half the city to get to this point as it had in previous training sessions between the two of them. The moment of calm was both a blessing and a curse, though. Etho could feel himself coming down from the adrenaline rush. The pain was losing its muted quality. His hands were starting to shake where they held Iskall’s wrists against the road where a small puddle of blood was beginning to pool under his shoulder.

Iskall was the first to speak. “Must be getting old if we’re already this tired. This almost feels like one of our old games,” he said. A real smile spread across his face.

Nodding doesn’t seem to be in Etho’s wheelhouse right now. Just the thought of moving his head back and forth is making him queasy, and he wonders if one of those hits to the head gave him a concussion. So instead he lets out a little, “Mmmhmm,” to hum his agreement. 

“Well, no game is complete without a chase.” Etho braces for the hit well before the bottom of Iskall’s boots crashes into his chest. He’s already released Iskall’s wrists and rolled into his shoulder as the kick hits. Iskall only managed a glancing blow, but it was enough to send another shock of pain down Etho’s side as he somersaulted out of reach. Etho’s quick enough to land on his feet in a crouch. His free hand braces against the ground to keep him steady as he looks up to face Iskall, who is already back up on his feet. But before Etho can think of a strategy to attack or defend, the other man turns on his heel and runs.

It’s a broken run. A desperate run. The kind of limp a man manages when there is no time to risk being slow. The fabric of his jeans is dyed red from his ankle up to his calf where Etho’s kunai had cut deep. Streaks of red paint uneven stripes down the back of his shirt.

That was it. The game wasn’t over, but they were both finished. There was no way Etho was going after him now, even if deep down he thought he could catch Iskall if he tried. Nobody had been knocked out or fully incapacitated. Nobody had won. Etho sure felt like a loser, though. His good hand began to shake again and lowered himself to the ground. Sitting wasn’t enough, so with a groan he painfully slid down to lay on the side of the road. He needed a moment before he could even think about getting back up again.

He reached over with his good hand and pressed the button on his own communicator strapped safely to his wrist on the other arm. The screen flashed to life, illuminating the bloody fingerprint he had left on the button beneath it. Coordinates flashed white, pinging his location to the rest of his team. Almost immediately a call came in through the speaker. They must have been watching for him.

“Hiya buddy,” Skizz’s upbeat voice buzzed out of the speaker. “How’d it go?”

Before he answered, he tested his jaw. The joint clicked uncomfortably when he wiggled it. That was concerning, but the motion didn’t send bolts of pain through his skull. It mostly just felt sore now. He took that as a sign that it probably wasn’t broken. “About as well as I expected, honestly…”

“Ooooh! Good! That’s good, right? You had fun?”

The act of smiling made his face hurt. It dropped off his face almost as quickly as it appeared. It wasn’t like Skizz could see the look on his face anyway. “Sure. I think Iskall enjoyed himself too, once he got past the mortal terror. You didn’t actually put a hit out on him, did you?”

“What!? No! Yes! I mean no! Pffft, I’m just yanking your chain, buddy. Of course we didn’t. We could have, though. Did you want us to?”

Etho couldn’t help but laugh, but immediately regretted it. The slightest shake of his chest made his ribs ache. A flash of pain lit up his right side. It became a little bit harder to breathe. Yup. At least one of those ribs had to be broken. “Please don’t,” he managed to breathe out, and he was surprised the words didn’t come out sounding more like a whimper. 

“Whatever you say Etho. Naw, we didn’t put anything out on him. Top just fed those Hermits some false rumors disguised as internal orders. They actually thought they could bug us and we wouldn’t notice.” 

The speaker crackled as Skizz broke out into a fit of giggles. It almost drowned out the much quieter voice of Tango in the distance saying, “says the guy who didn’t notice.”

“Hey!” Skizz snapped so loud that the communicator's speaker cut out halfway through. “Anyway,” he continued, volume dropping back to a still booming but now more typical level for Skizz. “You said you wanted to see what would happen if you two went full out. And you keep saying he’d never give it one hundred percent when it’s just the two of you. Figured you both could cut loose and give it your all if he thought it was for real.”

“I think it might have worked a little too well,” Etho said, trying to suppress a groan. “Better get that rumor cleared up before they put a hit out on me in retaliation.”

“Can do, buddy. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Could one of you come to pick me up? And bring the first aid kit, please.”

[foolfortune]

current mantra

[sourdough-seal]

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

[hayatheauthor]

10 Non-Lethal Injuries to Add Pain to Your Writing

New Part: 10 Lethal Injury Ideas

If you need a simple way to make your characters feel pain, here are some ideas: 

1. Sprained Ankle

A common injury that can severely limit mobility. This is useful because your characters will have to experience a mild struggle and adapt their plans to their new lack of mobiliy. Perfect to add tension to a chase scene.

2. Rib Contusion

A painful bruise on the ribs can make breathing difficult, helping you sneak in those ragged wheezes during a fight scene. Could also be used for something sport-related! It's impactful enough to leave a lingering pain but not enough to hinder their overall movement.

3. Concussions

This common brain injury can lead to confusion, dizziness, and mood swings, affecting a character’s judgment heavily. It can also cause mild amnesia.

I enjoy using concussions when you need another character to subtly take over the fight/scene, it's an easy way to switch POVs. You could also use it if you need a 'cute' recovery moment with A and B.

4. Fractured Finger

A broken finger can complicate tasks that require fine motor skills. This would be perfect for characters like artists, writers, etc. Or, a fighter who brushes it off as nothing till they try to throw a punch and are hit with pain.

5. Road Rash

Road rash is an abrasion caused by friction. Aka scraping skin. The raw, painful sting resulting from a fall can be a quick but effective way to add pain to your writing. Tip: it's great if you need a mild injury for a child.

6. Shoulder Dislocation

This injury can be excruciating and often leads to an inability to use one arm, forcing characters to confront their limitations while adding urgency to their situation. Good for torture scenes.

7. Deep Laceration

A deep laceration is a cut that requires stitches. As someone who got stitches as a kid, they really aren't that bad! A 2-3 inch wound (in length) provides just enough pain and blood to add that dramatic flair to your writing while not severely deterring your character.

This is also a great wound to look back on since it often scars. Note: the deeper and wider the cut the worse your character's condition. Don't give them a 5 inch deep gash and call that mild.

8. Burns

Whether from fire, chemicals, or hot surfaces, burns can cause intense suffering and lingering trauma. Like the previous injury, the lasting physical and emotional trauma of a burn is a great wound for characters to look back on.

If you want to explore writing burns, read here.

9. Pulled Muscle

This can create ongoing pain and restrict movement, offering a window to force your character to lean on another. Note: I personally use muscle related injuries when I want to focus more on the pain and sprains to focus on a lack of mobility.

10. Tendonitis

Inflammation of a tendon can cause chronic pain and limit a character's ability to perform tasks they usually take for granted. When exploring tendonitis make sure you research well as this can easily turn into a more severe injury.

This is a quick, brief list of ideas to provide writers inspiration. Since it is a shorter blog, I have not covered the injuries in detail. This is inspiration, not a thorough guide. Happy writing! :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[prompt-heaven]

a list of 100+ buildings to put in your fantasy town

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

dentist

distillery

docks

dovecot

dyer

embassy

farmer's market

fighting pit

fishmonger

fortune teller

gallows

gatehouse

general store

graveyard

greenhouses

guard post

guildhall

gymnasium

haberdashery

haunted house

hedge maze

herbalist

hospice

hospital

house for sale

inn

jail

jeweller

kindergarten

leatherworker

library

locksmith

mail courier

manor house

market

mayor's house

monastery

morgue

museum

music shop

observatory

orchard

orphanage

outhouse

paper maker

pawnshop

pet shop

potion shop

potter

printmaker

quest board

residence

restricted zone

sawmill

school

scribe

sewer entrance

sheriff's office

shrine

silversmith

spa

speakeasy

spice merchant

sports stadium

stables

street market

tailor

tannery

tavern

tax collector

tea house

temple

textile shop

theatre

thieves guild

thrift store

tinker's workshop

town crier post

town square

townhall

toy store

trinket shop

warehouse

watchtower

water mill

weaver

well

windmill

wishing well

wizard tower

[fipindustries]

>be me, massive egg

>kind of a 6/10, mid looking, glasses, nerdy clothes, scruffy beard, baggy eyes

>have a type that i have to hots for

>gothy wth bangs, slightly chubby

>egg cracks, transition, dye my hair, change my fashion style, gain weight do to eating healthier

>mfw i became my type

>always was a little bi but now with hormones i start developing more of an attraction for men

>find out i like nerdy, scruffy guys with glasses and baggy eyes

>mfw past me is now my type

>wtf

[starbuck]

“…to me” is one of the most powerful disclaimers we have on here… is this character analysis accurate? debatable. but it’s real… to me.

[ur-daily-inspiration]

Cute cakes appreciation post

[coffeenuts]

[soul-from-another-era]

Unconditional love isn't a free pass to hurt me.

[aurinavenir]

Writers should NOT feel guilty about:

Skipping a day of writing.

Not having a perfect first draft.

Partaking in sinister, arcane rituals for inspiration.

Working at their own pace.

Enlisting demons and/or helpful spirits to aid them with editing.

[bethfuller]

limited perception.

find me on instagram!

[charbroiledchicken]

"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.