be my safety {{sadik&mihai

[Mihai C. Eliade]

Mihai slumped back against the wall, breathing ragged and broken. He could feel every centimeter of himself—each nerve singing with pain. There was nothing to do but to try and keep as still as possible, to not irritate the wounds any further as they slowly knitted themselves back together. At least, it didn't seem like the guards would be bothering with him anytime soon. He could only hear their steps, their spitted insults, as they led the other mutant away, leaving him alone on the cold floors of the Underground. He wondered how long it would be before one of them came along to tell him to move it, that he was unsightly for their human patrons. How he should get away and where he would go to were irrelevant questions to them—the moment they had spotted his tags and marked him a mutant, all interest faded but for getting his aggressive opponent back in his cell.

And what was he to do? Not that he wanted to be elsewhere—that would involve movement, and movement was a thing right now that sent fire shooting through his veins. It was all he could do to keep himself upright (to not fall to the ground and humiliate himself any further), his breathing ringing in his ears, feeling each drop of blood as it trailed down his skin. He knew he should get up, go lick his wounds someplace not so public, but he couldn't even muster the strength to stop shivering, didn't have the presence of mind to focus on anything but the painpainpain.

He supposed that his attacker would have relished in this, if he were still here. Bravado was just bravado, after all, and it all crumbled once his immediate tormentor was out of the way. At the moment, he couldn't care to think what the guards thought of him, couldn't care to wonder what the shadow manipulator had against him—surely that question would come later. For the moment, there was blessing in keeping his eyes closed, his mind blank to anything but the signals his body transmitted. Perhaps it would be better to think of something else, to distract himself, but the deep cuts left on his person proved too demanding of his attention. His shoulder, his knee, pinpricks on his neck (fuck, were his ribs broken? He couldn't tell; all the agony blended together into a bright redness that throbbed behind his eyelids).

"Time to get out of here." He heard the gruff voice somewhere to his left. So he had been wrong about them planning to leave him on his lonesome for much longer—he hadn't heard the guard approach, so enveloped was he in his temporary cocoon of silence and solitude. "Scram, you piece of shit." The demand was emphasized by a kick to his leg, sending a white-hot flash up the limb and into his hip.

A choked-off cry escaped his lips, and he shrank away from the man. He wasn't sure if he could so much as even hold himself up on his feet, but he hurried to obey anyway—if not, the man would be sure to use it as an excuse to do him further pain. Gritting his teeth and shoving thoughts of the aches in his body aside, he pushed himself onto his knees, then shakily onto his feet. Where am I supposed to go? lingered on the edges of his thoughts, but he could not afford to voice them. Nevermind that he would be told to figure it out himself, anyway. No one in the Underground cared for his well-being, though he thought they might be more receptive to the idea of sparing innocent civilians from the gruesome sight of a half-mangled body. But he didn't have the energy to make that argument now. It was taking everything he had in him to stay upright, even with a wall for support, and he wouldn't waste precious breath on this guard.

He managed a few slow steps, hand pressed against his injured shoulder. Blood flowed, red and warm, through his fingers, though it had lessened a great deal from before. Surely he was leaving a lovely crimson path behind himself; he would have taken some grim satisfaction from it, had it not been for the fact that it would probably be another poor mutant sent to clean up the mess, not one of their human keepers.

"Hurry up," came the annoyed mutter of the guard behind him, and before he could even try to obey, a second kick was delivered, striking him in the small of the back. He hit the ground on his hands and knees, biting his lip hard enough to break skin just to contain the scream. It was both of pain and frustration—how was he supposed to get anywhere if he wasn't allowed so much to stand without getting kicked down again? But no such retorts would earn him any reprieve from the other—all he could answer was a quiet "I'm sorry," and another attempt to get on his feet.

{{@ottomanempire. It's finally up!

[Deleted]

It wasn't usual for the Turk to visit these places. Usually, he didn't do business himself in these parts of the city, or heck, it wasn't often the lord himself went out of the way himself to deliver some of the things he sold. Unless it was someone very important, someone he knew himself, or maybe someone that needed to have their asses kicked in the right way to prove that no, Sadik Adnan was not someone you messed with or tried to fuck up business for.

So why was he here really?

For some kind of reason, there was some... Garbage.. That needed to be taken care of, and Sadik needed to be there to assure the job was done properly, even if he himself never touched said people, he just commanded, made sure it was being done properly, so no one came to tattle on him afterwards.. Humans were so annoying sometimes, even if they brought a great deal of pleasure, Sadik really did prefer animals most of the time. Honest and sincere, and they didn't fuck you over.

And as said 'job' had been done properly and correct, said person would not come to bother Sadik ever again. And if he by some coincidence did that.. Then Sadik would be running like hell from that place, since his body was.. Currently speaking with the fish that were on the bottom of a frozen lake, with a nice cement gift around his ankles, and the hole they did almost froze over right away as they 'dropped' said man into it. The only good thing about living in this fucking overfrozen hell, it was easy to get rid of evidence.

And since Sadik usually froze his ass off in this godforsaken country, he took every indoor way he could find in this place, being from Turkey and all were it was constantly warm, so the underground was nothing new to him. He had gotten along quite well with the people there, and not because he liked to buy and marvel at the mutants that were there, but mostly because he liked to visit, look at the games (in disgust), but it game him a good influence with people, and it made him seem 'social', along with people liking him as well. That means better business, more alibi's, everything in his favour. It was just one little problem.

He absolutely despised the fights.

And as he walked through the corridors, his footsteps barely echoing in the way the tall and muscular man moved, so used to his old days that he couldn't afford to many any noises, too afraid to get caught in something he didn't want to.

And yet he stopped when he heard noises, pressed himself against the wall and listened. The men, he guessed by the sound of how masculine and deep their voices were, correct him if he was wrong, and they did not sound happy, at all. It rather sounded like they were dealing with some kind of dirty trash, maybe a wasp that had stung them and he wanted them gone? Or some other horrible animal. Yet curiosity took over his interest too much, and he slowly peeked around the corner on the scene.

And it was not the sight he had been prepared for.

A human, that looked more or less dead than alive, at least judging by the blood on said person, and on the floor, and.. Were they guards? Kicking and treating said person like it was worth nothing. The only thing that came into his mind was 'mutant', and yet not in the bad kind of way as it apparently did for everyone else. No, the Turk got angry over how the fellow human was being treated by these men, who obviously was not hurt or damaged in any kind of way, not like the poor mutant that they obviously didn't care too much about.

Inhaling deeply as he turned around the corner, acting as casually as anyone else as he walked up to the unknowingly guard from behind, pondering about letting him know his face or just simply knock him out right away.. But giving away whom he was might come to bite him in the ass later, and not even his status could do much about it, not wanting to throw money on this place when it clearly didn't deserve more, financing anything like this was not on his thing. So as he walked soundlessly behind said guard, acting casually as he looked on the poor mutant on the floor, and then he had enough. So with enough force, he hit him on the side of the head, not too hard so he would die, but enough to see the body fall together and go limp on the ground, and the Turk rubbed his leather clad hands together so the dirt would get away from touching said guard.

"Fucking scumbag." Voice filled with bitterness as he pushed away the body with his foot, and went around instead to gently take the mutants arm to help him up, but it was also then he saw what kind of shape he was in. "Holy fuck!" He suddenly said and looked on all the blood, and just the look in the persons eyes told him just how much in pain and how bad shape he was in. "You are not walking more than that, poor thing, I'm taking you home, fuck staying in this place and fuck what people say." Not saying much about it, and instead bent down a bit to pick the person up, bridal-style, and looked down on him. "You okay with being carried like this?" As Sadik took a few testing steps to see if the person, mutant, male, female, bird or whatever the fuck it was in his arms was okay with how he moved. "Want me to go slower, faster? Change position so it's more comfortable for you?" Not wanting to bring more pain to him than he apparently appeared to be in. Sadik might be a dick, but only to people who deserved it.