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 Of Dog Bites and Mercenary Men

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Prentiss Proveaux

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Join date : 2013-10-08

PostSubject: Of Dog Bites and Mercenary Men   Mon Jan 06, 2014 3:59 pm

Sheet!" The cigarette filter was crushed between his teeth as he bolted back the way he had come. That damn alarm had supposed to have been handled, yet it was giving the war cry and alerting the world to his presence. He should have known he would not be able to trust someone else to help him, especially with a job as important as disabling the alarm.

Making his way back through the window, he jumped down onto the awaiting dirt, scrambling as the sound shots being fired met his ears. His shovel was all he had, and so he reached back and released it from its buckle on his back. Never had it failed him, and he hoped grimly that now would be no different.
The gate was only a short run away, but as he heard the urgent shouting of men as they approached, it seemed as though the gate was miles away. He would make it though, if he could just beat whoever it was coming to capture him.
He didn't feel his legs as they carried him, his grip on his shovel so tight his knuckles were turning white.
And then he heard it.
The feral snarl that could only come from one of the most wicked monsters of all.
Guard dogs.
Christophe turned his head, his heart jumping as he watched the three massive rottweilers barreling towards him. Pushing himself harder he made a lunge for the gate, one hand latching onto the wiry metal to pull his body up, and the other swinging back with his shovel to knock away the oncoming dogs.
Nothing.
He looked back just in time to see jaws clamp down around his calve. He didnt even have time to register that he had missed them when he swung before he was being drug down. He felt another pair of jaws latch onto his forearm, the shock causing him to drop his shovel.
As he heard his trusty companion hit the ground, he knew he was just f*cking done for, but still he held onto the fence with his other hand, until his fingers were cracked and bleeding and his fingernails had been ripped away with the force the dogs used to bring him down.
The moment he hit the dirt the animals were upon him. He couldnt understand what was happening, pain was everywhere, the dogs were everywhere. They were so loud, so ferocious as they slung their heads around, further ripping his flesh.
Had never wished for death as he did in these moments, for how merciful it would have been.
"Baise!" His heart was caught in his throat as he thought about Livius, waiting for him to return in one piece as he had promised. And Eric, he could almost hear that irritating f*cking sassy tone telling him to at least try and put up a fight.
His hand shot out, blindly grasping for his shovel as he felt a weight on his chest. It was a dog, standing on him, lunging for his throat.
It was pure luck he managed to get one of his arms up in time to block the bite, and moments later he had managed to get a hold on his shovel. He swung it wildly, unable to feel anything as he moved himself in circles to fend the dogs off. Now that he was on his feet, he was a dangerous being. The dogs fought hard with his shovel, brutal still in there attack, but he managed them now with his adrenaline spiked so high he felt nothing, knew nothing but to kill those mother f*cking dogs. One by one they fell at his hand, their blood mingling with his in the dirt.
Immediately he was back looking for the gate, once more making a desperate attempt to clear it.
"Sheet!" Christophe was stunned for a moment, feeling as searing heat consumed his mid section. He had forgotten about the men in his struggle with the damned dogs. Distantly he realized he had been shot as he hoisted himself to the other side of the gate, making his mad dash back though his tunnel. He had never run so hard in his life, he knew this, but that was all he knew. He didnt remember how many times he fell down, or what it was like to consider defeat. Nothing of how he had sat in his van for much longer than he should have, hands trembling as he considered making a last phone call to Livius. Maybe say something to haunt the man, so he could never really forget him. A cigarette had been on the fore front of his mind since he gotten over the gate. He had no recollection of driving back because he didn't. He had called Eric to come get him out. What he said to Eric, if he said anything to him is lost. Everything was just gone from him.
Christophe had awoken to pain blooming through his abdomen. His hands moved to the source of his discomfort, only to find that one of them was trapped. Still he was disoriented, but he knew it was Eric. There was a certain feel to his hands, so soft and warm, something he had never found in anyone else. He was asleep though, leaned onto the side of the bed Christophe was laying on. As he became more aware of himself, Christophe realized grimly that he had been washed from head to toe. And with disdain he noted his hair smelled like Eric's shampoo.
With one hand he proded his place of hurt, baring his teeth as pain flared from the injury. It had been cleaned and stitched, much like all the other places where the beasts had torn into him. He felt for his dog tags, relieved when his fingers came into contact with the chill of the metal. His shovel had been propped up behind the door, where he could easily lay eyes on it if he needed to. Eric always seemed to be three steps ahead of him.
Thank God.
Rolling his head over to the side, he noticed his phone on the counter. It was bloody, and covered in mud; blinking that its owner had five missed calls, eight text messages, and three voice mails.
"Oh, enfer." He croaked softly, surprised when he heard how weak he sounded. That put him on edge, his teeth grit in irritation with merely himself He should never sound so f*cking pitiful. He reached for his phone deciding his wound could be left alone for now. Everything was from Livius.
It had been three f*ckig days since his mission. Three days of him falling off the face of the earth as far a Livius was concerned and the man was livid. Worry had set into his heart and he was even to the point of considering giving that damn Eric a call. Just to know Christophe was not dead in some ditch somewhere.
Christophe read through his messages quickly, his need for a cigarette growing with every one. It seemed he would need to call Livius, and face the consequences. But for now, it seemed that Eric had put Christophe's cigarettes into his shirt pocket, and in order to get them he would have to wake Eric.
"Ey, Beetch." He squeezed gently at Eric's hand. "Geet me a 'zigarette would 'ou?"
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