#heehehee

my shaylas... I wish I could tell their story... if only either of them were still alive to tell it, or had left a journal in a hidden study underneath the throne room of the Crystal Empire or something... ough man if only... /not srs

I want it to be painfully obvious it's like NOTHING we've been shown.

If Will and Mike kiss, everyone will know this is what's been missing, because it won't be a dry, fleeting thing. No.

It will be NOTHING like that.

Ohh you got it ;)

It's eight against one, the same number of rifles aimed squarely at Leon's head as he reluctantly drops his gun and put his hands over his head, glaring at the smirking man several feet in front of him.

"There. Happy?" he goads, and expects it when someone kicks his knees out from beneath him to send him crashing to the cement floor, two others immediately wrenching his arms behind his back and tying the wrists together with thick ropes tightly enough that Leon can already feel himself losing circulation. He grunts as they shove him roughly to the ground and begin to do the same to his ankles---until their leader steps forward and waves a hand, boots coming to a stop only inches away from where Leon's face has been pressed into the gritty floor.

"I changed my mind," he says, voice amused. "Get him up."

The lackeys drag him to his feet so quickly that he stumbles once they've got him upright again, firm holds on his upper arms pulling uncomfortably at his shoulders. Leon does his best not to show it, raising his chin and staring disdainfully at their leader. He's shorter than Leon by at least a few inches, but far more muscled and stout, square jaw marred by scars as he sizes Leon up.

"Let's get this over with," Leon says with a sigh, holding himself still and confident. "What is it that you want from me?"

He doesn't see the first punch coming, but it snaps his head back before he even realizes what's happening, stars exploding in his vision. Leon reels, blinking against the sudden spike of pain in his nose, and rolls his head back to centre. He feels dazed already, ears ringing, and all he can do is blink owlishly at the man as he rips open Leon's button-up shirt. He struggles lightly in surprise, only to receive another quick hit to the solar plexus, doubling him over.

Leon flinches as cold fingers poke at his abdomen, the hot drip of blood streaming over his lips from his throbbing nose as he rights himself again. It has to be broken---this guy really isn't pulling his punches at all.

"Oh, Agent Kennedy," he's saying, false pity coloring his tone. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Tom Thumb?" Leon asks idly, licking blood from his lip. The taste of pennies fills his mouth, and he barely has time to make a face before the man is punching him in the cheekbone again. Leon yelps as the arms supporting him suddenly let go and collapses to his knees, going easily when someone pushes him onto his side with a foot. He flexes his bound wrists and tries to blink away the spots in his vision.

"Funny," the man says, crouching beside Leon where he lies on the floor. Blood has begun to trickle down his upper lip to drip to the floor in a sticky puddle, Leon's sinuses beginning to feel slightly thick as the swelling starts to kick in. "I'm not that short, asshole."

He grabs Leon's hair and yanks his head upward, the pull enough to make Leon wince. The man gets his face close and says, "I don't want shit from you, Kennedy. I want to send a message."

He lets Leon's head drop and stands. Leon braces himself.

The kick to his ribs rips the breath from his lungs regardless, his body curling up only to spasm as someone else kicks him from behind. Without his arms free to defend his head, he catches a boot to the side of the temple, and everything gets a lot hazier in his memories after that. All he can remember is pain and the taste of blood. Agonized cries cut off by hits to his gut, breathless and gasping as blows rain down relentlessly.

He comes back to himself with a groan, drawn from where he'd been drifting peacefully in half-consciousness by the agony throbbing through his entire body. He coughs, and seizes up with the pain it causes, internally noticing the tang of blood that fills his mouth when he does. That can't be good, but maybe it's just from his nose. He can't tell with his arms held back like this, and his hands have gone numb enough to tell him that he's been here for a while. He moans, low and pained. Tries to sit up.

Nope, that's definitely not happening with the fire that erupts in his ribcage, gasping breaths all Leon can manage until the pain finally dissipates. His back hurts. His stomach feels like it's been pulverized. His face is tight and swollen, breathing through his nose almost impossible with the mess it's become. He'll look a sight to whoever finds his body, bruised and battered with the telltale signs of a beating. He's probably already turning purple, his bare chest colorful with blood and marks when he glances down. Looks like they had some fun cutting him up, too, but maybe it's just from his skin splitting with the force.

“had you not stumbled, I would’ve had you against these bars…”

—<>—

….extremely messy doodle because my brain just immediately went ‘DRAW THAT. RIGHT NOW DRAW IT NOW.’ so I did

sorry for the bad quality-

AAAAH MAN I LOVE HOW SPOOKY HE LOOKS