#sugarsweetshow

It had taken some time--he still wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed since the kid’s attack and him gathering enough mental faculties to call Pony--but Tommy was pretty sure he had a decent idea of how he’d gotten to where he was, leaned against the back counter, a maybe-clean rag pressed against the gash along the side of his head. He hadn’t seen the offending weapon, but he also hadn’t tried looking for it, a lingering sense of nausea (coupled with a pounding headache) keeping him relatively still.

The blow seemed to have been enough to aggravate his tinnitus, because the high pitched tone was there with a vengeance, hard to ignore, especially with him trying not to think about all of the blood that had come back when he’d brought a hand up to the point of impact. Or maybe it was just his brain, still disoriented, reacting oddly.

Hn-

It was damp, underground.

Korse hated how clammy his skin felt, hated every splash of his boots through the filthy water that had settled on the bottom of the tunnel. He hated how he had to crouch to fit, hated the way he couldn’t see what was behind him and could only see so far ahead with the light from his flashlight. He hated that he was alone, although he was the one who had insisted on it. Undeniably, he just didn’t want to be on this mission.

But there was nothing he could do. 

With a barely-audible sigh, he checked his coordinates once more, trying to reorient himself a little better. Supposedly, it was just a little farther until he reached Show Pony’s hideout, and the sense of dread filling Korse’s chest only got worse with each step. There was no way he could even hope to ambush him now, not with the light of his flashlight and the way he had to splash around... If Pony didn’t know that he was coming by now, he’d have to be an idiot. A large part of Korse was hoping that he would just flee at the sound of his approach, that he’d come up on an empty spot, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t. He could practically sense that he was waiting for him, standing proudly among the filth of the tunnel and prepared to defiantly defend it. Because of course Pony would never make anything easy for him.

When Korse estimated himself to be 10 steps away from the coordinates that had been given to him, he stopped for long enough to turn off his flashlight in a last ditch effort at stealth. With his fingers trailing through the filth on the wall of the tunnel to orient himself, he took another 5 steps before stopping again. This time, he closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to compose himself before he spoke, his voice ringing uncomfortably off of the walls.

Hello~

Red? Pony? Somebody?