‘guns for hire’ — great escape #26
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content warnings: defiant whumpee, manhandling, minor violence, blood, tranquillizers, non-con drugging, passing out
Leo hadn’t realised that maybe Roy was right about him being a fast runner. He didn’t look back for a second, his feet slapping against the dirt as twigs and leaves cut into his face and arms. A numbness was spreading through his ankles from the cold of the night creeping in, only the sound of his ragged breathing and frantic footsteps echoing through the trees.
He must have ran for ages. His throat was dry, lungs burning like a ferocious fire in his chest, so tight he didn’t think he could even draw another breath. His pulse hammered, the blood pumping through his head with a horrible pressure.
Even when his legs were buckling and he was staggering over his feet, he didn’t stop. The adrenaline urged him forward, unwilling to let his pace slow for a split second.
He couldn’t get caught.
It was too late now. Leo had bolted, and he couldn’t talk his way out of this. If Roy caught up up him, he didn’t even want to imagine what twisted punishment was awaiting for him. The looming threat over his father forced him to gather any strength, and push on.
The sky was getting darker by the time he was reduced to a pile of shaking limbs. His vision was spinning uncontrollably, a swimming nausea building up in his chest. He retched, hands bracing against a tree, the feeling returning to his feet. His socks were covered in dirt and leaves, having scuffed them against rocks and twigs along the way. They were aching in pain, even when he hobbled back to his feet to push on.
He didn’t want to stop.
Not for a second.
He threw cautious glances behind him, wincing through his teeth when his side would flare in pain. It was deathly quiet, no sign of anybody following him, and so he pushed on through clumsy steps.
The dirt track was somewhere to his right. If he squinted hard enough, then he could see it through the trees. But that was okay. He needed to stick to it so it could lead him back to a city, a town, or just somewhere he could call for help.
He had to get out.
Leo felt something sharp prick the back of his neck. A small gasp slipped past his lips, his ragged breathing almost stopping still. His feet staggered, bumping into a tree, the dirt cold beneath his feet. His shaking fingers stroked against the nape of his neck, barely gaining enough strength to pull something out.
He stared at the palm of his hand in shock.
It was little tranquillizer dart.
Leo’s hairs pricked on edge. A panic surged through him as he whipped around, eyes scanning the trees behind him fearfully. His thoughts reiterated sharp curses as he caught a black figure between the trees. Rifle clutched in his hands, carefully aiming down the sights.
Roy lowered it, but Leo was already bolting.
The adrenaline exploded and suddenly, the dizziness was gone, his strength returned. A cold terror gripped his heart. How had he been so close? Leo had thought he would’ve heard somebody running behind him, with the stark quietness of the forest, but there had been nothing.
Yet now, he could hear Roy catching up to him.
The terrifying thumping of his boots, the presence stinging the back of his neck. A sudden weight barreled into him, and Leo felt himself smacking onto the ground. He rolled through mud and dirt, twigs and leaves getting caught in his hair, before he slammed to a stop with a pained whine.
Before he could scramble to his feet, Roy was on him. Leo kicked and screamed as he settled his weight ontop of him, abruptly pinning him down to the ground. His hands punched and slapped at his chest, thrust into a blind panic.
“No!” He screamed, wrenching his head in an attempt to squirm his way out of Roy’s bruising grip. One gloved hand had snagged his wrist, while Leo’s other continued to bracket against his collarbone and shove him off. “Get away! Let me go!”
The mercenary wasn’t smiling. Even through his tear filled thrashes, he could see the coldness in his eyes.
“Go on, lion,” he said, voice dark. “Keep struggling. Make it worse for yourself.”
Leo lashed out, his nails raking down the side of Roy’s face. The man was momentarily stunned by the attack, gloved fingers brushing against the jagged cuts on his cheek. When he drew away, there was already blood. That caused a flicker of a smirk to arise on his lips.
Leo sobbed, frantically shaking his head. “Leave me alone!” He ground out, face twisted into a frustrated scowl. He was still terrified out of his mind, but Leo’s rationality was long gone. “Get off!”
Roy wasn’t budging. Even with the panicked adrenaline giving him a boost, he would never be able to throw the mercenary off with his bare hands. If he didn’t do something, he was going to be dragged back to the house.
“You know,” Roy drawled, the scratch marks on his face angry and red, beading with little pearls of blood. “I should be mad, lion, but I honestly can’t help but feel a little proud.”
His voice was a mocking, venomous whisper by his ear. Leo whined, wrenching his head away. His hand had long abandoned pushing against his chest, instead clawing at the dirt in an attempt to find something to grab.
“You got a good hit on Bran, you know,” he continued, his voice making his heart pound away in his chest. “He was bitching and whining. I’m impressed you almost got something through that thick skull of his.”
Roy’s hands fisted his shirt, slamming him against the ground violently. It caused his ribs to flare, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Before he could catch a breath, he did it again.
His eyes popped open, vision exploding with stars as the back of his skull bounced against the ground. His fingers curled around something solid. Something relatively big.
A gasped wheeze strangled in his throat, and he smacked the jagged rock into the side of Roy’s head. Just like Bran, the man was knocked slightly off center, but his grip hadn’t loosened an inch. Leo was already doing it again, striking his head, enough to wiggle his legs and sink a kick into his stomach. Roy jerked backwards, but it was enough for Leo to weasel his way out from under him.
He staggered when a wave of dizziness slammed into him, stumbling frantically away from the man. There was a stream of blood trickling down his forehead, and his cold eyes were narrowed in on him darkly. He seemed to be taking his time climbing to his feet, but Leo was already gone.
He sprinted faster than he’d ever sprinted before, smacking away the loose branches and leaves in his way, uncaring about the small little scratches and cuts tearing at his skin. The back of his neck was itching and Leo felt a horrible, nauseating feeling overpower him.
His vision was starting to scatter. Blur, swim, stretch and warp into unrecognisable shapes. Leo felt like his heart was lodged in his throat, a sudden throbbing sensation blooming in his skull.
He felt his anke snag on something, and suddenly Leo was falling. He landed face first into the dirt, body picking up a terrifying amount of speed as he began to tumble down the incline of the hill. He felt his wrist smack into something hard on the way down, his ribs screaming from the impact.
He could taste dirt on his tongue and copper running down his nose, before he stilled to a dizzying stop.
Leo’s shaking limbs twitched, trying to push himself up, but he collapsed with a wheezing gasp. Static engulfed his vision, and everything went black.
. . .
Leo woke up with sunlight on his face.
A horrible stiffness plagued his limbs, forcing himself to peel his eyelids open. A soft, wheezing cough rattled his lungs, feeling the caked dirt and small beads of blood sticking to his face.
Birds tweeted softly, and a quiet wind whistled past his ears. A numb throbbing was thumping in his head like a bass drum, pressing uncomfortably against the back of his eyes as he forced himself onto his knees.
A pained hiss escaped his lips from the pain in his stiff body.
Then he swiftly remembered what had happened. His sore eyes darted around, eyeing the forest with a slither of panic. His fingers instinctively reached for area where the dart that had hit the back of his neck, a sinking sensation of dread pooling in his stomach.
Leo scrubbed the dirt away as best as he could.
It was difficult to even get himself onto his shaking legs, bruised up and littered in various cuts. His socks were soaked through, chilling his feet to the bone. He used the trees to steady himself as he went, squinting through his blurring vision.
The dirt track was next to him. He kept back, eyeing the road wearily in case he recognised any cars passing. It was the crack of dawn, sun just starting to hang in the sky, so it would be much easier to see him.
He coughed, rattling his ribs.
He tried not to think about the miserable situation he was in.
He tried not to think about how easy it had been for Roy to catch up to him, no matter how fast he thought he’d been running. He tried not to let himself be discouraged, but a harrowing exhaustion was catching up to him.
Leo kept walking until he felt like he couldn’t stand up anymore. He collapsed beside a tree, his limbs shaking and his head swimming. Whatever tranquilizer Roy had used must have been a strong one, with its long lasting effects.
He curled up into a ball, knees to his chest, trying to work some feeling back into his feet. His heavy eyelids fluttered shut, attempting to blink back the little spots guarding the edge of his vision.
Leo perked up when he heard something.
A low rumbling of an engine, approaching from the distance. A shock of panic zapped down his spine, scrambling in an attempt to keep himself out of sight. But through the treeline, he could see the slow approaching car as it got closer.
It was red. A red car.
Leo’s heart picked up.
None of the mercenaries owned a red car.
The secretary leapt to his feet. All previous exhaustion was forgotten in the heat of the moment, bolting onto the treeline and onto the road. He began flailing his arms at the approaching car, heart hammering in his chest.
“Stop, stop, please!” He shouted, almost tripping over his feet as he stumbled towards the car. It rolled to a stop, and he almost slumped against the door, window being winded down. A beared stranger eyed him wearily, his eyes widening in shock.
“Please! Please, you have to help me,” Leo begged, his voice cracking as the panic began winding it’s way through each cell of his body. He needed to get out of here. He needed to escape. “I-I was kidnapped, sir, please...”
The man fumbled, his eyes blinking up at his battered up figure in disbelief. The car door popped open, and he instantly climbed out.
“Kidnapped? Oh, shit—wait, you’re the...” He struggled to get the words out. He was shrugging off his coat, and draping it over Leo’s shoulders. He wasn’t wearing Roy’s. “You’re the kid that’s on the news, oh my god...”
Leo’s chest caved in, and he broke down into wet sobs. He was on the news — that meant people were looking for him.
“Help me, please!” He pleaded, tasting a horrible mix of dirt, salt and copper on his tongue. The man leaned over and jabbed something on his dashboard. He heard a distinct clicking sound.
“Get in, kid, come on.”
Leo didn’t have to be told twice. With his heart racing in his ears, he rushed to clamber into the passager seat, guided by the helpful man, who seemed just as panicked as he did. His trembling fingers gripped onto the coat, hearing him shut the door. The car smelled faintly of lavender.
The stranger quickly hopped into the drivers seat, and jerked out his phone.
“I’m going to call the police, okay?” He forced out, jabbing at his phone screen. Leo almost went hysterical, shaking his head frantically.
“No!” He cried, startling the man. He lurched forward in his seat, twisting to face him. “No, please, you have to start driving! Turn around and drive, please, I’m begging you!”
The man let out a shaking breath. “Okay, okay! I’m going!”
The car smoothly turned around, and Leo threw a terrified glance over his shoulder as he searched the disappearing dirt path for any sign of another car or a mercenary lingering in the treeline. He pressed the back of his head against the headrest, dissolving into exhausted sobs.
The man was cautiously glancing over at him, also checking the mirrors, almost like he was paranoid.
“You’re okay, kid,” he assured, although he wasn’t very good at it. Stiff and awkward, but Leo appreciated the gesture regardless. “You said...you were kidnapped?”
Leo frantically nodded his head. The man let out a puff of air.
“I’m Michael, and you’re the Whitlock kid,” he mumbled, as if he was stating the facts for himself. He motioned down for a moment, jerking his chin. “My phone is just under the hand break, there. You can call the police while we’re driving, okay? I got lost, actually. It’s good I ran into you. Jesus...”
Leo’s chest deflated. “Thank you...” He choked, grabbing the phone. “Thank you so much.”
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