So, second chapter so soon, eh? Meh. anyways, I want one thing clear, I want you readers to criticize this story to hell and back will the force of Dovakin's "Booty Call" shout. (points to those who remember that comic.) Note, I, as of now, cannot cross this story with the main cannon, as I don't have permission to do so from EmpoleonMaster23. Anyways, let's begin.
(Traitor's P.O.V)
I scream in pain as the guard on my left shoots my lung, and I quickly begin coughing up blood. Commander Grant, my old Commander when I was in Stallion Squadron, rubbed his eyes in tiredness.
"Listen, Nixus, if you tell us the truth, we'll let you live in a cell, and not live in hell." He tried to bargain with me, and I spat at him, blood coating his shirt.
"I am telling the truth ye fuckin moron! I would not let them kill a innocent child! It's why I signed up in the first place you fucking egg!" I barked at him. He raised his brow at my insult, but shrugged it off.
"Fine, if you want to die from execution, than be my guest. Take him to the Furs cell." the guards on both my sides nodded, and dragged my body across the facility to the high security cells, made with reinforced steel, so not even a Fur could break through, even with their magic. They believe I am working with the Furs, even though I'm not. It takes them four minutes to drag me to a cell with two Furs, and strike the back of my head with a metal baton, before throwing me in. my body limply hits the floor, along with my conscious.
(P.O.V switch, female Fur)
Me and my brother's heads shoot up as the guards open the door, whacking a horribly wounded human in the head with a baton, before throwing the unconscious man in our cell. The two guards chuckle lightly at me shuffling into my brother's side. They shut the door and walk away. I inch over to the body, confused why they would throw one of their own in here. My tail twitched, and my brother groaned. I got up and rolled the human onto his back, backing up quickly in both a case of if he attacked, and absolute shock. His stomach was heavily bandaged, and his side had a bullet hole in it. In the middle of his chest was a tattoo of a seven pointed star, and on his shoulder a simple pentagram. On the side of his neck was a circle with a crescent moon like shape on top and star in the middle of it. Thanks to my old education in ancient symbols, I could tell that the symbols were Wiccan in nature, most importantly the Horned God symbol, the Pentagram, and the Elven Star. Why he had those specific symbols, I had no idea, but his face caught my attention. Sharp chin, sunken in cheeks, scar from his upper lip to his forehead, albino white hair stained with his blood. I opened one of his eyes, seeing that his iris was was surprisingly small, and colored dark purple. I close his eye-lid, and I looked closer at his body. Near his waist was a long, shallow cut, starting near the middle of his side, ending under his navel. All he wore was a pair of torn camo jeans. I carefully nudge his body, and he twitched. I stumbled back, startled as he groaned in pain, his eyes opening a small bit, before covering his eyes with his hand, as the light probably was brighter than the sun to him.
"Fuck…" He mumbled in pain, and rolled over.
Apologies for a short chapter, but fuck it. I should note that I usually am only able to post on the weekends. Have a good rest of your day, comrades.
