"Get… away from me," he growled in a voice that was not his own. It was dark. Menacing. Cold and cruel. Like a broken heart. Like a revealed lie. His eyes held a fire that would burn uncontrollably and kill anyone and everything in its path. Tears poured like roaring rivers from his eyes. The intensity was choking him. He felt lighter though. Like he was getting high on the feeling. It wasn't a good feeling. But it was addictive. He wasn't sure he could stop it.
"ESAWA!" cried a high pitched voice. He felt himself being tackled to the ground. He struggled for dominance to get up. An orange glow entered the creature above him eyes.
It shook its head furiously.
"Es Aw Wigt," he said. Zak blinked. The feeling began to disappear. The creature above him was the fuzzy creature that attacked him in his room. And did it just say… it's all right? He blinked at the creature with his tear covered eyes. He wasn't using his powers now but he couldn't stop the tears from falling.
"Get off!" he said flipping the fuzzy creature off of him. He felt tired. But he needed to find Van Rook. He darted from one foot to the other. Doyle stepped forward.
"You're in no shape to be moving around Zak. You were burned along your ribs," he said slowly. Zak cocked his brow. He lowered his hand over his ribs and winced. It was either from the house or from the Naga attack that he went through.
"Since when do you care?" Zak bit back. Normally he wouldn't act like that. But he was mad. And he was talking to a traitor and the people who worked with his guardian's captor. They were no friends of his.
"I've always cared Zak. You're my nephew," he said. Zak swallowed a lump that was beginning to form in his throat. A mercenary does not get choked up on such feelings. They do not. They do not.
"You left me. You didn't even tell me," Zak said unable to hold back. Doyle blinked. He forgot how young Zak was sometimes. He and Van Rook treated him like a teenager. He was only eleven. Twelve real soon though.
"Van Rook didn't let me," he said lowering himself so he could look Zak in the eye, "Once I left he wouldn't let me talk to you or tell you what was going on."
Zak didn't say anything. That sounded like something he would do.
"I want to talk to him," he said looking into Doyle's eyes, "I want to talk to Van Rook myself."
Doyle looked at his sister. She walked up to Zak and put her hand on his shoulder. He tensed slightly.
"We'll talk to Miranda sweetie," she said with a sweet as honey voice. Zak looked into her eyes. He furrowed his brows. Was she really his… mom? She seemed nice and gentle. A warm figure that he had only really seen rarely in Doyle. Heck, he never had a mother figure. He had Van Rook and Doyle. Doyle was like an Uncle. And Van Rook was like an unorthodox and slightly crazy obsessed dad trying to make his kid number one. But they were who he had.
'"Okay," he said relaxing a bit. The older man, Doyle's sister's husband picked him up. He was a lot like Van Rook in size and stature. But he already had an idea. Once night fell, he would find Van Rook's location. And get a jetpack. Probably take Doyle's too for Van Rook. He was going to bust him out.
I'm dead. Review nonetheless