C h a p t e r T w e n t y - E i g h t
I struggled to gain my breath back, but Fang was on top of me, his arms at his side, ready to strike.
"Any last words," he hissed, barely above a whisper, "traitor?"
I gulped.
"Could you get off of me?" I replied with a smile.
A dangerous flash crossed over Fang's dark eyes. His fists rose up to about his chest, and an evil grin spread across his infuriated face for a fraction of a second, probably from envisioning the damage he could do to my face.
Oh dear.
Just as he threw the first punch at my face, I swung an arm up to protect it, grabbing his wrist. I twisted it painfully, but he was strong and still had another arm. His other hand shot out and got a grip on my throat.
Man, this kid was not messing around.
I mustered up all of my strength to pull my leg out from under Fang (he may have had hollow bones, but he was not light at all) and shoved my foot up into his stomach, forcing him off of me. He hid the opposite wall, narrowly avoiding the open steel door that many small eyes were looking out of.
I leapt on top of him, pinning each of his arms down on the ground, but jeez; this kid was seriously strong.
"Fang," I said, almost desperately. Almost. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to hurt you."
His eyes flashed again, and a snarl curled up upon his lips. He looked about to say something, and I didn't want to know what. Before he wriggled free of my grasp-couldn't be very long now-I offered a punch to his nose, now covered in scarlet.
The blood gushing from Fang's nostrils got onto the floor, on my knuckles, and on his black jacket.
"Sorry," I muttered, looking at him with my most sincere expression. "I thought it would knock some sense into you."
I rose up off of Fang, and offered him my hand to help him up.
Fang shoved my hand aside, wiped his face quickly, and shoved his foot into my kneecap as he began to leap to his feet.
A deafening crack echoed through the otherwise silent and empty hallways, and I collapsed, clutching my knee with pain. My face lost its apologetic smile, and instead, a snarl of my own threatened to break loose.
But in the silence, I became consciously aware of the sound of footsteps approaching. I looked over at my cell door, just down the hall, at the still limp form of Professor Tubs.
I looked back in time to see several men in white suits look down at the bloodied mess of Fang, to my huddled form opposite him.
"Well, looks like we won't have to kill them, boys," the front-most man snickered. His posse let a light chuckle out as well, as though following some invisible instruction to do so. The first man stopped laughing, and his little wannabes did the same. "They're killing themselves for us."
I heard a light twang, like an arrow let out of its bow, before I started to black out.
The last thing I remember is looking over at Fang, who's glare wasn't directed at the group of men.
It was at me.
