Ironwood was startled by the firework sounding explosion. He shielded his face from the intense light, bloody knife still in hand. Once the flash was over, they were completely blind in the dark.
"What the-," Ironwood started to demand, but he was cut off by a blade at his throat.
"Drop the knife," Blake ordered, "and stand up, slowly."
Ironwood let the knife fall to the grass. As he rose, she saw Torchwick's chest. There was so much blood. She tasted bile as she fought back a wave of nausea. In the center of his chest deep cuts formed the letters of the insult the General had used on him.
"Let him go," she yelled, trying to control the hint of hysteria that had crept its way into her voice, "NOW!"
The two men holding Torchwick were hesitant. Unable to see much in the dim moonlight, they had no idea what was going on or where the angry voice had come from.
"Do it," Ironwood told them calmly.
They dropped Torchwick in the dirt. He managed to catch himself before falling face first and sat back clutching the wounds on his chest.
"Hands up, all of you!" she shouted, the hysteria in her voice getting more and more prominent, "Get away from him!"
They complied. She took a step back, prompting Ironwood to do the same.
She tossed the cane toward Torchwick, but he didn't seem to notice. It looked like he was fighting to remain conscious.
"Why did you do that to him?" she asked.
Reverting back to the authoritative and charismatic voice he normally used, Ironwood answered, "Because he deserved it."
Torchwick scoffed and coughed up more blood. He looked towards where Blake was standing, confusion spread across his battered face. He blinked a few times, unable to make her out in the dark. Then it seemed to dawn on him who she was. He managed to choke out, "I know that...voice" before his gaze dropped back down to the bloody puddle his injuries were forming in the grass. "Hmm," he laughed.
"Tell your little friend that it's pointless to try to rescue you," Ironwood said callously.
"She's...not," Torchwick winced and paused to catch his breath, "my friend...she's probably just mad she didn't get to do...most of this." Despite his difficulty speaking, he sounded amused.
"Is this true?" asked the General.
"He deserves to be in jail!" she told him angrily, "Not mutilated!"
"But you know he would just get out again, don't you?" he replied, "He will go right back to being a thorn in the side of this peaceful city."
"This is a hate crime," she accused, "it has nothing to do with why he was in jail and you know it!"
"Oh, but it does," the General hissed, his voice becoming menacing again, "This has everything to do with why he was in jail. It's why he became a criminal."
"Leave," she yelled, "NOW! Or I WILL kill you!"
She moved her blade from the General's neck to the small of his back and prodded him forward with a little more force than necessary. There was now a distinct tear in the fabric of his jacket.
"We've done what we came to do," he said over his shoulder.
Ironwood started walking off in the direction he had come from. He signalled for the others to follow and they slowly walked off without looking back even after they had turned on their remaining flashlights.
Blake was shocked. She hadn't expected them to just leave, but they did. Nothing that had happened tonight made any sense. She stood there, gun aimed at their backs until they disappeared from sight.
What do I do now?
She knew she should get Torchwick to a hospital. For some reason, his aura wasn't helping him heal. Then it dawned on her, if she took him anywhere public he would end up back in jail again where the General could get to him. She would risk putting him back in the same position he was in now. Where the hell could we go? She could tell people what she had seen, but even if they saw the state he was in, she knew the General would deny everything and they would believe his word over hers. Ironwood would find out who she was and then he'd come for her, too. She couldn't think of a way out of this mess and she was beginning to panic.
A snarky voice interrupted her frantic thoughts, "That was incredibly stupid, Kitten, but we'll discuss that later if we get the chance."
"I-," she started to speak, but Torchwick cut her off.
"However, since you have apparently decided to rescue me, we probably don't have much time before my next group of old friends shows up..." his voice turned bitter, "...to murder me." He took a deep, ragged breath and stood up. Blake was genuinely impressed. He was still a bit hunched over, but maybe he wasn't as bad off as he had seemed after all. She picked up his cane and handed it to him.
"How can you-,"
Torchwick cut her off again, "We need to run. Now."
He started running North, so she ran after him, worried he would lose his footing in the darkness and end up worse off than he already was. The night's trauma didn't seem to have left him as disoriented as she thought, despite it being near pitch black in some places he had no trouble navigating. He apparently knew this area of the woods fairly well.
They both glanced back periodically to see if they were being followed. As far as she could tell they were fine, but Torchwick was still running like his life depended on it.
His life DOES depend on it, Blake reminded herself.
Blake easily kept pace with the injured man. He finally turned and started leading her towards the city. The path he used was confusing, but still seemed deliberate. They were nearing the outskirts of Vale when she noticed Torchwick's pace slow drastically. They were only about ten minutes from one of what she recalled to be the shadier districts, but they had been moving for over an hour and even she was beginning to tire.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked. He didn't acknowledge her question, so she pressed on hoping for the best.
The best didn't last long.
"Arghhh!" Torchwick gasped and hit the ground. He didn't fall so much as just collapse. The adrenaline that had kept him going in lieu of his aura had finally given out. She ran to his side, kneeling down, and awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder. He slowly sat up trying to catch his breath.
"We're...close..." he told her, his voice was raspy and sound almost desperate.
"To where?" she asked. He didn't respond.
Ducking her head, she saw a grimace on his face, his visible eye closed tightly.
"Torchwick," she pleaded. Still nothing. She gingerly cupped his chin and lifted his face to meet hers. "Where are we going?" she asked. He finally looked at her, but she could tell his focus was a little off.
"A...safehouse" he told her.
She nodded to him and withdrew her hand. He seemed to be getting his bearings back a bit, but she knew he would need her help to stand. She carefully lifted his left arm over her shoulders. The motion made him wince. He's probably got some broken ribs, she thought and paused to give him a moment to adjust before he tried to regain his footing.
She slid her right arm around his back, feeling his muscles tense through the thin fabric of his shirt. Without thinking, she stole a glance at his mangled torso. She was still horror struck by the bloody obscenity etched into his skin, but noticed that he was in extremely good physical shape. I guess that's how he's made it this far, she thought, surprised.
He cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up quickly, embarrassed that he caught her staring. He raised his eyebrow. She furrowed hers in response, but tried to look sympathetic. She would rather him be offended by her staring at his wounds than amused by the fact that she was...well, it didn't matter. They didn't have time for this.
"Are you ready?" she asked, impatiently. His eye narrowed a bit in question, but he responded only with a nod. She counted to three and lifted.
Thank God we're close, she thought. They needed to get wherever they were going fast. She wouldn't be able to carry him or even support his weight for long. He was a head taller than she was and a lot more...dense than she had anticipated.
Torchwick was able to walk, but only just. Convenient that he carries a cane, she thought. She stayed close, letting him clutch her shoulder when he started to get off balance. They were finally out of the woods, but the streets were no more level than the forest floor had been and Torchwick was having more trouble keeping steady.
The buildings, she noticed, were in as ill repair as the pavement. Most of the store fronts had barred windows and several places were boarded up and abandoned. This is definitely the shady part of Vale, she noted.
Blake followed Torchwick's lead as he wound through several dark alleys. She started feeling nervous about who they might run into on top of worrying about who might be following them. He finally motioned for her to stop. They were now standing in front of a particularly antiquated looking shop. He glanced around cautiously before approaching the door. She followed suit, straining her ears to pick up anything that might be even remotely suspicious. When she got to the door, he glanced at her to confirm they were clear. She nodded in response. He opened the door and beckoned her inside, closing the door quietly behind them.
The lamplight from the street was muted by the shop's filthy windows. Blake's enhanced vision showed her nothing but empty shelves and spider webs as she followed Torchwick to a closet in the back of the stockroom.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
He opened the door to what looked like a very tiny closet and pushed her inside, almost falling in after her.
"Close the door."
"Why are we in a closet?"
"Close the door. Now." he ordered as sternly as he could muster in his present condition. She was still skeptical and didn't move.
He placed his right hand on the wall above her left shoulder for balance and used his other hand to reach for the door and pull it closed. She glared at him, but then remembered he couldn't see her.
"Why are we in a closet?" she asked again, irritated and a little flustered by being pinned between him and the wall. He steadied himself and brought his hands to her shoulders. She started to protest, but he brought a finger to her lips.
"Shhhh," he said and gently shifted her to the right. He felt the wall where she had been standing and found a breaker box. He opened it and flipped a few switches. She heard a click and noticed that the opposite wall suddenly moved, revealing hidden door. Before she could maneuver around him and open it, Torchwick collapsed again. She was close enough to catch him this time, but only managed to slow his fall, sliding to the floor under his weight. The front of her shirt was now stained with his blood.
"Urgh!" she hissed quietly. She managed to shove him off of her and lay him on his back...sort of. She stood up and edged her way around the pile that was his limbs. She lifted his torso out of the way enough to open the door. There was a dark, narrow hallway ending in a staircase. She rolled her eyes and started attempting to drag Torchwick's dead weight through the door.
The sound of glass shattering inside the shop startled her and she froze. SHIT, she cursed, chiding herself for losing even a second's worth of time. With all her strength, she drug the unconscious man's body out of the closet. She closed the door, realizing too late that the breaker box was still open. She pressed her ear to the door and listened.
There were definitely voices. The empty store sounded like it was being looted. She couldn't tell what the offenders were saying at first, but from the tone they were using she knew they were very, very angry. She heard the closet door open and the breaker box being slammed shut.
At this range, she could make out enough to know these weren't just a group of random hooligans breaking an entering. They were definitely after Torchwick-she heard his name and...that slur...but this time it was mixed several derogatory terms used for humans. These people were definitely Faunus.
"That's enough," a familiar voice chimed in, "let's keep moving."
Blake's heart almost stopped. No! she thought, no, no, no, no, no, no! She sank down quietly by Torchwick's legs, both hands covering her mouth to hold back the sounds of disdain and disappointment threatening to escape.
Adam, why?
"Urgh..."
Torchwick's soft gasp startled her. She crawled over him and covered his mouth with her hand. Leaning down to his ear, she whispered as quietly as she could, "Shhh, they're here."
Lifting back up, she saw in his face that he was definitely disoriented. He couldn't see anything in the cramped, pitch black hallway, his visible eye darting left and right trying hard to determine his surroundings. The voices outside the hallway made him pause. From her position, she could tell that he was holding his breath.
When the voices got too far away to distinguish, he exhaled and stifled a cough. She saw relief in his expression, then felt his lips stretch into a smile beneath her hand. He slowly reached up and slid his hand over hers. He pulled it from his mouth, squeezing it lightly.
"Thank you, Blake." There was a look of genuine sincerity on his face and it made her pause.
"You're welcome." she responded dutifully, watching the warm smile change back into his usual cocky grin.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
Realizing their awkward position, she slid her hand out of his grasp and rose quickly. At least he can't see me blush right now, she reassured herself as she helped him back to his feet. She put her ear to the door again and listened. The cool metal felt good on her warm cheek. She couldn't hear anything at all.
"I think they're gone," she whispered. After another pause for safe measure, she walked over to help guide him through the darkness.
It took Blake, the wall and the cane to get Torchwick down the staircase without incident. The door at the bottom had a coded lock that he punched a few numbers into. Once the door was open, she helped him inside. He flipped a light switch on the wall and blinked as his eyes adjusted.
Blake was relieved to see the safe house was in much better shape than the storefront. It was furnished like a nice studio apartment. In front of them was a large bed made up with a heavy gray comforter. Small tables sat to either side, each with a small lamp on top. On the opposite wall was a small black couch and a door she assumed led to a bathroom. There was even a kitchen area and a small table with two chairs. The remaining wall was covered in bookshelves. A thin layer of dust told her this place hadn't been inhabited for quite a while.
"Couch." he told her. She nodded and helped him limp around the bed.
As they rounded the edge, he started coughing and had to stop. She led him to one of the chairs at the little table. He slumped into it as his cough fit tapered off. Barely able to hold himself up anymore, he leaned forward and let his forehead rest on the table. Blake held onto one of his shoulders in case he started to fall over.
She had no idea what to do. She was exhausted, her mind was frantic and she had next to no medical training. After everything, she realized, he's still going to die.
"You need a doctor." she told him.
"No." he said, not bothering to look up. He let one of his hands fall from the table and grasped her leg weakly. "I need you..." He coughed again and paused to try to control his breathing. Blake stared intently at him, waiting for him to continue. She felt so strange in that moment, with his sentence hanging. She realized she was holding her breath and exhaled sharply. The sound seemed to prompt him to continue. He gently squeezed her calf.
"I need you to open the drawer on the far right counter," he paused again and released her. She let go of his shoulders, hesitating for a moment to make sure he was stable, then rushed over to the counter and threw the drawer open. There was a small first aid kit. She pulled it out and rushed back to his side.
"I don't think some band-aids are going to help you," she told him, her voice sick with worry.
He laughed a little and winced. She put her free hand on his shoulder and set the box down on the table in front of him.
"You're going to die! Let me take you to a hospital." she pleaded, awkwardly placing her other hand further down his arm. He didn't respond, so she shook him a little. Torchwick sighed and lifted his hands to the table. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, he started to push himself up. Blake moved behind him and put a hand on each of his shoulders. He reached over and slid the box in front of him. He opened it and pulled out a syringe filled with a thick purple liquid.
"What is that?" she asked. He tore the packaging open with his teeth and prepped the needle.
"This," he said, his voice now hoarse, "is an antidote." Without further explanation, he placed the needle over his heart, swearing loudly as he plunged it into his chest. Blake cringed, but didn't look away. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she watched him slowly push the purple liquid into his chest. By the time he had emptied the contents, her nails had started to break skin through his shirt. He started directing his profanity at her as pulled the needle out and threw it on the table.
"Get your fucking claws out of me!"
"I'm so sorry." she said, releasing her grip immediately and pulling his torn shirt over his shoulder to see what kind of damage she had done. She had drawn blood in three places. She ran her fingers over the nail marks, looking up at him apologetically. His expression softened, but he still didn't look happy. She crossed behind him to check his other shoulder. It was just as bad. She frowned, embarassed. Torchwick wasted no time in teasing her.
"I hear...kisses make things...feel better, Kitten…so...if you're really sorry…?"
She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Oh, come on, Blake," he said playfully, "consider it...a dying man's last wish."
She was completely at a loss. After everything that had happened that night he was using what may be his last few moments to taunt her.
"You're an ass." she said, scowling. She reached up to throw his shirt back over his shoulder. She glanced at the nail marks and hesitated. They were starting to disappear. She rushed over and pulled the fabric back off of his other shoulder to see that those marks were gone as well.
"You say no to kissing, but now you're trying to undress me?" Torchwick asked, shrugging the remainder of the shirt down his back. Blake rolled her eyes again, but decided it best to disregard his comment. He reached his arms behind his back to tug them out of his sleeves. She grabbed his shoulders and turned his torso towards her. She was relieved to the hateful word the General had carved into him was slowly starting to heal.
A smile started to tug at her lips, but stopped when all the questions the night had raised started flooding back into her mind. She let go of his shoulders and stepped back, startled by the intense stare he had trained on her. He slowly slid his arms free of the ruined shirt and let it fall limp around his chair.
"Why did Ironwood do that?" she blurted out.
Torchwick shook his head.
"Tomorrow, Kitten. Let's talk tomorrow."
"But I-,"
"Blake!" he didn't shout, but his tone was firm and she backed down. He sighed.
"We have a lot to talk about," he said in a much gentler tone, "but we both need sleep." He looked down at his cane, then back up to her, "Can you help me to the couch?" She nodded and came to his side. He draped an arm over her shoulders and she helped him to his feet and over to the couch.
He had a hard time getting settled as he was too tall to fit comfortably. "Why don't you sleep on the bed?" She asked, but he had already passed out leaving Blake alone with her thoughts. She sank to the floor and watched the wounds on his chest slowly begin to close up.
That had definitely been Adam's voice she had heard. She had left the White Fang because of the unsavory activities he had instigated, but she had never expected him to be a part of something like this.
Torchwick shifted in his sleep and his hand slid off the couch and fell into her lap. She looked down at it and his blood on her white shirt. Her vision blurred as tears started to well from her eyes. She reached up to her face. She was so exhausted it took her a moment to realize she was crying. She leaned her head against the couch, absentmindedly taking his hand in hers, and sobbed softly until she fell asleep.