Four on One is So Unfair.

[Morgan LaLuna]

Morgan moved through the tunnels from the Annex and Arcade, slowly moving through the darkness. Not that he cared. His eyes stayed to his feet, and he trudged. On, and on. Twists, and turns. On, and on, and on... Until he felt like sitting down. He leaned his back against the wall, and slid until his rear settled against the floor, and tucked his arms behind bent knees. It was quiet. And there was nobody around. To the left, only darkness. To the right, only darkness. He whimpered, and finally...

He gave a plaintive wail, spine curling as he cried out. Anger. Hurt. Everything falling apart around him. Even when he won, he felt like he was losing. Try something new, and it bites you in the ass. Go for exactly the opposite of what you really want, to wash temptation from your mind, and it's just... Not the same. Disappointing. Vanilla, when you wanted chocolate and black cherry swirl, or something. He listened to the sound echo down the labyrinth of tunnels, and felt no relief. A tall glass of water that made him thirstier, a meal that only made the gnawing in his belly hurt all the more. His hands scrubbed over his face, dried blood from his nose flaking, and ran fingertips over his lips, flicking his wrist just so... Ah, look. A bottle of rum. Wasn't that just so convenient? He uncorked it, and tipped it up, bottom facing the ceiling, gulp, gulp, breathe. He wiped his lips on his forearm, and set the bottle beside him.

After a moment, he gave a little sniffle. He'd felt such anger at his friend. The one he considered a friend. Someone he'd... looked up to? Was that the right way to put it? Something something something, right? The tears that started down his face were from hurt. But they were from anger. The other had been so callous. So hurtful. Words cut deeper than the blows to his body. His heart bled, even when his skin had knit. He felt so low. So damn worthless, for so long. He had only wanted to be something more. And really, he thought he had been finally reaching exactly what he strove for. Something he could be proud of. Power? Maybe. Respect? Eh. Actually, he wasn't even sure what he had. He had to take some sort of inventory, here. His bed was warmed by a body he wasn't interested in. His heart was in a place he wasn't, bruised and pining. His mind... Well, who knew where the fuck that thing went, wandering off to lala land when he needed it the most.

It was so quiet in the tunnels... Until it wasn't. He paused upon hearing a footstep's echo, and looked up... But really, it was too late to react properly. A fist, from nowhere, and he was tumbling to his side, arms going up to protect himself far too late. The cry was unlikely to be heard by anything or anyone that cared. He tried to scramble away, only to get yanked back by his own hair with a choking noise.

"What we got here, then? All by yourself?" Dark eyes scanned, and set on the bottle of Kraken. "Looks like you get you some of that good money, drinking this good, huh? Or maybe you stealed it. What else did you steal, huh? Let's see it! Cough up the cash, crybaby..."

Morgan didn't fight back at first. Four of them. Four against one. How was that even fucking fair? He put both hands up.

"I don't have any money. I just got out of the arcade, man. I spent it all there. If you want my booze..." He was interrupted with the sound of a fist impacting his face. And the pain of it. He hit the ground like a stone again, and curled up when he was kicked in the ribs, hacking up and nearly vomiting from the pain. "I swear! Check my... Check my pockets..."

The looming man motioned to a young woman at his side, indicating she should do just that. Morgan did not fight her, but let her paw her filthy little fingers wherever they needed to go, impassively waiting. When everything came up empty, she looked up, shrugging. "He's telling the truth."

Of course, that wasn't a very good answer, was it? It was never good enough for these types. Another kick to the ribs, and he had the breath knocked out of him. The man sneered, and there was a rumble of laughter from the other two, one dumb looking brick of a man, and a weaselly sort of guy with a crooked nose that had obviously seen its fair share of rearranging. Morgan covered his face again, and gave a tiny groan. "Okay... okay..." He looked up, and held up his hands, palms out, trying to get up to his knees.

One, two, three, four.

closest first. The girl. Then the big one. But Beaky looked quicker. So girl. Beaky. the big dumb lug. Then the leader. That seemed right. He could take out the three. Then figure out the smart one. Right? Right? His fingertips twitched, and he flicked both hands out at once. One toward the girl, and one for the one in desperate need of a serious nose job. The girl went down easily with a bolt of reddish pink eldritch energy to the temple, being so very close, falling limp and unconscious to the ground. The nosey one's eyes widened, and he was hit in the forehead with a similar bolt, eyes rolling back as he groaned and fell just as quickly. Out like a light. Morgan scrambled back, and barely moved out of the way of a powerful stomp from the big one as the leader yelled something he didn't understand. Not that it was in any other language, maybe. But because all he could hear was his own heartbeat, thudding in his ears like wardrums. He gave a sudden squeak as he was yanked up by his shirt, the fabric tearing as he was lifted to his feet and beyond.

Wild-eyed, he threw a flicker of fingers at the leader, and called out. "Ain't this some shit?" And the man... Couldn't help himself... He started to laugh. Uncontrollably. Horrible, horrible laughter, straight from the belly. He could do nothing but drop to his knees as he went on, clutching at his belly. The big one looked over for a minute, then back to Morgan, shaking him roughly.

"What did you do to him?!" he bellowed, before slamming the small acrobat into the stone wall. Morgan crumpled up in the giant's grip, and gasped for air, before lifting a hand and clenching his fist. Shards of stone flew from the very wall he had impacted, and cut at the big guy, slicing flesh thin and light and deep all at once. Morgan was dropped, and the other tried to get out of the storm of sharp stones. Morgan scrambled to his feet, and sneered. "You obviously can't see who the fuck I am!" though his voice shook, and was weak, it had the intended effect as the other's eyes went black, then rolled back. Bleeding and blinded, he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and going down like a sack of bricks.

One more. Still laughing. Morgan took up his bottle, somehow unbothered in the scuffle, and looked at the man, grimacing. "Stop being such a fucking dick, man." Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation. Such a tiny man taking down three people in such a short period of time. Whatever it was... This guy just couldn't stop laughing. Morgan took advantage and... Booked it. Straight away, clutching his bottle close. When he finally made it to the surface, he fell gratefully into some bushes, intending to hide a while. Really, it was too bad he hadn't looked for thorns first. For what felt like an eternity he sat stock still, willing the thorns away. Pleading. Begging. But eventually... He simply had to tear himself away, when he thought he was sufficiently safe. He stumbled away, and looked around, tipping the bottle up once more.

Where he went next, he didn't care. Everything hurt now. His eye was swelling shut. But at least he had his Kraken. He didn't bother with any more spells. Fuck it. There was a chance he would need them, it seemed. Who fucking knew? RhyDin was so fucking dangerous. And he made a mental note...

Don't go into those tunnels alone and unprepared.