Fragile Hearts | Party Poison x Male Reader

1⋅A clap with a 'Crow

I squint my eyes lightly, trying to fix the radio as carefully as possible and a pleased sigh escapes my lips at the result I achieve. It might be fixed soon, thankfully. We do have another radio, but this is the best one and hearing the white noise blocking every few words Doctor Death says isn't nice when listening to him is one of the only few things we have to get rid of the boredom with. We just need to remember, now, to not let the radio too close to the edge of the furniture. Even more around War.

The sound of a car stopping by outside catches my attention and I smile at the thought it might be War and Sour finally coming back. I stand up from my chair, cleaning my hands on a cloth in the way to the window, but it falls to the ground as soon as I notice how mistaken I was.

It can't be.

Not now; I'm alone.

There won't even be enough time for others to arrive in case I ask for help.

From a white van with BL/Ind's logo on the side, a lot of Dracs leave it, guns in hands and commanded by a Scarecrow. I knew they had been looking for us lately after they found out about our frequent invasions to the city to get things for Chow Mein, but I didn't think things would get to this fucking point. I thought all the wanted posters glued around meant fucking nothing. How in the hell did they even find out where our base fucking is?

I almost fall to the ground while running to grab my gun and it's the most I'm able to do before the doors are thrown open; the 'Crow walks in with a couple of Dracs and my heart almost stops when he points at me.

"Skull Candy!" The 'Crow growls and the two Dracs point their guns to me immediately.

The front door is blocked, so the first thing I can think of is about running towards the back one, shooting at the Dracs in the way – the lack of stability doesn't allow me to have a good aim, the shots helping mainly just with delaying them; a good thing, at least. There is another room before reaching the back door and, apparently, only the Scarecrow is still after me once I step outdoors, for whatever reason.

"Fuck you!" I scream like if it would help and finally stop, turning to shoot him. He's only one, after all.

Bad choice.

He doesn't even seem intimidated, aiming his rifle at me, and all my burst of confidence does is to declare my defeat. At first, I don't even notice what's wrong; there's just a light pressure before the piercing, burning pain on my shoulder only manifests itself, making me immediately let go of the gun, gasping with it. Holy shit, I'm fucked. The first reaction I have is to put myself into running in a zig zag motion to make myself a more difficult aim until I can at least reach my bike.

Fitting the key in the right place is terribly messy using my least dominant arm and while feeling a terrible pain that's enough to get me disoriented, still, I manage to do so.

The pain is slowly forced to just become a simple detail in the background as I have no other choice than to use the injured arm to drive because, in this moment, the pain is nothing compared to the fact I might not die but be fucking turned into one of these pigs.

All the shots eventually turn into just muffled sounds in the background and, glancing back a last time, I am able to catch a last glance of our base – what used to be an abandoned convenience store – filled with Dracs looking for what they will never get.

For once, I hope War Head and Sour Patch don't come back home so soon.

I continue for as long as I can, but, inevitably, riding the bike becomes unbearable – the pain becomes far too strong for me to keep using my arm like this and I can barely process any information, only trying to stop the bike before anything bad happens. It doesn't go so well, the bike falling to the ground, but I've gotten priorities right now – to run for my life is the main one of them, so I continue my way by the roadside, clutching onto my hurt arm.