Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter Sixty-Seven | Third World

That got the man's attention, he swiped a tongue over his top teeth in a predatory manner as he dropped the leg he had rested on the other, and leant forward. "Thas' far more intimate than what I imagined, Gretel."

"Intimate?" Hansel deadpanned, suddenly reflecting on his decision to ask this particular madman. But he'd already signed his own death-warrant as when he stepped back; Jakob followed.

"What do I get in return?" The slightly taller man enquired, slinging an arm across Hansel's shoulder and cocking his head in wonder. Unlike the others, who cut their hair with any utensil they could find, Jakob was growing his out. And currently it was sloppily thrown into a bun at the back of his head, wisps of dark blond hair falling all around; ultimately tickling Hansel's cheek.

He tried to pull back, but Jakob kept a firm grip. So Hansel had no other option but to respond, "Company from someone who won't run away screaming?"

Jakob raised his brow, eyeing him curiously before laughing. "Fine, but ya better be good company or I'll be demandin' a return." Hansel tried not to shudder at the thought.

After a short while of resting, everyone piled back into the vans. This time there was an addition of Jakob, who plopped down right beside Hansel without any reservations. Bjorn looked in the mirror, a semblance of a confused expression on his face before he focused back on driving, whilst Valentin openly showed his.

"Gretel and I are close friends now." Jakob stated, and because the man was far from stupid, he knew he was indirectly snubbing Valentin who had, intentionally or not, been trying to get closer to Hansel since Freya was no longer in the picture.

Jakob was a pain in the ass, and one Valentin tended to give a lot of slack to because he couldn't be bothered to deal with the maniac, but it was more of an annoyance now that he was smiling. Although Hansel had joked about being good company, what the other man clearly needed was just an ear to natter to. Jakob talked about a variety of things, right down to his favourite foods before everything went to shit.

Valentin or Bjorn would chime in every now and then, or Hansel if he really had to. And because of this the journey felt relatively short. The next time they stopped, it was the next day and whilst Hansel was eating, Jakob yanked him away so they could begin the training. In the location they'd chosen to stop, there were a few Rotters roaming, but not enough for them to be concerned about.

Jakob looked around the second floor of the dilapidated building, and made a sound of revelation when he came across a boarded up balcony. He started yanking the wood off before looking over to Hansel expectantly. So he had no choice but to help. And once they were out of the way, Jakob nodded his head proudly as they stepped out. It was a small balcony, and not all that high, but it came them a clear view of their surroundings. And more importantly, the three or four Rotters that were sluggishly moving about.

"I only have a few specific throwing knives, the rest I use for close-combat or just lob in hopes that they hit." Jakob revealed, plucking out two black slim blades which were around a foot long, with loops on the hilt. He spun them both on his index finger before catching them between his thumb and forefinger.

"These are sharper than your average"

"How come?" Hansel asked as he was transfixed by the man's fluid movements with the blades. Jakob expressed a toothy grin, "Because I made them that way. Although normal ones are sharp, I needed ones that can pierce through a skull."

"Ah- right."

Jakob laughed at his reaction, ultimately drawing the attention of the nearest Rotters who groaned and stumbled closer. The asshole then flicked one of the knives towards Hansel, who fumbled to catch it. "Don't fear the knife, become one with it."