(Archived) Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

Strike the Past - Chapter 1

Got another story (a two-parter) inspired by one of thedanniewannabe's drawings on Tumblr, who also goes by Notartisticdraw on here, mind the warnings and enjoy~

Chapter Warnings: Blood (marrow), descriptions of injuries, swearing

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Rurik looked up from his phone, checking to make sure he had the right building; it looked run down and abandoned to him.... then again, this would be the exact kind of building the sleaze bags he was dealing with would use. No matter, they would get what was coming to them in time.

Sliding through a hole in the shoddy chain-link fence and approaching the nearest door of the dilapidated warehouse, he reached for the rusty handle and pulled; the fact that the door made no noise as he opened it combined with the dusty footprints littering the floor inside gave credence to the place not being as deserted as it appeared.

Stepping cautiously through the doorway into the empty corridor, Rurik began his search while idly brushing his thumb along the handle of the knife concealed under his jacket. Pressing himself against a wall as he approached a corner, the skeleton leaned around it to find another wide hallway with a couple of storage lockers littered about. Stopping at the first doorway, a quick perusal yielded a mountain of crates and a broken-down forklift; as tempted as he was to browse the contents, he had more important matters to handle.

The next three lockers were as devoid of life as the first; just more piles of dusty old crates, packing and shipping materials, and grimy footprints strewn about like a chaotic jumble of step diagrams. Stalking toward the fourth doorway, he began wondering if he was wasting his time coming here; that there really was no one here or this was some stupid prank.

If it was the latter, there would definitely be hell to pay.

Huffing to himself as he rounded the next opening, Rurik's feet and soul stuttered to a stop; amid the stacked crates, loose two-by-fours, and stray twine, there was a wide-open space in the center where a lone figure sat bound to a chair.

"Lotus," the skeleton breathed, darting into the room.

Striding forward, his rage silently built with each detail he took in; the missing jacket and scarf, the sporadic trails of marrow leading to the chair, his partner's slumped posture, the scorch marks tearing through their right shoulder and boot, the visible cracks and scrapes littering their skull, and the dark stain spreading along the left side of their shirt alluding to at least one broken rib.

Kneeling down in front of the monster, Rurik cupped their jaw to inspect the damage and immediately wanted to break something; Lotus' left cheek sported a sizeable bruise that had swollen to the point of forcing the socket shut. A thin streak of marrow trailed down their chin as well, likely from whatever caused the bruise. Swiping his thumb gently across the drying streak, the action roused the previously unconscious skeleton; the smaller's right eye socket cracked open as he groaned wearily, "... Rurik...?"

Rurik grit his teeth, seething not only at the tentative hope in the smaller's voice but also the underlying hint of fear that their guess was wrong.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Rurik could barely restrain himself as he cradled Lotus' beaten face in his palms, growling softly, "Who did this to you?"

"I... I don't know... it was a group of people and monsters I didn't recognize... they seemed like they knew you, though," the smaller mumbled around shallow breaths, grimacing in recollection, "They ganged up on me after we separated... said they wanted to know how long it would take you to realize I was gone."

Rurik felt a pang of guilt at the information; if he had been willing to stick around at that damn book store while Lotus was browsing instead of telling them to meet him at the nearby burger joint when they were done, this probably wouldn't have happened. Even worse, it took him nearly an hour to even consider texting them to ask what was taking so long and another half hour to get a location out of whoever had been taunting him through his partner's phone.

"Rurik...?"

Jarred from his self-criticism, Lotus' sightless right socket was directed toward him with a look of apprehension. Thankful the smaller monster couldn't see how upset he was, Rurik heaved a sigh as he pulled out his knife and moved around to the back of the chair, "Hang on, we're getting out of here."

Lotus gave a tired hum, letting their skull droop as Rurik began cutting into the twine binding their wrists together behind the chair. His weapon made quick work of the bonds, allowing him to move back around to the material holding their legs in place.

Carefully pulling away the twine from his partner's ankles, Rurik's eye lights fell on the scorched boot, "Think you can stand on your own?"

Lotus shook his skull dejectedly, massaging his sore wrists in his lap, " Probably not... I wasn't able to put weight on my right side earlier... I doubt it's gotten better since then."

"I'll carry you then," Rurik decided, getting a dissenting glower from the injured monster that turned into a wince. He sighed, "Trust me, it'll get us out of here faster; I didn't see anyone else here, but that doesn't mean that won't change."

"Fine, just make it quick," Lotus grumbled, resigning himself to what would undoubtedly become a bridal carry given the nature of his injuries.

Sheathing his knife and slipping his arms around Lotus' back and under their knees, he lifted the smaller while being careful to avoid any damaged areas, eliciting a gasp from his cargo at the sudden disorientation. Feeling a shaky left hand grasp his jacket for support, Rurik turned to the now-blocked doorway.

"Lookit this boys, the Great Rurik finally came to play with his old friends," a blonde-haired man wearing a beat-up baseball cap, Lotus' black jacket, and scarf sneered to the group of five behind them.

Rurik immediately recognized him; Jay was an old accomplice from his younger, more reckless years. Together, along with the men and monsters at their back, they used to wreak havoc on the city before he got his act together and decided he wanted more out of life. The gang initially wasn't able to accept his decision to leave, but a few good beatings and a couple of knife wounds had put them in their place... or so he thought.

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Word Count: 1,060