Six of Crows One-shots

The war of one

Major Character Death

There was no better conman then that of the world, with its mirages of grandeur and safety. Love, warmth, the betterment of tomorrow. Fools gold. Nobody knew that better than Kaz Brekker. Even still, he was somehow surprised by the immense pain that crawled its way through his conscious like his blood had become knives, and he was being carved from the inside alive.

"Heh... don't you die on us yet." The voice brought sharp pangs of fresh hell into his senses. His stomach felt cold like refrigerator jello, icy pricks moving along his skin. He'd been poisoned, the realization was a dull, unnerving thing.

"Your voice... is nauseating." Kaz spoke in a barely audible whisper, his body was in agony with the effort it took to speak.

Kaz has a feeling the person sneered, the aura of smugness grew thick in the air. A hand clutched his jaw sharply, jerking his head to look up. That was useless, Kaz couldn't see more then smears of hazy colors all merging into nothing. However, within that moment, it was as if Kaz had been forced back into his body, and the could feel the pain in his nerve ends tenfold.

"Oh, boy.... don't worry, we'll give you plenty of time to chit chat, very soon." The sickly hand, burned and scarred, scraped its biting flesh across his jaw, Kaz's body shook horribly under the touch, his skin crawled and Kaz felt himself pull back, repulsed.
A crooked laugh boomed from the dark.

"So the Dirtyhands is afraid of touch? How endearing... I can't wait to learn what other little secrets you try to hide behind those gloves." Kaz felt his head roll as the man roughly pulled his head down when he let go.
Kaz shuddered, his body felt like a painful knot of nerves and weakened muscles, unable to be used. Time was worse off then his vision, and he sat in the void dark, his mind wandering to escape the pain, the silence.

He daydreamed about Inej, imagined being beside her, somewhere out at sea. The water spraying against the boat, the rush of the waves dull. Compared to her laugh, that smile... it was nothing, and rotted flesh became whole and warm within her hands.
Saints, he should have gone with her when she asked. What had kept him? Paperwork? The possibility of Kruge? Loyalty to a gang that had sold him out on a number of occasions? He was a fool.

He should have gone with her. His hands shook, the bare skin looking sickly... a faint layer of sweat covered his palm. He might not ever see her again.

He wanted to tell her...

He wanted to tell her that she was too good for him, that she deserved more... wanted to tell her he would have followed her anywhere she asked his company, told her how beautiful and dangerous and amazing she was, would have thanked her, and apologized... he would have told her he loved her.
He didn't even know if he'd see her again... he most likely wouldn't. He'd had started making an unfortunate habit of falling off the map without informing anyone. Wayward jobs, dinner parties at Wylan's, sometimes sneaking off to restaurants he reserved for only him and Inej...

Nobody would know until several days that something wasn't right, by then it'd probably be too late. He knew the statistics, and his hands clenched in the dark. Even still... would they even bother coming? His gang wouldn't, too risky, too little information. Inej wouldn't be back for weeks yet still. Kaz hung his head as the knowledge only hollowed out his fatigued body further.

His surroundings became clearer as it finally seemed whatever they drugged him with was dying out. The wall and floor were padded and a dirty white, stained with blood splattering. There wasn't a window to speak of, and the only solid object appeared to be the heavy iron door. He could only assume he was in a mental ward, of which, there was 3 in Ketterdam, 6 overall in Kerch. But who was to say he was even still on the island?