Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Thirty-Nine | Fourth World

But this signal wasn't for their benefit.

The whistle came from just in front of the targets, so their attention was understandably fixed directly on the shrubbery both Thorn and Finch hid behind. Hawk's men immediately went on the attack, steadily approaching them. Which was vital for the rest of Thorn's team, who lurked in their blind-spots. They jumped to their feet and lobbed the pouches through the air, focusing their aim on the back of the men's heads.

Even when one missed, instead striking a man's shoulder, the damage had still been done. The loosely tied material opened and with a 'puff', the vibrantly coloured pollen reacted with the winter's air. Like dust, it went everywhere. And as the men turned, they were met head-on by the powder, and even automatically inhaled.

Their demands swiftly turned into cries as the reaction took effect. But the attacking team weren't done yet. Finch and Thorn followed the actions of their brethren and tossed their own pollen pouches; even more of the highly-staining toxic orange powder hit the men. They hissed as they scratched profusely at their faces, rubbing their eyes and making it even worse. Some hacked, trying to spit out what now lined the back of their throats.

Their heads lifted and through bleary vision they watched as a handful of figures quickly emerged from the densely packed shrubbery that covered the forest's floor. They immediately attempted to defend themselves; squinting through streaming eyes and wheezing out quick-fire orders to one another.

"Save your arrows." Thorn instructed Finch and lunged forwards, taking down the nearest man. Opposite them, on the other side of Hawk's men, the rest of the team joined in. The only one keeping his distance was their injured comrade who had previously suffered an arrow to the shoulder. The same man who continued to press on even though his skin had visibly grown paler as time went by.

A man staggered towards Finch, looking horrific and like he had suffered a fake-tan incident. In his hand he wielded a knife, grasping it as tightly as he could. Finch smartly avoided it, shooting to the side of the man and smacking his foot into the back of the man's leg. His opponent was moving far slower than normal, and suddenly being dead-legged wasn't something he had prepared for. His leg collapsed under him and he fell to the ground.

Finch stole his weapon and used it to smack against the back of the man's neck. His large body fell forwards and lay motionless on the ground.

Around him, the remainder of the pitiful men had been easily taken care of by Thorn and the others.

"That's some potent stuff," Thorn acknowledged as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Squinting lightly as the pollen still swarmed around them.

Finch scoffed knowingly. When they had been training, Finch had taken a keen interest in what was growing within their new terrain. Whilst Thorn was dismissive and thought his hobby was dull, Finch had focused on a few plants he hadn't seen before. They were large and attractive, but when he had looked closer he could see the amount of dead bugs which lay within the centre.

Many ideas had sprung to mind when he experimented with the different flowers, but he also worried that if Hawk or his men heard about the capabilities of such plants, they would try to use them for themselves. So at the time, Finch didn't act upon his own impulses. But that didn't last long, as working so closely with his new team, he felt determined to do anything to ensure their survival.

"None of our own," came the confirmation as one of their team walked around the shell of what was once a shelter.

As soon as they continued on, they had to stop again. They had reached the centre of the clan, where people typically loitered around happily. But on this occasion, there was no one around. And those that were, were no longer breathing. Everyone had expected to see warriors from either side clashing, but there was absolute silence. Whatever Hawk's orders were, he seemingly had no intention of instructing his men to storm in like bulls in a china-shop.