Now you want to take me down, as if I even care

[greymatter]

Who| Dr. Grey and Aunamee [CLOSED]
What|  Reunion
Where|  Ice fields.
When|  Near the end of the third week.
Warnings| None.

He's surviving. He's surviving. When he'd noticed the sea birds circling above the glacier, he'd followed them and he'd been greatly rewarded for it. There were plenty of eggs for the taking, and he had even managed to pull down a foolish bird that had been particularly intent on protecting it's young. The cleanest bits of the nests themselves were added to his fire making supplies.

Keeping fed was one thing, but the cold was another. The brutal, brutal cold. At night, he dug into snow drifts and curled up inside of his sleeping bag within them as the wind picked up and the temperatures dropped. Even still, his nose was badly frost bitten, on it's way to black. And considering he couldn't feel his toes, it seemed likely they were much the same. The extra thick snow gloves he'd earned at the Cornucopia were only just saving his fingers.

As he trudges through the snow with the help of the cramp-ons, he sips back the contents of a cracked open bird egg.

Comments

[marcato]

Aunamee loves birds. The beating of their wings remind him of angels and sometimes insects, both born from death (halos, maggots), yet one bright and clean and the other soiled with decay. He does not anticipate running into another tribute while he follows their sweet sound but, ah, he does, and he slips behind a snow bank as the padding of footsteps draw closer. Aunamee notes the supplies, the harpoon, and he makes his decision without a moment's hesitation.

He makes his decision without seeing the other man's face.

He darts out from behind the snow drift, one arm curling for Grey's neck, the other one reaching out for the harpoon.

[greymatter]

Grey couldn't care either way about birds. They existed. They were. And here on this barren glacier, they were a vital source of sustenance.

The emptied egg drops from the scientist's hand as an arm suddenly loops around his neck, and someone is trying to relieve him of his weapon. The grip on his neck has re-opened the knife wound there, but he doesn't even notice, adrenaline suddenly surging through him.

[marcato]

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, his voice a purr against Grey's ear. "Let's keep this simple."

It's a lie. Acquiring weapons takes priority, of course, but there can't be many people left on this godforsaken glacier. Perhaps this man will be his first kill, he thinks. Perhaps he can take him deep into a crevasse, down down down where his telepathy still functions, and have him there. Oh, what a rush.

[greymatter]

"Well, well... sounds like interesting things are happening down here, hmm?"

His eyes fly wide as his breath catches in his throat, as his stomach drops to his feet, as a chill runs up his spine and stands the hair on the back of his neck on end.

It was impossible. Of course, what were the chances of someone else from his own world being taken here? Even more, what were the chances that it would be him? But he knows that voice. Could never forget it.

The sudden terror that grips him is nearly set overwhelm him when he realizes. When he remembers. No one here has any superhuman strength or powers they started with. Even playing field and all that. Only fair, right? There's no reason that he would be any exception.

A twitchy, lopsided grin spreading across his visage, he lifts a booted foot and stomps the heel of it firmly onto Aunamee's toes before reaching up to grip the arm about his neck and throw the other man over himself.

[marcato]

Pain.

Aunamee cannot remember the last time he felt it. Years. Two decades, almost. His supernatural abilities have encased a shield around his body, have kept cigarette ash from building in his lungs, have made stab wounds feel like pinpricks and death into more of an idea than a risk. The world is supposed to stay safe for him and it has for years and years. It kept him safe the first time he met Grey fifteen years ago, when he could hear every thought emanating from the boy's head and predict every attack. It had kept him safe when he snapped Grey's wrist like a twig.

It gives him nothing now.

The stomp is an explosion, a burst of agony so wild and so unpredictable that it fills his vision with white. He has been overtaken, he has lost, and when Grey pulls him up over his shoulders, he goes easily, slamming hard into the ground and immediately scrambling for purchase. Escape.

[greymatter]

He can see him now. The man who had walked into his home that day as if he had belonged. As if he had belonged everywhere and anywhere. The man that had stolen away his very first subordinate. The man that had struck fear into his twelve year old heart and spawned what became an undeniable terror of those like him.

So weak now.

With a giddy sounding laugh, Grey sweeps a sharp kick for the other man's side before he can gather his bearings.

[marcato]

He had been trying to flip himself around, to get his legs in a position where he could kick, but then Grey's foot is connecting with his ribcage and he loses his whole momentum, grunting and choking. He stretches out his arm instead, mad with fear and panic, and attempts to loop it around Grey's knee, to bring him down to his level.

Aunamee's eyes are open, but they do not see. They are wide and wild. They belong to an animal.

[greymatter]

In a way, they match Grey's behind those dark, tinted glasses. But Grey's do not reflect fear. This time, Aunamee is the deer and he is the wolf.

Aunamee successfully pulls the scientist off balance, driving him down onto one knee, but as he comes down so does the harpoon, aimed straight for the psychic's face.

[marcato]

And it hits. Not dead on, no, but it carves a gash through his cheek and up towards his forehead. The blood, oh, the blood it brings is incredible, the sensation of warmth somehow beating out the sensation of pain.

He is the deer. He is the prey. He's losing.

He elbows the harpoon and swings a frantic fist at Grey's head, following only the loosest of strategies, the strategy of not dying. He has never felt anything like this before, the surging (and fluttering) in his chest, the pulsing ocean in his ears. He has never been so afraid.

[greymatter]

Grey doesn't need to be psychic to see the terror in Aunmee's expression, even with the dark glasses hiding his face. Fear is something he's grown familiar with. Accustomed to. Not that of his own, but that of others.

The sight of Aunamee stricken with such fear of him, gushing such brilliant red, gives him so much of a rush that he nearly doesn't feel the fist connect with his skull. His enemy is beneath him.

The blow has dazed him slightly, making him sluggish in bringing the harpoon back around for another strike.

[marcato]

He uses that opportunity, that brief window between one blow and another, to kick out his legs and slide himself backwards, away from this madman who giggles and twitches and defies order, beautiful order with his every breath. He struggles to his feet, the ice (and his fear) betraying his balance.

And then he starts to run.

There is no thought involved. There is only the sound of his pulse ringing in his ears.

[greymatter]

The harpoon hits icy snow where Aunamee had been just moments before and as the other man rises, the scientist uses it to bring himself to his feet. Thrilled laughter escapes him as he takes off after the fleeing man, both of them across the barren landscape of the glacier.

But crampons were not designed for running. They were designed for stability. And his pack is heavy with supplies necessary for survival.

[marcato]

That's when Aunamee realizes that the sharp pain in his foot isn't going away.

With the adrenaline in his system and the seething pain in is face, it had been easy to ignore, but now that he's running, it's all too obvious. His foot was not simply crushed under Grey's -- it was torn. His boot is riddled with holes, and he can feel a wetness inside his socks, under his feet, squelching between his toes. His run becomes a limp -- for one second, then another -- before he forces his foot to hold steady, to carry him forward despite the impossible pain.

[greymatter]

As the distance between them increases, the scientist finally accepts that catching up is an impossibility. He slows to a stop, panting and gasping for air. The temperature of it sends him into a coughing fit that's soon broken up by fits of laughter.

Oh, but he's lost him. He looks up to watch the the last of the retreating man, enveloped welcomingly by snow whipped up in a cyclone.

But maybe not for good. There couldn't be many left in the arena now. And Aunamee was leaving a very distinct trail behind him. Smirking at the sight of the bloody bootprints, he begins to follow them.