Page 6 of Black Onyx
“Fuck.” I hear him curse, his eyes worriedly scanning the broken side of my face.
I salute him because I can, and fighting makes me happy before I turn just in time to snap the knee of the guy charging me, and in the process, I get a glancing hit from one of the other team members on my thigh.
That’s going to leave one hell of a bruise.
This is fun.
It doesn’t take long before I get bored. They’re all too predictable and not at all challenging enough. So I stop playing and decide to end it quickly, leaving the remaining three members with a broken jaw, dislocated shoulder, and several broken ribs.
I spit out a mouth full of blood before starting to jump up and down, adrenaline still coursing through me and the Darkness demanding a better fight.
“What the fuck!?” Loki exclaims. “How the fuck did you do that?”
I keep my emotionless expression in place as I watch my uncle approach the pile of groaning men on the floor. I turn to face them.
All of them, even Storm, pales as they catch sight of my battered face. By now, I imagine that it’s turning a lovely shade of purple and judging from the tightness in my cheek, it's swelling pretty nicely too.
“What?” I ask as they keep staring. I reach up to poke the cut on my lip. Eh, it's not that bad.
The pain is kind of addicting, actually.
“Why did you let that punch through?” Rival suddenly asks, his bright orange eyes sharp.
The other's eyes snap to him.
“I didn’t.” I shrug.
“Yes, you did,” He replies, not letting it go.
I cross my arms and stare him down defiantly. I don’t have to explain anything to these fuckers.
“Seriously, Farren. No broken bones!” Magnus says, coming up behind me.
“She broke bones!” Mayhem interrupts, sounding impressed despite himself.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know? No-one told me!” I retort, still shaking out my arms and bouncing.
He watches me, knowing that it still isn’t enough.
“Go sort your face out.” He orders and I nod, jogging over to my bag and not missing the wide berth that everyone is giving me.
Sweet.
Chapter Three
Igrab my bag before remembering I needed to ask Magnus what to do with the letter for my father from the Headmaster. Fishing it out of the end pocket of my bag, I sling the strap over my shoulder and then jog back over to where Magnus is still talking to the team.
“Magnus, what do I do with this?”
“What is it?”
“A letter from the head to father,” I reply.
“Get rid of it.” He answers immediately, and I grin.
I nod in reply, ignoring the confused look the team share with each other, and then jog towards the locker room to sort out my face and store my weapons. The locker rooms are clean and spacious, with a central area where the lockers and sinks are and then either side male and female changing areas and showers. I find an empty locker easily, and before I put my bag of weapons in, I pull out some C4 and a detonator, a small bomb that won’t do much damage but will get my point across if someone tries to mess with my locker and then pull out my first aid kit too. I place my bag inside and set up the bomb to go off if anyone tries to get in the locker before shutting the door with a satisfied grin.
There is a line of sinks, with mirrors above them on the same wall as the door, and I walk over to them. Laying out the first aid kit, I search through it, pulling out a needle and thread and quickly threading the needle. Unfortunately, my earlier suspicions are confirmed when I look in the mirror and see that not only is my cheek a lovely shade of purple already, but my lip does, in fact, need stitches. Usually, I wouldn’t have to worry about stitching it as by now both my cheek and lip should’ve healed, but thanks to the aftereffects of my father's last punishment coursing through me, I won’t be healing any time soon. I will heal slower than a human until it's finally out of my system.
