FALLEN WARRIORS

VII: Three Seconds of Dead Air

07;
THREE SECONDS OF DEAD AIR
The Rolling Stones―Doom and Gloom

"Then I suggest you to start addressing me by the name Deucalion, dear," the failed experiment shifts his appealing appearance back to his normal self, though the scars still visible and his red eyes changing into its maroon colour.

"You'll always be Eltham." Ilithyia hasn't lowered her sword, still apprehensive being in the same place as the Annihilator. "And nothing else."

His hollow laugh fills in the eerily quiet tunnel. "No matter. As long as you call me by my name."

"What do you want?" She retorts, spilling as much venom into the word 'you' as though talking with him isn't worth her time.

"To talk." He replies in a matter-of-factly, walking towards her. "And in private, Warrior."

"Don't you go near her." A sudden bold Minho appears with his machete pressed against Eltham's hard chest, surprising everybody including himself.

Ilithyia snorts mockingly, dropping her arm that holds her sword, putting it behind her back to place it back on her scabbard. "I can take care of myself, sweetheart. I'm not a damsel in distress."

"Got yourself a beau already, Warrior?" Eltham snickers in amusement, gentle but intimidating at the same time.

"'Beau'?" Minho furrows his brows, not because he doesn't know the word, nor because the word is uncommon. It is the fact that nobody uses the word anymore. "How shucking old are you?"

"Handsome, funny and protective," Eltham continues his taunting, "quite a boy you got here."

"Oh, please," Ilithyia grumbles with no trace of amusement in her tone; in fact, quite the apposite, she's irked. "He's sixteen."

"Seventeen!" Minho corrects, emphasizing each syllables. "And maybe almost eighteen but you never know, maybe I'm nineteen."

"Boo hoo," Ilithyia sneers, rolling her eyes. She sets her gaze on Eltham once again, ignoring the miffed look Minho's currently giving her. "You want to talk, let's talk."

The corner of Eltham's chapped lips lift, a menacing smirk plastered on his deformed face. He turns to Minho, "you heard the princess," he shoves the blade of Minho's weapon out of his way, just by a flick of his hands. "I assure you, you'll have your girlfriend in one piece once I'm done talking with her."

The Asian growls, "I need her alive not because I'm schucking infatuated by her, but I need her so that we can get the hell out of this freaking tunnel."

"Have it your way, boy." Eltham walks past him, the same dark smirk still taunting his face as he approaches Ilithyia. "Let's go farther than here to have more privacy to ourselves, shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer―nor he expects one, he strides past her into the long narrow tunnel, back where he came from. She swivles on her heel, turning to follow him as they walk further and further from the Subjects and Jorge.

After making sure that they're out the earshot, Eltham halts almost immediately. Fortunately, Ilithyia finds her footing and doesn't have the privilege to ram into his back.

"You were right," he speaks without turning to face the violet eyed girl, "but you were wrong as well. Maybe I do want revenge but I want justice on top of it all."

"So?" Ilityia promts, getting more irk by the seconds she spends her time with him when she can lead the Minho and his gang out of the tunnel.

"Impatient one, aren't you, Warrior?" He chuckles at his own words, shaking his head slightly.