mortala || stiles and the avengers (CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING)

chapter twenty-six {part four}

</3

friday, august 8
beacon hills, california
third person pov

There were always moments when time slowed. When the Earth stopped revolving and you're stuck watching things go by in slow motion. It made it easy to realize the mistakes, to feel the horror that you messed up.

Stiles fucking hated when things get slow. He felt sluggish pulling the trigger, waiting for the delayed boom of sound, and watching as it hit its target. It impacted into the skull of the creature and Stiles watched as gore and bone splintered at the impact.

It sent the 'lord' back a few steps, though he didn't look for assistance gaining his composure as he shook off the fact that he had a bullet in his brain like it was like dust.

"Bow."

"No-" Thomas' voice was cut off by a pained sound as his captor pressed sharp nails against his bloodied  shirt. Pain erupted across Stiles chest and he struggled to stay standing as it grew white hot before fading to an ache.

"Your pet does not know how to keep quiet."

"Jesus," Tony stepped in front of Stiles, stopping him from doing something like charging and getting Thomas and himself killed, "What happened to the whole 'we come in peace' aliens? Oh! Or the ones in that one movie," he snapped his fingers as the creatures simultaneously tilted their heads, "with 'the claaaaaaaawww.' You know what I'm talking about?"

"Tony," Stiles warned because no one in this field seemed keen on small talk besides Tony, but the billionaire simply waved it aside.

"Wait a minute, kid, I'm getting to my favorite kind of aliens," a slight pause, "the dead kind."

The first head rolled at Nat's feet, and Stiles realized that he hadn't even noticed her sneaking away during Tony's tirade that was now quite obviously a diversion, but it worked and she darted away before any of the elders could retaliate.

Though the eyes were still blinking, the twitching body said that there wasn't much these things could do without an attached head. Without the cloak, they looked startlingly normal. The elder looked very much like a human and what a lot of people imagined elves to be. The features were slightly too long and far more angular than anyone Stiles had ever seen. Cheekbones protruded from its thin, almost translucent skin, as did the sharp triangle of a chin that looked odd with human lips, nose, and those pointed ears.

It's amber eyes were glaring and full of hate as the head tried to move though it was quickly crushed as the two sides clashed together.

Stiles cut through one of the elders with his long knife, watching as the mostly severed head tilted and caused the alien to become unbalanced as it collapsed to the floor. It wasn't enough.

It would never be enough and with the rage of a wild animal cornered. He straddled the body, taking the green gore covered blade and carefully cut down where there should be a sternum but instead was another cage of ribs that caused the odd shape. He tore through the ribs, forcing his hand through the broken bones to grasp the dark green heart which was almost half the size of a human's heart.

"The sheriff you killed," Stiles snarled, refusing to blink in the fear that he would be forced to endure the image of his father's corpse burning across his vision, "That was your mistake."