Tick, Tock- A Chaos Gang Story/AU

10: Traitor

Games POV

CW// Sickness

The world was a blur of pain.

The terrible burning sensation he had felt before had dulled to a throbbing pain in his face, accompanied by the same in his limbs.

He kept his eyes closed, struggling for breath.

Games could smell blood.

The last thing he remembered...

Games searched his foggy brain for a hint of what had happened.

The food.

It tasted... weird, so I stopped eating.

Triple- she-

Games' eyes opened sharply, and he flinched at the harsh light.

Triple tried to poison me.

Games lifted his head shakily, struggling to find his surroundings.

Where am I?

It looked like the dark alleyway the rogues lived in, but it was skinnier.

Trash surrounded him in piles, and as he shifted, something sharp stabbed into the fur on his stomach.

It was nighttime- the moon was the only light he could see by.

I need to get...

That- that Triple.

His mind snarled with anger and disgust as he thought of the purple and tan- haired she-cat.

Her grin- her knowing grin as she handed him food.

I should've expected it. Games grimaced as a stab of pain shot through his chest. I should've expected it from the start.

His lip curled.

She's a traitor.

Games slowly curled his claws into the dirt under him.

Every inch of his body seemed to burn- burn with pain and burn with hate.

He pushed with his shaky back legs, tail straightening as he strained to stand up. He gasped with the effort and fell back, now in a sitting position.

He snarled internally at his weakness- wracking his brain until he realized.

The poison. He mentally facepalmed himself, letting out an annoyed grumble. You're weak because of the poison.

"Hey."

Games flinched back, stiffening. His muscles screamed with agony as he staggered to look around him. He growled at the dark around him, scanning the shadows.

"Who's there?" He snarled hoarsely.

There wasn't an answer for a moment, then the voice growled, annoyed.

"You're asking this while in our territory?"

Games realized his mistake, but shook his head slowly.

"I don't know how I got here." He said, flattening his ears. "It's not really my fault."

He tried to ignore the part where the voice had said "our."

The voice seemed to pause again, pondering.

Then it let out a sigh.

A person stepped forward, arms crossed.

He was tall, and skinny. He wore a dark grey shirt, with black pants and brown, torn up boots. On his hands were old leather gloves, and his tan arms were littered with scratches and bruises. His fluffy brown hair was pushed out of his face, which had brown eyes set into it that looked at him suspiciously. His lip, which was curled slightly, had a long semi-healed scar that trailed across it.

"You don't know how you got here?" He snarked, voice pitched with an accent Games hadn't heard before.

"I don't." Games shook his head, meeting the person's eyes. "Last thing I knew, I had almost died."

The man's eyebrows raised.

"What's your name?" He asked slowly, peering at Games still with those sharp brown eyes.

"Games." Games said reluctantly.

The man smiled. "Nice to meet you, Games."

He put one of his gloved hands to his chest, and beamed. With his other hand, he made a large sweeping motion.

Suddenly, three more figures walked out of the shadows.

"I'm Henwy, and we are the Regulars."

*braces for impact*