The Lords against DJ

DJ in the Corner

Tears of desperation rolled down DJ's cheek, he thrashed in the brutal hold of the gangster around his tiny frame while small hands trembled over the larger one holding him in a headlock, making him cry. DJ was, undoubtedly, on the verge of a breakdown. Considering the mental state of the detective and his previous panicked encounters, the boy had already exhausted all of his courage, positivity, hope and composure stored up for an emergency.

It was just a matter of time before his body system would automatically bid him goodbye before shutting down and throw him into the world of unconsciousness.

Perhaps the man before his eyes was the only fact that still made him squirmy and fight.

There on the dirty ground was lord Yael, hurt and bleeding, dropped to his lowest and covered in a noticeable wound. Dark stain conquered the vast expanse of his chest, and he coughed miserably, trying to open his eyes and look up in the direction of that meek sound surrounded by roars of cruelty. Yael's shallow breathing and his trembling figure predicted his deteriorating condition as well as skyrocketed DJ's anxiety for older's safety.

The boy couldn't help but blame himself for what had transpired; the burden of putting the lord of Pyro under such circumstances felt heavy, and the feeling gnawed at his chest, making it hard to breathe. Crying and wiggling, DJ muttered a series of calls for Yael to hear, but all he delivered was a blubbering of incoherencies, giving a perfect chance to the gangster behind to bark a laugh.

"He won't hear you, little princess......I didn't leave him enough able to do so," he laughed obnoxiously loud, piercing his voice through DJ's skull to his brain, as he clutched the younger even tighter. Surely, a bruise was on its way where Chevy grabbed him harshly, a moan of protest and agony left DJ's parted lips, only to receive an amused shake of the head and a cruel chuckle.

Chevy was one scoundrel for what he initiated with Yael and his little wife, the huge man was proud for he had accomplished something no one could imagine.......a second and successful chance of trouncing the man he considered an enemy. There was no other way to imagine it anyway; it was the lord of Pyro after all, the son of Ezekiel and the heir of Doukas, who had been brought to his knees.

The dizziness of such execution was worth dancing for Chevy.

Meanwhile, Orson and Lilliana watched the show of devastation from afar and from the safety of their crew that had finally gathered around them after a while. Whispers about the Hale couple filled the environment, people talked bad and good, and all that Orson and Lilliana could do was witness the unfolding show without a word.

True to her genuine care and fondness for the lovely Japheth, Lilliana was more concerned than any other around them. The way those villain hands of Chevy were wrapped around the younger, the way he breathed near Japheth's ear disgustingly, and the way he mocked the tiny wife after hurting her husband was beyond criticism for Lilliana.

If she could, then she would have killed that man on the spot for even nearing a sweetheart like the wife.

Being helpless and worried, Lilliana tightened her hold over Orson's bicep, her pleading eyes asked him to do something in his power and stop whatever was happening, but the chief had contradicting thoughts.

Orson Wellman wouldn't have stayed glued in his place if the man with the machete didn't look like bad news for him and his crew. Not to forget the status Eugene was addressed with, that showcased some elite level, Orson wasn't aware of and didn't want to cross any line had it come to his involvement in the matter. The dewy eyes of his beautiful wife urged him to jump in to at least try and work things up, but then the security of his own caravan and the people he was responsible for also reigned him back.