Unholy!

The Hunting Party

Note: Suki is turning up the heat again :3
TW: #blood #violence

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>>Who can stand before his indignation? and who can abide in the fierceness of his anger? his fury is poured out like fire, and the rocks are thrown down by him.<<

Nahum 1,6

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The door doesn't open, it detonates. Sukuna steps through as if he owns the damn blast. Inside, the oval table becomes a battlefield when a dozen figures leap to their feet. Hands fly to weapons, breath is drawn in, the metallic click of safeties being released echoes through the room, and it feels like a symphony of death about to begin. For an instant everything seems to be on the brink of chaos, until they see him. Then, everything stops.

„Hold your fire!", comes the order from the end of the table, where the eldest man sits like stone. He wears a grim expression, marked by age and authority and his eyes are locked on Sukuna. Not in shock. Not in confusion. But in something far more unsettling: familiarity.

He raises a hand towards the guards and shouts in a sharp voice, „No one pulls the trigger!"

A few hesitate, their eyes flicker between themself and the old man, but the command holds and finally one by one, they step back, lowering their weapons and the room exhales like a tide ebbing back. Only one guy keeps his gun half-raised. It's the guard nearest the entrance.

Sukuna's mouth curves into something feral as he strides further into the room. He pretends to not even notice the weapon aimed at him, but Megumi is pretty sure that's just for show.

The boy slips in behind, the shadow to Sukuna's flame. He moves quietly, every step measured, careful not to attract any attention, but no one spares him a glance anyway, because all eyes – all vigilance – are fixed on Sukuna, and Megumi prefers it that way.

The air feels like a noose tightening with each breath. The tension is prickling so thick he swears he can taste it. No one moves. No one dares to inhale too sharply. As if someone had pressed a pause button. As if the entire room is holding itself still, because every wrong movement could be the last.

Sukuna is the only one who likes it that way. He literally savors the tension, the stares and every flicker of wariness. He grins wide, like a man arriving at his own funeral just to mock the mourners.

The rest of the world seems to be stuck in a kind of waiting mode and the only thing Megumis hears is his own pulse hammering inside his ears.

Still, it's a deceptive calm. The threat hangs in the air and Megumi fears that one single mistake could end up with their entrails decorating the walls, strung just like the antique sabers in these gold-framed display cases on both sides of the room. What he can't understand: why hasn't that happened yet? Why are they still able to breathe at all?

It's only when a low chuckle comes from Sukuna's direction, as the man makes his way over to the guard with the raised gun and lays a hand on his shoulder, that Megumi remembers who the real danger here truly is...

„Did you pray today?" Sukuna's voice sounds low. Casual. It slices the stillness apart but the tension only deepens. The words hang quiet in a deafening way, while Sukuna's eyes slide down to the pistol clutched in the quard's shaking grip and Megumi can almost hear the man's heart dropping into his stomach. The guy swallows. His Adam's apple jerks in a dry gulp, loud enough to echo. His mouth works and Sukuna is waiting eagerly to hear what words will leave his lips – what it might be that he can stuff back into his throat, but no sound comes out in the end.