THE RUN AND GO : JOSHLER

23 : FUCKED

Tyler watched in shock as two figures coming from B entrance slowly walked into the pit.

He heard Josh shout his orders to his snipers, as well as Donnie and Renegade commanding their squads.

Every Clique member in that room aimed their guns and stood as still as statues. Everyone was on edge, filled with a strange paranoia and fear.

Tyler shook his head in disbelief as he saw a flash of bright red coming through the darkness.

Jack-fucking-Barakat.

"Hold your fire!" Tyler shouted, holding up his hand. His loud voice echoed through the silent arena, and everyone relaxed slightly.

Tyler walked forward, stopping next to Alex to get a closer look at the figures.

Jack was the first person to enter the pit. Horseshoe followed him at a close distance.

But they weren't alone.

Jack was dragging a body on the floor behind him. One hand was wrapped around the person's wrist. His other hand limply held his gun. A trail of blood followed them as Jack dragged the body all the way to the middle of the pit.

Alex smirked slyly over at Mad Gear before muttering, "Told ya he wasn't a fuck up."

Jack himself looked exhausted. As soon as he reached Tyler and Alex standing in the center of the pit, he dropped the person's wrist and let their arm fall to the floor.

"You alright?" Alex whispered, wrapping an arm around Jack's shoulders and pulling him to his side.

Jack nodded, but his mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were closed.

"Y-Yeah," he replied. He hid his face in the crook of Alex's neck and leaned heavily against him. "He put up a fight, but we're fine."

Alex stayed silent and ran his hand through Jack's messy, red-striped hair.

"I heard what you said, Alex," Jack murmured. "A-About me not being a fuck up. Thanks for that."

Alex smiled lightly to himself and squeezed Jack's shoulders in a sideways hug.

Tyler, however, wasn't concerned about Jack, or Alex, or Horseshoe, or anyone else in that room.

He stared down at the body Jack had dragged in. He was lying on the floor, his arms and legs splayed out in an awkward, unnatural position.

But Tyler could hear his soft groans of pain. He could see his fingers and legs twitching. He was alive.

Tyler licked his lips.

Boy, was he going to have fun with this one.

✗✗✗✗✗

Tyler stared menacingly down at the man kneeling before him. If looks could kill, he would be dead by now. Tyler's eyes were daggers, glaring and angry.

The man's head was down. His eyes were trained on the dirty cement floor. His long brunette hair was messy and sweaty, his bangs sticking to his forehead. He had a red stripe of makeup across his face, right across his eyes, with black lines coming down from his forehead and over his right eye.