The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Chapter 12 (Gabriel's P.O.V.)

Wood shattered, splinters and broken iron nails flying through the air and swiping across the floors. Papers crunched under his boots, tearing the parchment and smudging the still wet blue ink.

His shoulders were shaking, large hands balled up into tight fists (or at least as tight as his black leather gloves would allow without the seams popping). Ragged breathing from behind his bone white mask was the only thing that resonated from the laboratory.

No beakers bubbled, no fires were lit, no electricity crackling or feet pattering. Even Junkenstein himself was sniffling silently in the corner under a desk, curled in on himself as he silently snuffed up the snot back into his nose.

"How hard is it to kill one small group of hunters?" Gabriel hissed, shoulders shaking harsher. Gabriel turned towards the next thing that was near him: A minion who was trembling where it stood. Gabriel's hands snatched up the minion and tossed him through the air as if it were a mere pebble, the minion slamming into the wall and knocking out a few cobbles. A violent crack, shattering glass from its mask, dark yellow liquids oozing from its head. It laid there dead. "HOW?!" he roared as he spun to face the rest. "HOW HARD IS IT?" Gabriel snatched another minion, his large fingers curling up its dark garments. He drew the minion close to his mask as the minion scrabbled, trying to refuse to look into the Count's eyes. "How hard is it to kill six people? Four of them are old!"

"Seven," a feminine voice chimed from behind him.

Gabriel's shoulders stiffened, rising. The minion lowered just a bit, the tips of shoes barely scraping the cobble ground.

"What?"

"Seven. All seven are still alive," she hummed as her heels clacked on the stone.

Gabriel tossed the minion to his feet, the poor thing scrabbling away from Gabriel into the crowd of other minions surrounding. Gabriel turned to the witch who eyed him without care. He stomped up to her, his chest in her face as he slowly bent down until his breath would have touched her lips if there was no bone mask in the way.

"There are six," he hissed. "The one from the south went over the cliff with a lycan and plunged into icy water."

"He survived."

"How?!"

"He was bitten, he survived it and managed to pull himself out of the river and right back to that little village."

Gabriel growled, stomping away from the witch as his leather trenchcoat fluttered behind him. His hands slammed down on another desk, inkwells falling over, some spilling ink that leaked onto his fingers.

What could be at that village that drew him there? It could not have just been his comrades that he went after... Right?

Gabriel turned to look over his shoulder. He pointed a sharp finger at Junkenstein who was silently mourning over his first sketch of his monster.

"You," he growled. Junkenstien paid no mind to Gabriel, continuing to mourn over his diagram. Gabriel fumed under his mask. A vicious growl radiated from under his bone mask, his hands clawing at the edge of the desk, hoisting it up and throwing it. It did not shatter, only sliding to enclose Junkenstein into his corner under the desk. "You will answer me when I speak to you!"

Gabriel roared as he stomped his way over to Junkenstein's place under the desk. He tore away the desk blockade (which now shattered when it slammed into a wall) and snatched at Junkenstein's white lab coat, tearing him from his corner and up into the air.

His large nose, once white and gray as wet snow, was now red and dripping snot. His eyes were puffy behind the blue lens of his goggles, it was obvious his eyes were red too. His lips were coated with saliva and snot, puffy and swollen from crying constantly.