Vengeance

No-Doze blindly staggered out of the abandoned church, he felt himself dry heave and spat bile onto the desert sand. He winced as his bruised ribs painfully contracted causing pain to lace up his spine and settle in his chest. The agony hammering on his bones made everything too intense, the night air, the buzz of the halogen lights in the parking lot, the dry rustling of the wings of insects drawn to their glow and the smell of blood. Sweet and metallic like smoldering copper and cheap wine. He was drowning in it, swept away in a visceral riptide choking as he tried to keep his head above the current.

(I know, an odd pairing, it's also a work-in-process.)