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Mindless chatter fluttered throughout the bar and mixed with the thick heat that came with too many bodies packed in one space. Perfume danced through the air, meant to be delicate but instead cloying and overbearing. Everyone seemed to be talking about something different yet nothing important at all. The weather, politics, celebrities, local gossip about friends or insults directed at an old partner. Nothing new. Girls leaned heavily into the arms of men telling wild tales batting their eyelashes and laughing just a bit too loud, and men were either toasting or taking bets on the deathmatch being projected on television screens in every corner of the bar. It seemed crass to be placing money on someone’s head hoping they’d blow someone else’s brains out first before they took one in the heart, but Elliot had grown used to it. They’d never been in the ring or even felt the need to ever put themselves at the mercy of others and being a whole planet away kept the nagging feeling of “wrong” at bay. Wrong was subjective and there was money to be made if you put it on the right head. He recognized an old squadmate as she tore through a cloud of smoke and put a slug in some poor bastards forehead.
Some of the faces of patrons were recognizable while others he had to feign laughter and promise he’d remember them next time. It had been awhile since he’d taken a shift up at the bar but it was a comfortable break from the hellish canyon. No one was going to point a gun at his head and as long as he could mix a stiff drink most people remained pleasant. It was boring, but boring felt a whole lot better than looting his dead teammates to survive. Being the poster child for the games was great for attention and there was, usually at least, little else that he loved more. Cheering swarms of people crying for an autographs. The flash of endless streams of cameras and recorders. It was nice, people paying attention for once. It gave him an excuse to pull off stunts and schemes in the ring that wouldn’t have a place anywhere else.
He’d loved the spotlight, but recently it felt oppressive. Constant eyes everywhere, gossip that stalked him and whispered rumors about his last fight and how wrong it had gone. He almost missed the hospital away from everything and everyone. Weeks had passed in the time it took the doctors to knit his muscles back together and set the bones properly so he could go back to competing. They’d advised against it seeing as it had nearly killed him but the money was too good and he was too stubborn to go out on a loss like that. He’d conceded eventually but only to take a short break until he was in tip top shape and was in the right mindset. The doctors were shocked he’d even made it out on the technicality he had. If it wasn’t for the bullet in his arm that punched through the tracker that told the officials his status he would have been hunted down by the victor. Amazing they’d said, that the shot just so happened to hit there and that some kind of guardian angel must have been looking over him.
If angels wore gas masks and goggles, then sure.
Elliot wasn’t stupid. He knew enough about Bloodhounds legendary precision that it wasn’t a mistake. They’d shot there on purpose, for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom but it still crowded his thoughts constantly. He looked down at his arm and at the ugly scar that he swore still ached when he thought about that day. The bullet hadn't torn through cleanly and had shredded the tissue coming out. The result were white scars that stood out way too much against his tan skin.
Lucky, huh?
“They say the Hound’s taking a break, they haven’t been seen in weeks.”
“Really? When their streak has been going for this long?”
Elliot’s ears perked up and he looked towards the end of the bar to a pair of girls sipping daiquiris. Casually as he could he strolled over and flashed the best smile he could muster at the smaller of the two. “How’s the night been treating you?”
The smaller girl, a redhead, hid her hand in front of her mouth to cover a giggle, “Oh it’s been fine. Better now though.”
The other girl, a blonde with a more serious expression and flushed cheeks turned to look at him. “Just catching up. You?”
Time to turn on the charm
He leaned forward with his elbows on the bar counter, “Oh same old same old. Dealing with drunks and keeping glasses full. Can’t complain much, not when there’s such fine company. Can I get you two anything?”
“Just a refill on mine,” said the redhead, “Doesn’t all this noise get to you? It’s like a jungle in here.”
He shrugged, “Not usually. There’s little juicy bits here and there if I can find them. Mostly Apex talk, but I’m admittedly behind on the news. Drinks to mix and tables to clean, much more important if you ask me.”
“Have you heard all the talk about the hunter?”
It was the blonde this time, “They’ve been completely dominating the arena for weeks now, signing up when they can. Until a few weeks ago at least.”
Elliot was actually interested now. They talked like they didn’t know him, which made things a lot easier. “What happened to them?”
Blonde made a noncommittal gesture with her hands, “No one knows. They’ve vanished the same as they appeared. Took the prize money from the match and went only God knows where. Viewerships gone down but no one can find them.”
A cold chill crept up Elliot’s spine despite the hot air in the room. Almost without noticing he went to touch the scar on the back of his neck. The bite mark had risen into dark purple scars that covered a large chunk of the skin and couldn’t be fully hidden no matter what he wore. It peaked over scarves and hid too low to be covered by his hairline. His coworkers had told him it looked like he’d been mauled by a dog and laughed about the kind of night he must have had. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the perpetual shame he felt deep in his gut. That day, those moments hidden in the shadow of the pit, the phantom pain that flared up from his hand when he thought about it. People had been dying all around him. He’d just watched his squadmate get half their head blown off, but all he could remember was being fucked against the wall. How he’d asked, arguably begged for them to continue to hurt him. He felt defiled, but also a deep longing for more. Once he’d left the hospital he’d picked up some random at a club desperate to replace those memories with something else. It hadn’t worked, barely even worth noting compared to being nearly choked out and fucked until his legs shook. He could still remember feeling the cum dripping down the back of his legs.
The two women were chattering on about something else since he’d gone quiet but he couldn’t quite get rid of an uneasy feeling climbing up his throat. If Bloodhound was missing they could quite literally be anywhere which was not a comforting feeling. Equal parts fear and excitement burned in his chest as he felt a blush rise in his cheeks and his pants tighten. He shook his head and turned towards the bathroom hoping to take his mind off the hunter. The cold water felt soothing on his face and he took a deep breath as he stare out the window onto the streets below. A large tree scraped its branched against the glass, and a pair of beady black eyes stared back. His heart almost jumped into his throat but settled when he realized it was just a raven staring in from the branches.
-
People were still wandering around the streets looking for nightclubs or bars to stumble into when Elliot closed up the bar. It was the early hours of the morning and he was exhausted from breaking up a fight between a pair of idiots who’d gotten too rowdy. The night air was calming and a gentle breeze blew through his air. His route back to his apartment was mostly under street lamps but the last stretch home took a turn through some alleyways. There was another way, but it would add even more time and he just wanted to curl up in bed to sleep and forget the night. The yellow glow only broke through the dark part way and the wind echoed against the brick walls.
As soon as he stepped into the dark, Elliot knew something was wrong. Months in the ring had strengthened his instinct and he knew when he was being watched. He felt eyes on him but couldn’t see in the dark. It was thick and covered everything in a blanket and his eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. The alley seemed to go on forever with every step he took adding another in front trapping him in this void. His heart pounded and his palms grew sweaty as he picked up his pace and tried to power through to the other side. He thought he was free only a few feet away from the next light when a figure stepped out of the darkness.
Elliot didn’t need the light to know who it was. The mechanical breathing told him all he needed to know.
That same sense of fear he’d felt in the ring seized him, freezing his feet to the ground. Paralyzed, he could only tremble and try remember how to speak. “H-how did you find me?”
CAW!
Elliot turned his gaze upwards and saw a raven perched on the rooftop and looked back to Bloodhound. One of the many rumors surrounded the masked hunter was they could speak to animals and have them whisper in their ear. He’d thought it absurd at the time, but it seemed all too real now. “What are you doing here? What do you want from me?”
He’d meant it to sound like a command, but it came out shaky and betrayed the fear he felt. Bloodhound didn’t speak, only looked down at him and took a step forward. Elliot wanted to feel panic or the urge to run, but the longing he was all he felt instead. He didn’t move even when Bloodhound placed a gloved hand under his chin and tilted his eyes up into the dead stare of the glass. “I wanted to see my pet.”
Their voice was heavy with an accent, one he couldn’t quite place. It startled him. Even with all the talk about them, no one had ever heard Bloodhound speak. Most people thought they couldn’t speak or that they’d had their tongue cut out. It sounded perfectly calm, devoid of any emotion. Pet. They’d called Elliot their pet.
Being this close to Bloodhound made the need in him grow stronger. The disgust was there but being drowned out by the ache and urge to grab them and pull them closer. Elliot raised a hand only for a moment, unsure of what to do. Bloodhound responded by grabbing his arm and twisting it painfully while reaching with their other hand to grab a fistful of his hair. In one fluid motion they yanked him forward and drove their knee hard into his chest crushing the air from his lungs and dropping him to the ground. Elliot gasped for air and coughed struggling to breathe from the impact. He barely had time to recover before an open hand connected with his cheek with enough force to knock him sideways and made his ears ring. There wasn’t anything he could do beside lay on the ground wheezing and looking up at the hunter. “No. You cannot touch me unless I will it. Now get up. On your knees.”
Elliot reached a shaking hand out and whimpered, “Please sto-”
His words were cut off as Bloodhound drove another wicked kick into his body aimed at his stomach this time. “You do not speak out of turn. Get on your knees.”
Out of fear of another assault Elliot managed to stop wretching and push himself up onto his elbows, but it was too slow. The heel of Bloodhounds boot smashed into his side and a sickening crack was heard as Elliot felt his ribs snap inwards. Every breath was met with a sharp pain blooming in his chest as it expanded but he scraped himself off the concrete and got to his knees. His whole body was shaking like a leaf, adrenaline coursing through his veins to distract from the trauma. Tears blurred his vision and threatened to spill over, but he looked up into the masked face and stayed quiet.
Bloodhound placed a hand softly on Elliot’s head and guided his head towards their trousers. His cheek had swollen from the slap and was already stinging but it grew worse as his head was pressed against the rough fabric of their pants. He could feel the hard bulge slide against his cheek as Bloodhound pushed the front of his face into it. His lips brushed it through their pants and he swore he could hear them breathing just a bit heavier. “Open your mouth.”
Another command, but Elliot just froze and let the tears trickle down from his eyes. A sick part of him had wished Bloodhound would come back, but not like this. He’d hoped for a message to meet somewhere private where they could do what they both wanted. Not in a back alley with broken ribs and a bruised face with him crying like a child. Right now he was just afraid and at the mercy of this person. It didn’t feel like he could will his mouth to open, to unclench his jaw and accept what was happening.
Bloodhound knelt down and cocked their head slightly, as if confused why he wasn’t obeying. Elliot’s eyes only widened when they drew a knife from a sheath on their arm and pressed the cold metal against a corner of his mouth. The edge of the blade bit into the flesh and a small trickle of blood ran down his jaw. Before Elliot could manage anything Bloodhound pushed the knife and Elliot cried out as he felt the skin of his cheek split apart. The cut was only a few centimeters deep but blood gushed from the gash and spilled into his mouth. The sound was disgusting and wet as it tore through the skin like paper. He tried to let out a sob but opening his mouth only tugged on the flesh and caused more blood to pour out. “Next I take your teeth. Do not make me ask again.”
Elliot willed his mouth open and closed his eyes trying to ignore the pain. Bloodhound tangled their hand in his hair and pulled his head forward, forcing them self down into his throat. Elliot gagged and tried to pull back but Bloodhound only pushed his head further down. The size was uncomfortable and his jaw quickly began to protest but he just went slack and let Bloodhound use his mouth. It hurt and opening his mouth that much was tearing the gash even more but the blood helped it slide in and out and coated his tongue in a metallic taste. There was nothing in the harshness, just Bloodhound fucking his mouth like he was nothing but a toy.
He pushed his tongue against the underside of their cock and heard them sigh in pleasure from the touch. The noise reignited a small flame in his gut, the same from before in the bar. He opened his eyes and looked up into the smokey glass, tears spilling from his eyes and drool leaking from his mouth. He must have looked pathetic, but he guessed that was what was spurring them on. Their grip on his hair tightened and pulled even harder but the small cry of pain was nothing but a gurgle around the dick being forced again and again into his mouth. Bloodhound let out a small moan and stroked his cheek with their other hand. The gesture was soft, more of a caress than a display of power. Elliot leaned into the hand and kept staring up into the glass, eyes half shut wincing from the growing agony. Breathing brought pain from his ribs and trying to move his mouth aggravated the gash. His one eye was slowly swelling shut and he could almost picture the dark bruise he’d have the next morning.
The eye contact did something for Bloodhound and they slowed the thrusts into his mouth but pushed it deep into his throat. They jerked his head back off them quickly and Elliot closed his eyes and flinched when he felt hot bursts cover his face. Some of the cum dribbled down into the gash and burned when it hit the open wound. They held his face back and stared, admiring their handiwork. Letting go of his hair, they put their hand against the mouth of the mask and pulled it from their face. That same predatory grin met Elliot’s eyes as they pulled him up from the ground and close to their mouth. He gritted his teeth as they brought his shredded cheek to their lips and licked a line of blood leaking from the cut. Elliot was even more surprised when they surged forward and kissed him, smooth lips pressed against his. Their tongue slipped into his mouth and they put their arms around his back so he couldn’t pull away. The kiss wasn’t romantic or gentle but aggressive and Elliot struggled to keep up. One hand snaked up and brushed the scar on his neck and Elliot swore he felt them smile through the kiss. They bit down hard on his lip and only let go when they’d broken the skin. The kiss left Elliot panting and he almost tried to pull them back in when they finally broke it off. “Oh kærr, I have much to teach you.”
Elliot could barely piece together his thoughts.
Kærr?
“But for now I must say goodbye.”
Bloodhound let him go and started walking away.
“Wait!” cried Elliot, “Wait what do you mean? What are you going to do?”
Bloodhound didn’t turn when they spoke, only stuck out their arm for the bird to perch on. “Do not try and run from me. I will find you wherever you go. You cannot get away from me.”
Elliot stood in the alley astonished and watched them turn the corner and seemingly vanish. He wiped his face on his sleeve and pushed the fabric against his mouth to staunch the blood flow. The broken ribs demanded his attention, and he decided to hobble on in the direction of the hospital, preferring the pain to the ominous message that still hung in air. Whether it was a threat or a promise, he could worry about it later. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.