Where do bad folks go when they die?
Who: Shikamaru and Batman.
When: Evening of Wednesday, June 29.
Where: The streets near Itachi's apartment.
Summary: Batman almost rescues Shikamaru from AGI.
Warnings: Slavers. Violence. Death. Crushing helplessness.
They sent his own team after him.
It made sense. The sort of plan he would've come up with, himself. His team would know him best. His habits, his abilities, his weaknesses. And although he'd convinced them over the months that he was one of them, their comrade and friend, they had by now heard all about his betrayal. All of the trust he'd gained became pain, and pain inevitably twisted into thirst for revenge.
No one needed to tell him to be careful. He had been careful. He was staying with Itachi Uchiha, his master, who'd bought him from slavers once upon a time and was again protecting him from them now. Itachi himself was AGI, and Shikamaru had been careful to keep their relationship hidden. They wouldn't look for him there, under their own noses.
But Shikamaru had his habits. Stupid, stupid habits. Addictions that made him restless, feeding on his anxieties. Days he was hidden away there, and when Itachi had to leave him alone for business, it got to be too much. Shikamaru could go out for just a few minutes. He could go find Eric. Wouldn't it be good, after all, to have some of that blood on him? Just in case? Night had fallen. No one would see him.
They did, though. Because not too many people traveled by rooftop at night, maybe. Or maybe they'd sent a tracker out just for him. Anyway, he was in mid-air when the bullet caught him. Bit him in the shoulder and threw off his trajectory, so that he missed the ledge by an inch and slammed into a fire escape. Clinging to it with his one good arm, he caught sight of the sniper on the neighboring roof just as the second bullet hit him. Took out that arm, too. They were disabling him, he realized as he fell. Three stories down, but he landed lightly with the chakra focused on his feet. They knew he'd do that. They were trying to take him alive.
He took off running, turning the corner of the building to get out of the sniper's sight, but ran straight into another of his partners. This guy was the muscle of his team, could crush him with one hand if he wanted to. He had Shikamaru by the throat before he could even yell in surprise, slamming him into the brick wall to stun him.
Like hell he was going to be captured, though. It didn't matter if he was seeing stars, if his arms were nearly paralyzed by pain. He brought his hands together for a hand seal, his shadow seizing that squeezing hand and prying it away. With a choking gasp for air, he started running again. Blindly, because he was so dizzy, but that guy was the slowest of them. He only had to put some distance between them. If he could get inside, just find somewhere to hide and call--
His leg went out from under him before he even felt the pain. The sniper again, he knew, and hit the pavement hard on his chin. It knocked the wind out of him. His hands gripped the asphalt as he tried to push himself back up, but his arms couldn't find the strength. Maybe the bullets were still lodged in there. He couldn't tell. He only knew he couldn't move, and an icy dread crept over him.
When: Evening of Wednesday, June 29.
Where: The streets near Itachi's apartment.
Summary: Batman almost rescues Shikamaru from AGI.
Warnings: Slavers. Violence. Death. Crushing helplessness.
They sent his own team after him.
It made sense. The sort of plan he would've come up with, himself. His team would know him best. His habits, his abilities, his weaknesses. And although he'd convinced them over the months that he was one of them, their comrade and friend, they had by now heard all about his betrayal. All of the trust he'd gained became pain, and pain inevitably twisted into thirst for revenge.
No one needed to tell him to be careful. He had been careful. He was staying with Itachi Uchiha, his master, who'd bought him from slavers once upon a time and was again protecting him from them now. Itachi himself was AGI, and Shikamaru had been careful to keep their relationship hidden. They wouldn't look for him there, under their own noses.
But Shikamaru had his habits. Stupid, stupid habits. Addictions that made him restless, feeding on his anxieties. Days he was hidden away there, and when Itachi had to leave him alone for business, it got to be too much. Shikamaru could go out for just a few minutes. He could go find Eric. Wouldn't it be good, after all, to have some of that blood on him? Just in case? Night had fallen. No one would see him.
They did, though. Because not too many people traveled by rooftop at night, maybe. Or maybe they'd sent a tracker out just for him. Anyway, he was in mid-air when the bullet caught him. Bit him in the shoulder and threw off his trajectory, so that he missed the ledge by an inch and slammed into a fire escape. Clinging to it with his one good arm, he caught sight of the sniper on the neighboring roof just as the second bullet hit him. Took out that arm, too. They were disabling him, he realized as he fell. Three stories down, but he landed lightly with the chakra focused on his feet. They knew he'd do that. They were trying to take him alive.
He took off running, turning the corner of the building to get out of the sniper's sight, but ran straight into another of his partners. This guy was the muscle of his team, could crush him with one hand if he wanted to. He had Shikamaru by the throat before he could even yell in surprise, slamming him into the brick wall to stun him.
Like hell he was going to be captured, though. It didn't matter if he was seeing stars, if his arms were nearly paralyzed by pain. He brought his hands together for a hand seal, his shadow seizing that squeezing hand and prying it away. With a choking gasp for air, he started running again. Blindly, because he was so dizzy, but that guy was the slowest of them. He only had to put some distance between them. If he could get inside, just find somewhere to hide and call--
His leg went out from under him before he even felt the pain. The sniper again, he knew, and hit the pavement hard on his chin. It knocked the wind out of him. His hands gripped the asphalt as he tried to push himself back up, but his arms couldn't find the strength. Maybe the bullets were still lodged in there. He couldn't tell. He only knew he couldn't move, and an icy dread crept over him.