Finnick 17| Haymitch 11Citadark Isle| Late Night
It seemed only death would shut Seneca's trap, for he continued to try and beg for mercy, laughably so, from one of the pokemon who would never dream of giving it. “No!”
he cried feebly, earning no response from Haymitch other than his continued movement toward the dark pit. ”Y-You don’t understand! I-I never wanted to hurt anyone – it was a job – j-just a job! They forced me to do it! I was tortured – I fucked up and they tried to kill me too! Please! Ha-Haymitch! You’ve got to understand – I – I –“
Job? JOB?! With a single movement, Haymitch brought Seneca forward by his hair, stomping down on the fox's throat only enough to cut off air, but not damage the trachea. "If you say that one more fucking time, I'll carve you like a damned turkey. I know it was your job, but don't you, for one fucking second, say you didn't want it. Anyone-- ANYONE that watched those Games would know you loved every fucking moment of it, you fucking liar."
He released his hold on the throat and continued forward, ignoring the cry for the milotic from Seneca. By the time Pretty Boy was done with the steelix and made it back into the citadel, he could have whatever was left of Seneca. Haymitch had some revenge to take care of.
He tossed the fox inside, causing the poor wretch to collide with a support pillar. Walking casually forward, weighing his trusty bone knife in his hand, he threw it with expert ease into the fox's left arm, effectively pinning the elusive bastard where he was. Blood splattered, but it or anything else the fox did stopped his slow approach. He then pinned down the fox's legs with both his feet, standing atop the poor creature, the glare on his face emitting nothing but hatred and pain. Finally... One down.
There were no words he could say anymore. Now that Seneca was where he wanted, no self-righteous speech came to him. No threats, no demands, nothing. Haymitch never had been a man of words, and now, they seemed... innapropriate. Each party knew what was to be said anyway... Why bother wasting time? Hands clenching into fists, mouth curling upward in a twitching fit of a vicious snarl, his eyes widened with fury as all of the hate, the pain, the anguish that came because of this rat
welled up within him and demanded to be released. He began with his right connecting to the fox's face, then his left to the jaw, and just kept punching until he was knocked aside.
Finnick waited only a few moments, staring up at the monstrous steelix who had remained silent. It seemed forever, the tension building not only between them, but the storm that raged around them. The sea was swelling, the tide was beginning to spill into the little cavern everyone else was in. They needed to get out
. But the thing that made him flinch was not the furious crack of thunder, but the terrified, pitiful cry of his name within the cavern. “FINNICK!”
Eyes darted to the side, then back to his opponent. Time was up. Coiling further into himself, readying an attack, Finnick hissed, "You're not worth my time!"
And so, with the aid of the rain and swelling ocean, he unleashed a surf attack, a terrible tsunami of seawater colliding straight into the steel snake's face.
With the help of the new current, he swam/ slithered in the direction of the scream, soon finding Haymitch and Seneca missing. Spotting the hole into the fortress the only way they could have taken, he quickly went in, finding a terrible scene. Seneca's arm was skewered on Haymitch's knife, and the marowak himself was perched on the fox, punching the living shit out of him. Instinctively, Finnick acted quickly in a bid to try and save Seneca from certain death. The milotic tackled the fox's assailant, capturing him in a strong hold of coils. "What the hell are you doing!?"
he cried, the scene so brutally familiar. Only those in the Arena had acted to cruelly."Giving the bastard what he deserved-- get OFF of me, Pretty Boy! This isn't your business!"
He bit down on Finnick's scales, earning a small grunt of surprise from the latter. However, Haymitch's last ditch effort to escape was for naught, as Finnick's coils wrapped far more stubbornly around his form. No, Pretty Boy was not letting go. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Haymitch conceeded defeat to the water type... for now. Finnick, on the other hand, had turned his attention to Seneca."Are you all right?"
he called, unable to move due to his body currently restraining the marowak. Said ground type scoffed, humored by such an incredulous inquiry."You know, Pretty Boy, I don't think he is. Why don't you go and mother him for a bit, maybe go and do his nails, trim and style his hair. Make him feel like a pretty girl agai--ech!"
Haymitch's snarky little bullshit was soon cut off by Finnick's coils, a silent threat to shut his dirty face. Still, the milotic's attention was on Seneca, hoping he could still even hear him.
((Snitch, if I need to edit anything, PM me ;u; I took... a few liberties lolol))