Friar Tuck Everlasting (friartuck) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2020-09-13 16:16:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | distressed |
Who: Friar Tuck, The Sheriff of Nottingham, then Will Scarlet and probably eventually open
What: Revenge
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Parsonage
Warnings/Notes: TBA - but beating up definitely!
Tuck was so focused on making sure his congregation remained safe, he hadn't even thought about the possibility of the sheriff just walking into his house while they all watched over the church. But when he jogged back to his parsonage just to grab a book for one of his parishioners to borrow, that was where he found the sheriff, standing by his mantel like a fucking omen of death.
"Jesus Christ!" Tuck hissed, skidding to a stop. Tuck's laptop was open on the coffee table, and Malcolm had obviously been looking through it. Thank fuck he hadn't kept any of the files from the goddamned flashdrive. "You fucking piece of shit, get out of my house!" His knees were shaking and his heart was in his chest. Last time he'd face the sheriff he had ended up dead. As soon as he told the sheriff to leave, he realised he could, and probably should. Fuck his possessions. Patrick and Stutely were probably still over at the church, even though things were winding down now, so they might have left. But someone would be there. All he had to do was run over there-
He turned around to run, but something caught him hard in the back, right between the shoulderblades. His knees buckled and he stumbled as he saw his laptop crash to the floor. The sheriff had thrown it at him and it hurt.
That small stumble was enough. The sheriff was on him, shoving a foot against the inside of Tuck's knee, so Tuck fell to the ground hard, his knees slamming into the wood of the floor. "I know you fucked her!" Malcolm was screaming, but Tuck hardly heard as he struggled to get free. Malcolm was straddling him, and Tuck was on his stomach on the floor, one arm twisted up uncomfortably behind him. "You fucked her, you piece of shit!" Malcolm bellowed. He slammed Tuck's face into the floor hard, and pain exploded across Tuck's cheeks and nose. His head swam. And then Malcolm was flipping him over.
"Stop-" Tuck begged already. He was fairly sure his nose was broken. "I d- I didn't-"
"Don't you dare fucking lie to me, you fucking lech!" Malcolm slammed his fist into Tuck's face again and Tuck groaned in pain, leaning to the side to spit blood. Then Malcolm stood. He kicked out, his boot catching Tuck in the belly and side. He curled in on himself, but not fast enough to stop the sheriff from aiming one last kick, right at his balls. Tuck howled in pain, his hands going to protect the area. He was still panting, trying to get his body under control when he noticed the sheriff was gone.
Everything hurt and his pulse was pounding in his ears. Gingerly, Tuck rolled to his uninjured side, and he let out a sort of half sob half wail. "Help," he managed to say, but it was so weak. Instead, he reached into his pocket, hands shaking, and pulled out his phone. He needed to call Stutely. Needed to get someone here. "Siri. Call. Will."
And the phone dialled, but it called Will Scarlet instead.