Erinyes aka the Furies. Violence is a given, creepy woman monsters
On wingless legs they fly, screeching wordless screams of terror and pain. Retribution (not Murder right now, no death today), feeds Unceasing, and Grudge finds the scent that all three of them lock onto.
Like deranged bloodhounds they fly, faster then they should as the trail is fresh. Fair Achilles does not know to run, does not know to hide and Furies always find their prey. It is outside the hospital they wait (because even mortals know better then to let the not-woman shaped people inside those doors), whispering in strange screeches to each other. Furies need no language but their own, and they know their prey is here.
They whisper on winds the name of fair Achilles, drawn by the blood and holding the leash that will bring him back to Master. Regretably alive but Hades never said 'do not harm'.
Megaera hopes for conflict because Grudge likes her violence. Like three birds they huddle, watching the door with hawk-like eyes because they know soon fair Achilles will be theirs.
It's a miracle and a half they did not bring an arrow.
There was an odd sensation in the air when Achilles left the hospital in a blind rage. Patroclus had refused to cooperate, only angering the possessed warrior in his quest to drag Briseis away.
Achilles had long since been gone, his body while strong and fueled by Hybris' poison, starting to wear him out on the inside. His ego had been taken over and morphed into the one Hybris had wanted and now he was out of control. Enough to disrespect his own gods in a manner that was beyond his own ego. This was more than he could handle, and he hadn't a clue to what he'd tampered with.
As he marched out the door on his lookout for the fair-haired Briseis, not realizing they waited for him, ready to strike as he stood tall.
It was Alecto, Retribution who cut off his pass and with a pointy toothed smile jumped forward and aimed a leg for his stomach. With quick blows she sought to bring him to his knees while her sisters jumped in beside him and brought quick clawed fingers to his skin to bring him down and low, to bind him in Hades- forged steel and to show him the folly of daring to disrespect the Gods.
Quick screams poured from their throats as they clawed and fought. Fury was their name and such they embodied. If mortals saw their little fight, they cared not. Few would dare to intervene with Olympus' divine executioners.
It was happening outside his window.
Patroclus' room was located on the first floor of the hospital and the moment Achilles left Patroclus had turned to stare outside.
Only to find someone staring back in at him. Three someones.
It was like their eyes burned into his soul and Patroclus sunk down into his mattress because he knew something wasn't right. Those women- He was going to have nightmares about their eyes for the rest of his life.
And then he saw Achilles moments before the women jumped to action. Patroclus stared and has his jaw not been wired shut, it would have dropped open. And still he screamed by what manner he could as the women surrounded his best friend - possessed as he was - and ripped at him.
His skin burned at their hands, ripped flesh, the smell of blood that wasn't of another. It was his own. Through gritted teeth he bared through it as they dragged him down, as much as he could until that gut-wrenching roar left him hoarse.
Their eyes were draining, and yet he starred right into them. He'd seen the Underworld before, if he'd been himself he would have shown more anxiety, yet as the warrior he was he was determined to go down fighting.
Only his body was weaker than it had been when he had fought Patroclus. Under Hybris' spell he'd started to drain himself of sleep and food, only letting his ferocious anger fuel him when he wasn't in her bed.
None of the three sisters felt pain or anguish, Hades had taught them well, and they screeched as Achilles fought back. It only fueled them, made their claws sharper (especially Retribution's), but they were not here to kill. It showed because they were playing with him.
They didn't get out much.
Six pairs of hands tore at Achilles to bring him down to his knees and tire him out. They continued until he sat on his knees, tired and bleeding, and chains were set around his neck.
Fair Megaera hissed in his face, wicked sharp nails dangling before his eyes as Alecto dragged her back with a hiss. It is Tisiphone who drags out the device Hades gave them and pressed the button Master had given them. With screeches they conveyed a message before they paused and straightened ram-rod straight.
As a unit they turned and looked at Patroclus and smiled.
Patroclus' scream died in his throat as the three women turned to him and smiled.
It froze his blood in his veins.
Achilles was at their mercy, in chains, blood covering him. And Patroclus had seen the whole thing. And now they were smiling at him.
Patroclus jumped out of the little bed he was lying in, despite the pain his broken ribs caused him. He dragged his IV with him, hiding in the small bathroom from those haunting eyes and those smiles.
He would eventually be discovered by a nurse who would curse him out for moving and tell him that if he did it again he would suffer the wrath of his doctor. She had no way of knowing there were worse things in this world than scary doctors.
Achilles had been taken. Patroclus supposed he had finally angered the wrong gods. His best friend, gone.
He didn't know whether to weep, or feel relief that Achilles couldn't get to Bri. He felt both.
Once they had him down, beaten and bloody his neck felt heavy with chains, forced to keep his head down in a way he was not comfortable with.
Like any wild animal that fought it's way for survival, eventually there was nothing left. His energy was low, no mortal demi-god could withstand the hands of darkness for long.
With heavy eyes he glared back, unflinching when one launched forward. He was not about to lose his valor, not yet.
They laugh, or what is considered laughing for them, at Patroclus' reaction. The outing is a rare one and such things are meant to be enjoyed. With chittering half screeches they drag Achilles to his feet, dragging him back to the house where Hades lives where they hand him over to their Master, who just shakes his head at the fallen warrior but never raises a hand.
Hades has no wish to kill him, although it would make everything all the easier.