william herondale. (hatesducks) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2012-12-02 11:11:00 |
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If anything could get worse, Will was surely expecting it. It followed him in waves and droves and the pessimism in his thought process was not far away. He recalled the morning as he did when trying to figure out things in a logical manner before his irrational behavior blocked out reason -- and quite frankly, irrationality was controlling many of his actions from the scuffle in the ‘entry room’. A portal, which was something he was accustomed to, opened to the other side of a place that was foreign and strange, which was something he was not accustomed to. Bright lights blinded him, and a wave of panic fell over Will. When he felt threatened, Will did not cower but simply fought back. He drew his blades on the men who were pointing guns at him -- there were many of them, weren’t there? -- but he faulted when he heard the voice of his parabatai behind him. Jem had come through the portal as well, and that just made Will’s reaction go into overdrive. Will was not one to wait till the others attacked and he threw a knife into the leg of one of the agents pointing a gun at him. He knew they were mundane -- but did he, really? -- and so killing was not necessarily an option. But as sure as he was doomed to Hell, Will was going to incapacitate them so that he and Jem could escape from here. Wherever this strange, shiny, futuristic place was. Something about it left Will feeling a heavy stone in his stomach and it only drove him to hurry. The guns didn’t shoot, which Will believed was his advantage over people who were too passive, and pushed Jem further behind him. He had thrown another knife, nicking another man in the faceplate of the gear he was wearing. Will believed it magic, and tried again, his reflexes drawing knives and throwing as best he could. Will never missed, but the deflection of the blades on their gear was frustrating, and Will started to get sloppy. And there were too many, although Will would not so easily accept defeat to these.. bullies. These Mundanes. They had closed in on him too quickly. Overwhelmed him too quickly. He had gotten too far away from Jem, and couldn’t reach him as the same men closed in on his parabatai. Will screamed for him, flailed when they brought Will to the ground -- of course they would feel good about a four-on-one scenario, Will wouldn’t have been taken down so easily if it had been a fair fight -- but he wouldn’t stop trying to get away. He was disarmed faster than a vampire could move, and his sight was blocked as there was a shuffle of feet in his view from the floor. He could see Jem, and only yelled harder, his throat going hoarse and raw before his vision blacked. When he awake, Will was in another room. Brighter, shinier, sterile. He was used to the dim lighting of the Institute, not fluorescents. The warmth of wood and stone, not plastic and paint. He had no weapons, but he attacked the nurse -- was a nurse? -- who came into to do his check up, with .. tongue depressor. He knocked out a doctor. He didn’t want anyone to touch him until they explained everything. What was this place? What was he doing here? Where was Jem? He expected a gun to his head at any moment, but for some reason, no one came. Will could not find the quiet center he needed, and his thoughts went dark. This was punishment for his slip up with Tessa. The care he showed to Jem. Will felt suddenly exhausted. That didn’t stop him from hitting on the very attractive woman who came in -- Hill, he caught her name at some point. He didn’t want to answer questions and he tried every thing he could to get out of it. He had resorted to violence -- which didn’t work. He resorted to flattery, which also didn’t work with Agent Hill. So he settled on silence. The only question he asked was “Where was Jem?” and when no one would give him a solid answer, he clammed up. And eyed everything in the room that he could fashion into a weapon should he be kept here any longer. The blood pressure machine might have been his best choice. He didn’t remember exactly how he had agreed to go to this apartment. The prospect of being reunited with his parabatai, he was assured. He still fussed. He still tried to grab the sidearm from one of the agents. He tried to punch another person. He wanted his knives. He wanted Jem. He wanted to go home. Not to this.. nightmare. Pushed through the door, Will froze inside the apartment. The welling anger inside of him was causing him to tremble. He felt like he was going to explode if he moved, and let the men close the door behind him. His breathing was reduced to heavy inhales and exhales through his nose. He needed Jem, needed to see if he was okay. He needed to get calm. “Jem,” Will said. Once, short, evenly and forced. A new swell of emotion filled him. What if Jem wasn’t here and they tricked him? He tried again, but this time his voice was louder and wavered, fearful. “Jem!” |