[hider=Bad Reputation] A group of nine people slowly marched through the forest, the pair in front often pushing aside branches and other foliage for the rest of the group to pass by unmolested. Travelling in silence, each member of the group, save for the one in the middle, calmly but intently surveyed their surroundings. The last thing they wanted was for the Grimm to show up. Early, that is. Oswald was one of the people in the middle of the group, and by far the youngest one there. In other circumstances, he would have been excited, ecstatic even, to be out with the more experienced Guardians, but today….today was different. Today they were here for a very unorthodox mission, one related to the final member of their group, handcuffed and carefully kept within the center of the others. It wouldn’t do to have the “Great Betrayer” get away from them, now would it? Gods, Oswald hated that name. But it was the one they had to officially use, as his name had been stricken from the histories of Brookeborough. A way to avoid making a martyr of monsters like him, he’d been told. He didn’t think much about it. Didn’t really care much about it, either. They walked for a while, taking a short break to relieve themselves and relax after what felt like hours of walking. Realistically, it had been maybe ninety minutes. Somewhat far, sure, but hardly a marathon. Oswald scanned the group distractedly, making a point to ignore their prisoner intently. He was surprised he’d been able to reign in his temper for this long, but he’d been so exhausted lately that he simply might not have [i]had[/i] the energy to be angry enough to show it. In the end, it hardly mattered. One teenager’s anger typically wasn’t enough to encourage more than an errant Beowulf to come looking, especially not when it was being intentionally controlled. He wanted to say something, but no words came to mind. In some way, at least, he felt that breaking the silence would be sacrilegious in a way. They were here for a very good reason, not for idle chit-chat. After a short while longer, they continued, silence dominating the scene as the small group continued through the forest. For another thirty minutes or so they walked, the dark cloud of what they were here to do looming over their heads. It wasn’t exactly every day you took a stroll out to execute somebody, after all. Upon reaching their destination, however, the silence finally broke. “Alright…here’s good enough. Get him over by that big rock and undo his cuffs for me, would ya?” Talking at one of the two women in the group, Conner, who was their de facto leader for this excursion, stopped and turned. “Yep, yep, right there. Alrighty then.” Stepping towards their prisoner, Conner sighed and shook his head. “I had this whole little speech prepared, but fuck it.” Suddenly stepping forward, the muscular man delivered a heavy punch into the prisoner’s nose, cracking bone and forcing him to stumble backwards, falling onto the boulder behind him. The man simply looked up at Conner, wiping some of the blood off his nose. “Not even a grunt, huh? Well, I’m sure that won’t last.” Kicking the older man off the boulder harshly, Conner gestured towards one of the other members of the group. “You gonna join in, or do I gotta break his shit myself?” From there, everybody but Oswald had gotten involved, punching or kicking or hitting the older man with their weapons. The teenager simply watched, the hatred in his eyes growing by the minute as the beating continued. “Hey, Conner, wanna let the kid have a go?” One of the other men in the group asked. Oswald stiffened slightly in reaction. He hated this guy, sure, and he’d come along, but actually beating a defenseless old man? He wasn’t sure he could do it. The memory of finding Blaine covered in Yahto’s blood changed his mind, though. Stalking over, rifle still in his hands, Oswald shoved past whoever it was that was still holding on to the guy and [i]slammed[/i] the barrel of his rifle into the man’s face. It looked like a modern art masterpiece, one eye bloated, and the other one practically a bloody hole. His nose had to be broken in five different places, and he could have sworn jaws weren’t supposed to hang like that. The prisoner let out a soft grunt at the sudden impact, before Oswald grabbed the rifle with both hands again and bashed the butt into his gut, forcing the air from his lungs. Using the rifle as leverage to swing the man’s face into his knee, Oswald let out a deep breath of relief when his victim fell to his knees, breathing deeply. Oswald shot the back of his hand. Conner’s eyes widened. The man let out a small scream. Oswald chuckled. “That was for Yahto.” A punch to the back of the head. “Finley.” A kick to the ribcage. “Ash!” Another kick. “HUNTER!” Oswald fell onto the man, smashing the butt of his rifle into his sternum. “Crystal!!!!” Standing, Oswald aimed the rifle down at the prisoner’s gut. After a moment, he shot. His ears were ringing. “Blaine.” His voice was quiet. Almost silent. The other man was groaning in pain. “This is for Cerise.” Grabbing a hold of the man’s leg and lifting it, Oswald gestured for one of the others to take it. One of the men in their group, whose name Oswald couldn’t remember, did. He gave Oswald a confused look. “Hold it straight up. Make sure it’s tight.” Oswald held his rifle like a club, aiming a swing at the man’s knee. The others looked on with uncertainty. He heard Conner say his name. He swung. The scream was [i]magnificent.[/i] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It wasn’t much longer before the Grimm arrived. That was their cue to hide. While it wouldn’t do much, they’d hardly be a good target way up in the trees while there was a writhing, groaning man was just lying there like a free meal, would they? Those screams…not so pleasant. They’d play as the background music for many nightmares. Sometimes you did things you regretted. Sometimes you did things you couldn’t really regret, even if they weren’t the best choice. Sometimes you do things you don’t want to for reasons you can’t really deny. Sometimes…sometimes you’re just really fuckin’ angry one day. [/hider]