Chapter Text
He sat in the corner. The same corner.
It's been this corner for days. Weeks? Months? Time blends together when the windows are boarded up and you don't move.
They're after him. He knows that.
The other demolitionists were gone. He didn't know where. He wasn't the one to gain the media's attention.
He only did what Builderman had told him to do.
He looked up at his collection of empty water bottles. He was down to the last two bottles. He had run out of food in the corner yesterday, and the rest of it was in the kitchen. He needed to get more. He needed to eat.
He slowly stood up, joints in pain and popping from lack of use.
He froze at each pop. Every shift of his floorboards.
All just to stand up.
He took a slow step forward, freezing when there's a scratching noise on one of his windows. He immediately goes back down to the corner.
They were here. They were going to burn his house. Kill him in his sleep.
He had set up traps around his house. Tripwires at every single doorway. Bear traps under every window. He had set them up before sitting in the corner.
He could hear more scratching. The sound of footsteps outside. He curled up tighter, but never covered his eyes. He had to be able to see.
Even if it was so dark that the only light came from the tv across the room.
The screen was facing away from him, but he could hear it.
"The protests against demolitionists continues, with some of the more prevalent demolitionists homes themselves found destroyed."
He was next.
He was sure of it.
They were going to destroy his home. Just like the homes of all those he destroyed.
He wrapped his wings around himself, unable to cry. His tear ducts had dried up long ago. He could merely choke out similar sounds to sobbing.
He was a wreck. First, Builderman had gone missing. Then the demolitionists were starting to go missing. Their houses were being destroyed in the same way that they had destroyed so many others.
He had nobody to look up to. Nobody to look to for advice. Nobody who could help.
He could feel himself fading to sleep. Of course, sleep came now.
Maybe it would let him calm down a bit.
No.
No it's worse.
He slaps himself awake.
He can't sleep. He has to be alert for when they come.
He has to be.
•×•
He could finally hear the screeching of tires. The gathering of people.
They found him.
He stands up quickly, now not worried about noise. He had to-
He almost fell back down instantly, the sharp pain in his stomach and whirling shards in his head made it hard to stand upright, let alone see with the black spots dancing in his vision.
He panted, ignoring the feeling. He had to get upstairs.
Each step was a nightmare. He could hear them, though. Surrounding his house. Surrounding him.
He could see spiders crawling up his cloak, and shook them off his wings.
He could barely see, the spots continuing to whirl.
He took the final step up, ready to fall at any point.
But no, he had a job to do.
He quickly stumbled into his bedroom, searching the drawers.
Where is it? Where could it be?
Didn't he leave it here just a few days ago?
Was it even days?
Finally.
He grabbed the crystal, sitting and leaning back on the bed.
He could hear the sounds of the boards being broken through below him, beneath the pounding of his heart.
He held the crystal close to him. A gift that Telamon had told him to only use in a time of life or death. Back before he was given to Builderman.
He was scared. Scared that this was it.
Why... Why is the crystal glowing?
•×•
"Last night, a house believed to have belonged to a demolitionist had suddenly exploded, with witnesses saying that they had believed that the home had been abandoned. The explosion seemed to have come from the bedroom, but no body was found in the wreckage."
The news channel showed footage of the ruins being searched by the authorities, possibly looking for a body in the wreckage.
•×•
The flash was gone. The lightheadedness. The hunger. The thirst.
He stood up from the chair he was sat in, adjusting to the rooms light.
The first thing he noticed...
"... 🔨?" (... Builderman?)