Chapter Text
The metal fence bit into his back as he was pushed against it. His foot slipped on the wet pavement and he crashed to one knee.
“Get up, Archivist,” the man standing over him growled.
Hair wet from the rain hung in his eyes as he clutched the stitch in his side and fought to catch his breath. The cold seemed to reach through his sodden clothes to his very bones. Every breath of the late fall air was an ice pick to his lungs. The only warmth he felt were the bright spots of pain where the half-feral, man had struck him earlier.
“I said, get up.”
When Jon still made no move to stand the other man gripped him by his coat and hauled him to his feet. For a moment the eyes that bored into him had slitted pupils. He blinked and they were round again. Still hungry, still bright with the glee of a cat with a cornered mouse, but blessedly human.
Before he could speak, there was a calloused hand across the Archivist’s mouth. Jon struggled against it but froze in place when he felt the knife point ghost against his neck. Jagged pain burned along his collarbone as the Hunter pulled a piece of barbed wire from the fence behind him and wrapped it around his throat twice. The rusted metal pushed against his skin, drawing blood, when he swallowed.
“Hold still now, or it will only get worse. You don’t want to hang yourself on that, do you? Nasty way to go.”
Jon’s fingers fumbled for the ends of the wire binding him to the fence but they were just out of reach. The Hunter laughed at Jon’s frantic attempts to free himself; as he pulled against the garrote to get closer only to fall back coughing after a few moments.
“I’d like to think this will teach you a lesson about sticking your nose where it’s not wanted but I think that might be the one thing your lot will never learn.”
The Hunter crowded into Jon’s space again. “Maybe I should leave you with something to remember me by?” He flicked open a pocket knife with a well practiced motion. “Though it's more of a signature than a statement, really.”
“No! No, please!”
The knife was so sharp he barely felt it go in; an odd pressure followed by warmth spreading from a point in his lower abdomen. The cold intensified everywhere else and he felt the tips of his fingers start to go numb.
There was a hand on his face. No that was wrong, the man was pinching his cheek in some mockery of affection before ruffling his hair and patting him on the head. From somewhere far away he heard the rumbling of a deep voice warning him to keep his feet under him until someone finds him.