Work Text:
Feitan was hurt, badly. He knelt on the brown dirt floor, head hanging, nen-canceling handcuffs glinting in the low light. He was in a pit or a basement or something. Something underground. The walls were brown earth, too.
He had been worked over thoroughly; his ribs were on fire, his face a mess. His mouth dripped blood.
Where was Phinks?
He fell over onto his side with a groan and closed his eyes. He had absolute confidence that his fellow spider would be there for him. He’d either find him or die trying. Feitan sighed.
Phinks would be there soon.