.

.

.

'What – Ah fuck it.'

I spat.

Aimed right for his eyes.

Got his chin instead.

And a stinging slap for the effort.

Sent the world on a Tilt-a-Whirl ride.

"You little bitch!" hissed in my ear. His hand gripping my jaw hard enough that I wouldn't be surprised if it snapped.

'Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic. Brea – can't breathe. Shit, can't breathe. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Better not have to tear off my hand to escape. Agai –'

'Turn! Push the knee!'

'Huh – Fucking finally!'

Eye contact.

Landed in a real fucked up mindscape clouded in a haze of what tasted like hairspray... and a heck of a lot of wigs.

Maybe they weren't wigs. Were soft and very much did not have that dry texture.

That wasn't a lace or weft cap.

That was not a cap.

'Oh fucking hell, they're not wigs.'

"Wha? Where?'"

His confusion made sense. Used to be rare for Magicals to know of mindscapes. And this was a Muggle.

His ego was typical of athletic Muggle adults. Cartoonish like those Muggle animated films in details but accurate in the shape of the body. Self-aware enough to know their bodies better than most. Knew themselves well enough not to constantly shift appearances.

What stood out on this creep's ego were the details to his hands and hair. Downright realistic. Which was rare to come by. Rarer still, with somebody not practiced in Mind Magics.

Probably spent a lot of time and pride on his hands and hair. Knew them better than most people. Confident in them.

"What the fuck are you!?!" he demanded the moment he caught sight of me.

With a nudge of my mind, my vines raced for him. Ready to rip and eat. "It's not going to matter in a tick and a half."

This might be his world, but the mind had always been my playground.

The bastard dove for the not-wigs-covered ground. Pulled a gun out of thin air. From drilled reflex. Muscle memory had it working in a battle of the minds.

My vines threw me to the side. No need to get shot.

The bullet hit a vine that braced my landing. Cracking it under the strain.

No matter.

The other vines bore the burden. Twisting off the broken vine.

Barely a pause before they launched me closer to the disturbing Muggle bastard. Gave him less time to react.

He switched targets. From me to my vines and the mouths inspired by the Venomous Tentacula with a dash of shark. Designed to attract the eye. To intimidate.

Shooting that wasn't going to make a lick of difference. Too many of them. Like shooting hair and expecting it to hurt me.

My vines closed in.

Made bloody quick work of tearing him to pieces and eating his memories. Leaving not enough behind for him to piece together to have a sense of self.

'Going to take a bit and a half to get the taste of hairspray out of my mouth.... Why didn't I put up a Bubble-Head Charm?'

A little tug, and I yanked myself out of his collapsing mindscape.

Barely managed to dodge having my face broken with his.

He may or may not have broken his face with the concrete floor though.

Not my problem.

Wiggling out from under the bastard was. Heavy as all hell.

Preferably without braining myself. The world be imitating a Twin Flip ride. The chances of headbutting the ground be way high.

A table be great help in getting and keeping upright. Sort of. Clung to it like an octopus. Might have brained me self.

'...Where... where fucking... towel go?'

The green glow helped with the whole seeing bit. The swaying of the world did not.

Fluffy towel be on other side of table.

So close, yet so, so very far.

Legs no work.

Couldn't feel my knees. They probably hurt.

'Better not break fucking knees. Need them. One step. One step at time. Just take it one step. Yup. Keep simple stupid.'

May or may not have headbutted the ground.

Damn towel moving too much.

Didn't cooperate with covering me either.

'Fucking hell.'

At least, table be supportive. Held me up better than me legs.

A warmth swept across my hands and stayed on my face. Or my chin.

Couldn't help swiping at my chin. Last time somebody stared at my chin, a fucking spider hung out there. No, thank you.

My eyes barely focused on the source of warmth. The only other conscious person in room. The warmth ramped up to near-searing heat. A buzz of wariness joined the mix.

The shirtless Muggle hadn't moved. Still seated on that creepy-ass Muggle techie torture chair inspired by the Spanish Inquisition. Nothing bound him in place. Nobody around to keep him there. Except for maybe octopus tentacles half strangling his ego.

His eyes... be far clearer than his shattered ego suggested. Even in poor ass lighting.

With how blurry and shattered his ego be, he shouldn't understand what the hell be happening. But he be aware. Aware enough to warn me.

'RUN!!!'

"Right. Yeah.... Okay. Sure. Why not? Want... want to run?"

'Close enough....'

Offered him a numb hand. Palm up. Careful and slow movements.

His ego flinched, shrinking. Down, down, down behind the chair.

Physically, his body still hadn't moved.

'Is he... breathing?'

Couldn't tell.

The green glow didn't help any.

Not when the world be getting covered by morphing blobs of changing colours.

My hand be a weird mix of burning fire and numb ice. From his focused attention and what be a bad case of magical exhaustion.

The world just kept spinning faster and faster. Thank god for table support.

There be time.

To wait for him to make a decision. For him to either take the hand, say no, or faint from not breathing.

To collect me self. Catch my breath. Wait for the world to spin less. For the blotches and numbness to fade. For thoughts to string together better. For something to improve. No luck there.

The silence in the room be deafening. Or maybe gunshots killed my ears.

Hopefully, backup not be breaking into the room. Didn't need my physical ears to hear their thoughts.

Still no clue where door be.

Got to figure out what do.

How to run.

Where to run.

How not to run when legs no work.

Needed to scrape together enough magical oomph for wandless Apparition... with a passenger.

This facility better be tiny. That a Quidditch Pitch away was outside.

The Muggle's physical hand twitched. Lifted from his lap.

A clattering to the side had both our heads snapping to it. Probably that damn mystery door.

We... were out of time.

I launched for his hand.

His fingers clamped down around mine. 'RUN!!!!!'

And I spun on a heel.

My magic cocooned the both of us. Weaving itself into the one spell drilled into every Magical when the Hunt ramped up. To do it wandless. Like we did with the Flame-Freezing Charm in the wake of the Witch Burnings for centuries until Muggles were taught to us be harmless.

This was completely stupid. Definitely not recommended. Very much on the exam to just not.

But children have done this.

So it's not impossible.

Destination.

'Safety.'

Determination.

'I need to get to safety.'

Deliberation.

'Get us the fuck to safety!'

Not a single solid destination in mind.

Shoved everything into safety.

Something foreign wrapped around my wobbly magic cocoon.

'Oh shit!'

Something was hijacking my Appar –

Crack!

And all I heard in my mind was a cackling "Magic!" with a side of spirit fingers!

.

.**.

Triskelion, Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America

Wednesday, 2009 March 10th, 22:37 UTC-4

.**.

.

AN: I hope you enjoyed that. Got a little artistic with it near the end. Missing words in the narrative due to exhaustion. Dunno why it went a bit pirate-y with some word choices. Hopefully, it was readable since this has not seen a beta reader at all.

I got a Discord for anybody interested. Invite should be the link below.
https://discord.gg/p8GdXYyKSS

(I've put it in the comment. Wattpad isn't behaving.)