Oh my god, the movie such painful feels that make me scare away my brothers. I'm serious: one moment I'm reading a fanfic or looking at fan art of ROTG and the next thing I know I'm laughing like a psychopath or tearing up and parents just look at me funny then go back to what they're doing.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the chapter. If there's anything you want to see, simply ask.
Come on, Jack, you can do it, he told himself. His brown pants were now stained red with a tear on his left thigh. He pulled out the knife earlier but was now slowly bleeding out. He had been trying to keep pressure on the wound which was proving difficult as he hobbled down the streets of Burgess. His staff, broken in two, was he held in his hand.
Earlier, Jack had been walking down the street when he heard a laugh in the alley, but it wasn't a normal laugh, more like a deep, blood-curdling, nails on the chalkboard, sinister laugh. He went to investigate, staff held at the ready for attack. He crept deep into the narrow alley to the back of the building where it was lit by one small light.
He scanned the area, but nothing. As he turned to leave, a shadow block his path. It took the form of a man wearing all black with raven hair. A pale grey face with cat eyes smiled at the 318 year old winter spirit. "Why, hello, Jack."
The said spirit moved to a fighting stance, staff held high. "What do you want, Pitch?"
He smirked. "Are you enjoying your time with the guardians? I heard after my 'defeat' that you became a guardian as well? More like a get-rid-of-after-being-used kind of guardian?"
Jack's grip tightened around his wooden staff. "I'm just like the rest of them- a full guardian. And I'll ask again, what do you want?" he demanded.
"Oh please," the dark man chuckled. "They don't want you around, can't you tell? That pooka would rid of you the second he was given the choice. The fairy only cares for your teeth. North and Sandy only feel sorry for you. 'Jack, the loner.' 'The winter spirit with no followers.'" He walked around Jack, sticking to the shadows. "Don't you wish to be more?"
"Whatever you're trying to say, just spit it out."
The boogieman smirked. "I want you by my side. A boy like you is too good to be thrown away after being used like the guardians will- and have, I might add."
Jack thought back to when they first defeated Pitch. Everything seemed perfect. He was a true guardian, some children started to believe in him, even Bunnymund stopped making comments at Jack. But it had all quickly vanished. Lately, the guardians had been ignoring him. He would come to visit them, but they all said they were "too busy." Yes, Jack knew they had jobs to do, but they never even turned their heads to look at him. Jack would cause some type of mischief and they still hardly paid attention to him. He even noticed some of the children losing their belief in him. How could they have forgotten of him so quickly?
He shook his head and pointed his staff to Pitch again. "I want nothing to do with you!" he spat.
"So," he started, his smile vanished. "You wish to never reach your full potential. There is more to you, Jack, that hasn't surfaced from you. You have more power than you know, but you choose to keep it bottled up." He snapped his fingers. "No matter."
Neighs of horses surrounded them. Jack turned to see a large black horse with red eyes staring at him intensively. The creatures were larger than other horses Jack had seen before. Jack held his staff ready to attack the dark horses and waited for their attack.
He felt the breath of Pitch's on his neck as a sharp pain pierced his leg, his upper thigh. A black dagger was pulled out of his left leg as Pitch sighed, "We'll just have to try Plan B." He was pushed forward, falling to the ground. Before he could react a fearling lifted its front legs into the air and forced its hooves onto Jack's chest. Jack gasp, begging for air, as the horse stomp onto his chest again. He pointed the staff to the horse and froze the dark creature, it shattering and disappearing shortly after.
The spirit tried to shoot the dark horses as they charged at him, but there were too many. He shot ice at them, but they were only replaced. They knocked him off his feet and again pounded on him. The boy could only curl into a ball and try to protect his head with his hands as the trampled him.
The attack was short overall. Pitch kneeled next to Jack's body and hissed in disgust. "Tell me when you see the light, when you realize the truth. Those 'guardians' will only use you then throw you away when you are of no use." He grabbed the wooden staff that laid a few feet away from the winter spirit then snapped it on his knee. He tossed the two pieces back at Jack.
Pitch left the wounded Jack lying in the snow in the alley next to his broken staff. the hoof marks that litter his stomach must have cracked his ribs; His cheek hurt from where a horse had stomped. When Jack attempted to stand up straight the pain would increase in his chest. He struggled out of the alley crouched, one hand holding his leg wound, the other holding the pieces of his staff hugging his bruised and bleeding stomach. His head ached from hitting the ground so hard and nearly being crushed from the black sand horses. Thank God, He thought to himself. I'm immortal. Although, Jack never understood the Man in the Moon's 'mercy-immortality' deal. He never did ask the guardians what that was all about. Since the Man in the Moon only ever told Jack his name, he was never informed the extent of his immortality.
His breathing became shallow and quick paced as he tried so hard to reach somewhere safe. He couldn't fly since his staff was broken and had no way of contacting the guardians. It was deep in the night and Christmas was a few weeks away. He wouldn't be able to find North, and Bunnymund wouldn't be in Burgess either.
He didn't know if any children in the area had lost their teeth or if Sandy would be in the area at the time.
Jamie, He thought.
As much as Jack didn't want the small child seeing him like this, he needed help soon. He was running out of options. He could feel the burning sensation from the wound on his thigh. He took a look at his wound and notice dark veins branching out from it. This made the teen walk faster only making his head hurt more and his vision blurred as he rushed down the dark snow covered streets.
His vision blurred as the pain in his leg only burned more. He could barely breathe from his broken ribs and his legs buckled underneath him, collapsing on the sidewalk. The world darkened around him as he thought to himself. Before the darkness pulled him under, he heard a woman's voice calling his name.
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