Instinct

Claws. This guy has claws.

This is not real. No way.

The sharp points pressing into his neck feel pretty real.

Dad. This guy wants to hurt his father.

He has claws.

“Do not make me hurt you kid.”

This guy could kill him.

Alex cannot draw in enough air. His vision swims and blurs under tears. Please, he thinks, let me go. Please.

A blurry door swings open on his left. The hand at his throat loosens and he gasps in air.

Everything brightens. His head throbs. His neck burns.

The sound of sliding metal cuts through the haze and he tracks the sound to the man’s outstretched hand. The claws that were at his throat are extended fully, pointed like knives at the doorway.

Pointed at his father.

“Dad!”

Fight. Neutralize. Diversion. Best option projectile at head. Launch attack low. Take out legs first. Throw off balance. Then follow through with…

Follow through with…

Alex.

There is a hand clenched around his son’s throat.

There are knives. Knives pointed at him but much too close to Alex.

Knives growing out of the intruder’s hands.

His mind is screaming but his hands are empty.

He forces a breath, dragging in air through his teeth. Control. Control the situation. He raises his hands slowly, palms outstretched. His left hand quivers. He cannot stop it. Not adrenaline. Fear.

An old, familiar agony pulses through his muscles. Coiling and tensing.

“Alex.” His voice is calm. His hand quivers. His eyes rest on the hand circling his son’s throat. On the red ring just visible beneath its grip.

The man follows his eye line.

“Lehnsherr, I assume?” The man asks roughly. “Close the door.”

He steps backward and reaches back to press against the door, hearing a small click when it shuts.

The man’s eyes are fixed on him. Erik opens his mouth. Alex moves.

His fist jabs out and hits the man’s throat, sending him reeling. The hand drops from Alex’s throat.

Do something. Now.

Erik spins, dropping down to one knee. He grips the small wooden table by the door and springs up, launching it towards the man’s far shoulder. As the intruder dodges, he propels off his right leg and tackles the man at the knees. They crash to the floor and Erik struggles to get up. He cannot get the bend on his left leg right and is left floundering amongst the intruder’s limbs for precious seconds.

“Go!” He barks out blindly.

He dodges a punch thrown at his chest and returns his own jab into a solid jaw. He whips his head around wildly. Alex. There.

He is on the floor too. Back pressed tight against the wall. Wide eyed and panicked. Too close. Alex has to be far away from here.

“Door.” Erik snaps.

Alex nods quickly and scrambles up.

Erik catches silver in his periphery. The claws sing through the air. Sharp. Deadly. Not aiming for him. Aiming for Alex.

Erik kicks out sharply. His left leg strikes out, blocking the path of the claws. Clang. The two metals collide and the impact vibrates painfully through Erik’s jaw. The man grunts in frustration and pulls back his arm. He throws himself over Erik’s leg and grabs at Alex’s ankle, bringing him down hard. A hiss of pain. A puff of exertion. Panicked eyes finding his.

He rolls and crashes his knee into the man’s ribs. Again. Again. His elbow finds its mark under a chin. He is harsh. Punishing. Accurate.

Desperate.

The man lets go and turns both fists towards Erik. They are both entangled on the floor. Fists collide with bones. Knees. Elbows. Rough. Ugly. Erik curls instinctively as claws pierce the carpet beside his head. Keep moving. Get up. Get the advantage.

He looks up at a wooden thud. Alex is at the door. Get out. Get out.

A fist snaps into his temple and his vision flickers. Spins. Muscles stutter. He blinks heavily. No. Move. Move. Move.

Erik swallows down the nausea and stumbles drunkenly to his knees.

Empty floor. Where. Not here. Look up. The man. Alex.

No.

Alex launches up from the floor and throws himself at the door. His shoulder throbs from the fall. Thud. He braces himself against the door, hands splayed.

Handle. Open. Get help. Save Dad.

A harsh breath behind him. His heart stops.

Schick. Thud.

Metal claws sink into the door, piercing the wood between his fingers and trapping his hand.

He does not dare to move.

His free arm is gripped roughly and pinned behind his back. The metal claws are yanked free with a sickening crack. His feet struggle for purchase, unbalanced, as he is dragged backwards. The claws rise into his line of sight, pausing menacingly in the air before moving against his throat. The man breathes heavily behind him. Air warm against his ear.

The blades brush against his skin.

He tries not to breathe.

His father breathes in sharply.

Dad. Kneeling on the ground, eyes struggling to focus. One hand outstretched. His face drained. Pale.

“Lehnsherr. Me. I’m Lehnsherr.” He gasps out.

“From what I can figure, so is he.” The man replies, tightening his grip on Alex’s arm.

The movement jars his shoulder and he cannot keep in a groan. The blades press tightly against his throat.

Erik’s gaze is more focused now. Alex sees him zero in sharply on a point just beside his head.

“You want something. I will give it to you. Anything. Let him go.” Erik speaks quietly. Urgently.

Fear.

This is what it looks like on his father.

A small buzz of static sounds by his ear and the faint echo of a voice follows. The silence is tense and Alex draws in a painfully slow breath, careful not to jostle the blades.

The man huffs out a single breath of annoyance.

“I have an old friend on the line. She was hoping you would say that."