For what felt like hours, the world didn't exist. Nothing existed beyond that light and that pain, pure pain radiating through every nook and cranny of his being - Billy-Ray's head was swimming with it, vibrating, pulsating viciously - a command center deciding how much pain the rest of him was going to be in.
The very first thing he forced himself to be aware of through it all was the floor. Beneath him, hard and solid. So he was on his back. That was a bad thing. That was a bad thing because it left Billy-Ray vulnerable to whoever might have heard the fight from out in the hallway. The door was unsealed now. Anyone could come in. Anyone could come in and -
Billy-Ray seized on an instinctive panic and hurled himself blindly to the side. A split second later, a gunshot rang out. Barely able to see and with his head still pounding, Billy-Ray opened the floor beneath him and fell into the sweet, hard earth. Darkness closed in over his head, protecting him, even as the sound of another bullet penetrated through into the ground.
For an amount of time he couldn't quite distinguish, he lay suspended in the stone floor and just breathed. Sight slowly came back, then basic awareness, then the ability to form basic conclusions. Gunshots. Two of them. Pleasant; of course it was Pleasant. It was always Pleasant.
The recovery time couldn't have been too long, either, because the skeleton detective was still standing perfectly still in the middle of the dusty office, gun pointed unerringly at the floor where Billy-Ray disappeared.
A few more breaths, a little more time to gather his wits, and Billy-Ray considered his options. The only way he'd ever actually be able to finish the assassination now was if he pulled Wreath down into the floor, where Pleasant couldn't follow, and left him there to slowly suffocate. That... wasn't an option. Anything that possibly led to being blasted by more golden light wasn't an option. Hell, Billy-Ray would take a bullet in his shoulder or a sword along his ribs before he'd go back in for more of that golden light.
Assassination was out of the question, then. Heading back into the room at all was a suicide mission. And yet, now that he'd been seen, Billy-Ray was as good as dead already. Attempted murder of an Elder, and no cell or binding magic that could hold him? If Pleasant didn't actually kill him first, Billy-Ray didn't put it beyond the current Sanctuary to come up with a punishment even more nasty.
The Texan scowled angrily down into the earth. He'd failed. Worse than that, he'd been defeated. His reputation was going to suffer for this. His bosses - they weren't going to be happy. Probably wouldn't even pay him.
But since there was nothing else for it, Billy-Ray picked himself up - so to speak - and dusted himself off - again, so to speak - before tunneling down and away, plans of revenge already brewing in his mind.
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The very first thing he forced himself to be aware of through it all was the floor. Beneath him, hard and solid. So he was on his back. That was a bad thing. That was a bad thing because it left Billy-Ray vulnerable to whoever might have heard the fight from out in the hallway. The door was unsealed now. Anyone could come in. Anyone could come in and -
Billy-Ray seized on an instinctive panic and hurled himself blindly to the side. A split second later, a gunshot rang out. Barely able to see and with his head still pounding, Billy-Ray opened the floor beneath him and fell into the sweet, hard earth. Darkness closed in over his head, protecting him, even as the sound of another bullet penetrated through into the ground.
For an amount of time he couldn't quite distinguish, he lay suspended in the stone floor and just breathed. Sight slowly came back, then basic awareness, then the ability to form basic conclusions. Gunshots. Two of them. Pleasant; of course it was Pleasant. It was always Pleasant.
The recovery time couldn't have been too long, either, because the skeleton detective was still standing perfectly still in the middle of the dusty office, gun pointed unerringly at the floor where Billy-Ray disappeared.
A few more breaths, a little more time to gather his wits, and Billy-Ray considered his options. The only way he'd ever actually be able to finish the assassination now was if he pulled Wreath down into the floor, where Pleasant couldn't follow, and left him there to slowly suffocate. That... wasn't an option. Anything that possibly led to being blasted by more golden light wasn't an option. Hell, Billy-Ray would take a bullet in his shoulder or a sword along his ribs before he'd go back in for more of that golden light.
Assassination was out of the question, then. Heading back into the room at all was a suicide mission. And yet, now that he'd been seen, Billy-Ray was as good as dead already. Attempted murder of an Elder, and no cell or binding magic that could hold him? If Pleasant didn't actually kill him first, Billy-Ray didn't put it beyond the current Sanctuary to come up with a punishment even more nasty.
The Texan scowled angrily down into the earth. He'd failed. Worse than that, he'd been defeated. His reputation was going to suffer for this. His bosses - they weren't going to be happy. Probably wouldn't even pay him.
But since there was nothing else for it, Billy-Ray picked himself up - so to speak - and dusted himself off - again, so to speak - before tunneling down and away, plans of revenge already brewing in his mind.