People Like Me Break Beautiful Things

Walter snorted, his gaze clearing from where Percy was standing to focus entirely on the subject in front of him, about fifteen feet away from him. The man clenched his fists almost to the point of stretching his knuckles to the maximum, growled and ground his teeth but Walter just smiled again, a smile full of mischief and perhaps a little helplessness. "So here you are, old friend" the man in black said as he straightened his back. The man sighed and frowned before gripping his weapon tighter in his rough, bruised fingers. Percy cocked his head as he watched everything from a lower plane. What was supposed to be happening? he wondered but no one would ever answer him there. The bullet flew quickly in an attempt to crash into Walter's chest, he wasn't bothered anyway, he wasn't scared in the least. He reached out a hand and in seconds the bullet was between his fingers. The man with the gun grumbled, he already knew that stupid trick by heart, Percival was silent. "What happened, Roland?" asked a boy who came running to stand next to the man. Percival frowned, still watching from a distance. "I told you to stay in there until I tell you!" shouted the Gunslinger whose name apparently was Roland. The boy didn't answer him, he lowered his head for only a few seconds before his eyes fell on Percival in a bad game of fate or chance. He pointed at it with a nod, Percival was far from the scene but could still hear what they were saying. "Who is he?" asked the boy. "A magician. "Is he a friend of yours? "Not at all... I don't trust wizards. Now let's go, we have nothing else to do around here. Percival growled, his brows furrowing a second time. What were those two supposed to do with Walter? Why were they there?, well, other civilians with problems against wizards, that wasn't new though...were they really civilians?. Percival couldn't say that was true in the slightest, though if they were, boy did they have guts. He tried to approach them but something instantly caught his eye causing him to turn back. A whole horde of aurors looming from the distance. Percival felt even more confused. Who had called them? It didn't make much sense, although maybe and just maybe it could be Picquery who still wasn't entirely sure that Percival was okay. The stranger growled and cursed under his breath. Percival tried to look at the man but he was no longer there and neither was the boy. It was Graves' turn to insult the air. The aurors arrived a few moments later but he didn't say anything to them. He left after teleporting right into his office. Seraphina did not arrive some time later, no one actually came to her office. Percival was very quiet, too serious, perhaps more than usual. The newspaper that he had read so recently was still there, forgotten among endless reports and other things. Percival took it in his hands and tilted his head slightly, rereading the same part as before and watching the moving images fully attentive. The man from the newspaper, he was there, the same clothes and the same guns, everything was identical to what you just saw. And that guy looked angry and full of hate, which didn't seem strange to Percival, who knew that hating Walter was really easy for anyone, since in fact he didn't even really know him, there had only been two insignificant encounters and in the first of them Percival had lost his wand. Then he thought: "Shit. Although he said it totally on the air anyway, not realizing that his voice hadn't quite been heard in his thoughts. The words rang through the air even if it had only been a quiet whisper, something like a moan of rage. "Fuck you, Walter. Fucking son of a bitch" he retorted, one of his hands against his forehead and the other on his hip. He needed to think about what the hell he would do to get his wand. Facing Walter alone wasn't the best option, in fact it didn't even sound like a good choice, not after what had happened to him with Grindelwald, Percival couldn't risk it a second time. He let his heart slow and sat down at his desk seat before realizing that he had stopped moments before. He rested his head on the wood as soon as he snorted. A little bump to the forehead wouldn't have been so bad, but Percival didn't hate himself enough, not on that moment. He raised one of his hands to his nape and groaned in pain from the touch, the wound from the previous time was still firm, although it only hurt if Percy touched that exact spot on his skull, exactly as just did at that instant. He also came to notice that his hair was long for about the tenth time that week. Percival didn't even know why he hadn't cut it off yet, not a very good reason but anyway he was still there, with his hair tousled, his head on the wood, his clothes dusty and poorly arranged and his brain a jumble of things. Then the door rang again, the person on the other side didn't bother to come in, just said that he had a meeting open and Percy had to get there as soon as possible. He sighed, the cycle continuing. * It's funny how the mind plays tricks on people. Percival felt as if his chest had sunk in until it crushed his heart. With his back against a wall about to collapse, totally exhausted and devastated. The floor of the small room had been painted red from his blood. The sky was colorless by then or if it was Percival really couldn't tell, he could see nothing but depressing colors over his sore, dark eyes. He was in that dark corner, just waiting for death, the last thing he had left. The gate of bars was opened placing a horrible With a grinding noise in his ears, Percival squeezed his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose before slowly, fearfully lifting his eyelids. One of Grindelwald's men was lying there, his eyes disgusted and without the slightest sympathy. "Get up, prisoner. He told him, Percival sighed, the urge to cry invaded him. Everything had to start once more... or maybe not. Percival woke up with real tears in his eyes in his bed in the early morning. Totally shaken and with sweat running down his back from him, he got up from the bed and rubbed his eyes, His legs were weak and had to sit for a few seconds on the end of the bed. After a few moments of staring into the darkness of nowhere while he was lost in his memories, he preferred to go to the bathroom to take a shower, at least that would distract him from knowing how damaged he was.