Now we both know I'm not going to shoot him anywhere lethal, and when Dan is in this kind of mood, nothing less than a lethal shot will stop him from coming at whatever his target is. I've seen Dan keep on fighting whilst riddled with bullet holes and leaving a trail of blood behind him like a truck leaking oil. He's an unstoppable force that treats inevitable consequences like suggestions from the universe he has the freedom to accept or ignore, like he can bend reality to his will through sheer stubbornness alone.
Dan sends another whip of glowing glass shards at me, this time aiming for my face. I shift out of the way, missing the direct hit, the glass cutting shallowly into my neck instead. Dan uses my moment of distraction to sprint forward and kick the gun out of my hands. It goes flying off sideways and skids across the ground to land too far away for me to easily reach.
I recover enough to block Dan's next attack, a fist aimed at my unprotected face. Dan doesn't pause, going in for another one straight after; this time, his fist was meant for my throat. I block that one too, and we spend the next however long trading blows, landing some but deflecting most.
Dan gets in a particularly hard punch to my face, breaking my nose with a volatile crush of bone. A few moves later, I get him back with a swipe to his mouth. His lip splits, and all he does is grin at me, dark and insane, as black blood trickles from the wound and over his chin.
It's familiar. Fighting with Dan. Not just because of the last time we fought this viciously, but because of all the times we've sparred together through the course of our time as OI agents. They tested us against each other relentlessly, which means I know every one of Dan's strengths and weaknesses in a one-on-one combat situation.
Of course, the same can be said the other way around. Dan knows me just as well, if not better.
Whilst Dan is distracted with trying to beat me physically, I pull on my power and will every bit of glass to rise from the ground. Pushing out with my mind, I throw the glass over the side of the roof, so neither of us can use it during this fight. Dan growls in response and redoubles his efforts to beat me down.
Dan makes the mistake of moving in too close at one point, tripped up by his temper, allowing me to grab his arm during his next attempted hit and using the momentum he put into the punch to flip him over my shoulder onto his back. He hits the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and I quickly move forward, spinning around to face him once I'm a safe distance away so he won't be able to grab at my ankles or some playground shit like that.
Dan always liked a bit of playground bullshit. He was never one to think that biting or hair-pulling was too lowbrow for two professional assassins.
I watch my brother recover, panting from the exertion of fighting someone who is able to match me strength for strength and speed for speed.
Dan gets to his feet with alarming ease and throws himself at me again with a yell of fury that I recognise from so many fights in the past. He's getting frustrated, which in most people would make them more likely to make mistakes, but with Dan, it just makes him more fucking dangerous than ever.
We go back to trading blows, moving around the roof like acrobats doing a circus performance, getting fancy with our kicks and blocks.
When Dan catches me off guard enough to maybe put an end to this fight, it's with words rather than a well-placed hit.
"Did you think you could outrun me forever, Jack? Did you think I wouldn't come for you after what you did?"
Dan takes advantage of my distraction to jab me in the throat. I wheeze like a fifty-year-old smoker, with lungs caked in tar, suddenly unable to take in air, faltering in my defence and missing my chance to retaliate in time. Dan swipes out with his leg, upending me so I land hard on my back.
Dan drops down onto me, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me up only to slam me back down, my head cracking against the ground hard enough to knock something loose. It feels like my skull is breaking apart underneath my skin. He does it three more times, lifting me up only to slam me back down over and over before straddling my body, arms trapped by his knees, and going to work on my face.
He hits me again and again, his fist connecting with and breaking my cheekbone, then my jaw. Pain radiates through my face, pressure building under my eyes, the swelling already beginning around them from the power of the blows.
Between hits, he speaks in snarling demands, the very real anguish in his voice a harsher punishment than the physical beating.
"How could you do it? After everything we've survived together?"
Feeling like I might quake, quake, quake apart at any second.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Dan. Brother. I'm sorry.
I don't think I'm talking out. Out loud.
There's blood, wet and metallic, on my lips, in my mouth. It's a taste as familiar as water and toothpaste. My teeth are probably coated in it, turning them black, like I've gone old school with some charcoal.
"Why?" Dan demands. He's always demanding shit from me. Why? Why this? He already knows the answer.
Because OI made me. Becauseyoumade me.
"I'm sorry," I get out brokenly. Or maybe I just mouth the words. I can't tell, my brain doesn't feel like it's working, gears grinding in opposite directions, sparks flying and catching the oil swishing around my head, setting fires.
Either way, Dan understands, and his response is as vicious as expected.
"Liar." Then, "Youleftme."
What?
Dan jerks away, his body snapping backwards before he can land the next blow. I'm confused, head fizzing too badly to focus properly, but when I turn my head to the side, I see Leo standing there with his gun pointed at Dan, a fierce look on his face. He must have run up the stairs when I took too long to come after him and Rohan.
