We're supposed to let the glass smash on the floor.We're supposed to hear the soundthe glass sheetsmake when they shatter. Dan knows that. He knows, and he still grabbed the glass before it could break.
The OI agent who dropped the glass held Dan’s head down. He pushed his face into the concrete floorand ground it ina little. Enough to leave a mark. Hepunched Dan twice in the stomach whenhe started to laugh. Muffled, choked sounds that rattled around the room. There was blood. Smears of scarlet on the worn concrete, like clumsy swipes of a paint brush.
I haven’t made a single move against him, and yet there’s alreadymy brother’sblood on the floor.
Dan almost always laughs when OI agents hurt him.I think he just likes to poke at them. He likes to make them angry, and when they inevitablylash out, he uses laughter as his armour.
Dan thriveson therage that lives inside him, the fury that consumes his every thought and action. It pumps through his body thicker than blood. WhenI asked himwhy he does it, Dan said he likes the practice. For what, I didn’t want to ask. His answer was sure to be something terrible.
"If you want to die in here, brother, then we can do that. We can die. But you need to look at me first. I need you to be in this with me."
Dan sounds calmer now. Or as calm as Dan ever really is.
Dan is a storm. Right now, he's trapped himself inside a bottle. ButI can already hear the cracks starting to splinter it.
Dan oncetold me I'm adormant volcano. He said, with me, disaster constantly looms.
I lookat my brother now. I meet his steady gaze and stop hiding because Dan only calms down for me. He only goes into the bottle for me.
Dan is still half crouched on the floor. His positionis misleadingly relaxed. Dan is never relaxed. His body isrelentlessly primed and ready for a fight, for battle, for the struggle of surviving. He's been that way for as long asI can remember. Even whenwe were really little, Dan fought with every bit of strength he had. He fights even when he doesn't have to.
Dan doesn’t think there's ever a time when we don't have to fight. He saysthat if you let them tear down one wall, then you might as well let them tear down the rest. He says they only need one way in to own you.
I don't let myself think about that. It seems pointless. They already own me.
Dan is watchingme with the samemaddening intensity that freaks out most of the OI agents who deal with us. It even puts a few of theOI scientists on edge, and that lot are someice-cold motherfuckers.
None of them really know how to deal with Dan, who has a tendency to act like their violence towards himisfunny. Like he's humouring them by bleeding when they cut into him. The OI handlers mostly talk to me, which Dan thinks is hysterical.
Imove away from the wall and shift into a more defensive position, tiltingmy head to theside and considering Dan as I would any other opponent.I try to forget he’smy brother.I try to forget Dan is allI have in mylife that matters.I try to forget how they want to take awaythe only thing keepingme sane. Or as sane asI can be, given everything else.
Dan is holding his sheet of glass in a way that makes it look like it could fall out of his hand at any moment. In reality, someone would have to pry it from Dan's cold, deadfingers to get it from him. He treats his weapons like beloved pets and takes itas a personal affront when anyone tries to mess around with them.
Iremember one particular mission inLos Angeles,whensome alphabet agents were after us. There was a car chase. Somehow, there's always a car chase wheneverweget sent to any major city in America. Dan says he blames America's film industry and how every super-special ABC agent in the US of A thinks they're JasonBourne, the remake.
We managed to escape LA without too much trouble, which was a small miracle given the traffic situation they have going on over there. But once we reached the outskirts of the city, shithit the fan with severe enthusiasm.
After about ten minutes, I found myselfdriving a stolenvandown an empty highway withseven company cars chasing after us.Dan was half hanging out of the passenger-side window,laughing maniacally as he expertly shot the hell out of theABC agents' tyres. Because he is a lunatic.
An ABC agent got off a lucky shot, which caused Dan to drop his gun. Dan's response to this was immediate outrage.Mybrotheris low level pissed off on a minute by minute basis but messing with his weapons is a mistake people only get to make once.You know when Dan is truly angry because he goes silent. Allof hisfury sharpens to a single point. It is a terrifying thing to witness.
Dan slid into the back of the vanwith all theathleticism of an eviljungle cat. When Iasked himwhat the hell he was doing, Dan's only response was, "Plan don't-break-my-shit-you-motherfucking-arseholes is a go!"
Then Iheard a lot of banging and crashingaround,some loud swearing, and the familiar chuckles of doom. I decided not to ask any further questions.
I should have asked questions.
To this day,I have no idea where Dan got that grenade launcher from.
"Pick up the glass, Jack." Dan’s mouth curves into a half smile. It's a brittle and angry thing. "I'm getting bored."
I comply with my brother’s demand, finally, using my power to manipulate the broken shards of glass scattered on the ground. A bright green energy appears around the shards and I bring them up to hover in front of me, preparing to wield the small weapons in the oncoming fight against my brother.
Dan reacts to this by tossing his own unbroken sheet of glass into the air and using his power to splinter it into usable shards. The same green energy glows around the bits of freshly broken glass.
Dan notesthe flinch I am unable to contain, and his half smile becomes a grim downward slant.I see a flash of fear in his eyes.But it's gone so fast I have no chance to decipher the cause. Dan is rarely afraid of the right things. Rarer still are the times he shows that fear so blatantly. He doesn't have it in him to be vulnerable in a wayhe can't control.
"We knew this could happen," Dan says, glowing shards of glass hovering before him. He sounds so tired.
