I open the kit and pass along the equipment for stitches to Rohan, figuring he will have the steadier hand as well as the experience to do a better job. I’ve had to do a couple emergency stiches on myself during missions, and I’ve got the jagged scars to prove it.
Rohan shakes his head at me and makes a face at the thread and needle I offer him.
“No. He’ll heal too fast for stiches. Just bandage and tape it.”
I blink at him, unsure, but when I cast my eyes over the wound again, I notice how much better it already looks. I can’t even see bone anymore, and it’s only been a few minutes.
I’m fascinated by it and maybe a little perturbed if I’m being completely honest. It is truly bizarre to see a real-life human body repair itself so quickly, like something out of a sci-fi film.
Jack agrees with Rohan’s assessment.
“He’s right. Just patch me up, and I’ll heal.”
Making the decision not to argue with the two superhumans about their own biology, I do as I’m told and bandage Jack’s wound.
When I’m done with that, both Rohan and I back off, giving Jack enough space to sit up comfortably.
Rohan goes to the kitchen to wash the black blood from his hands, moving around Damon warily. He takes the bloodied knife with him, which Damon keeps a surreptitious eye on. Rohan notices despite Damon’s subtlety and makes a show out of cleaning the knife and putting it on the washboard beside the sink.
Jack sits on the ground, legs crossed and back oddly straight. It’s like he’s incapable of truly relaxing.
I wonder what his power is. All Liquid Onyx agents have one individual power. Why hasn’t he used it against us?
“You doing okay?” I ask Jack, immediately wincing at how ridiculous that probably sounds to him.
Jack looks up at me with the same blankness as before. He tilts his head to the side, regarding me silently.
“Areyouokay?” he counters after a few long seconds.
Am I okay? Wow. That’s a question I usually go out of my way to avoid asking myself. The answer would be too complicated and depressing to bother with most of the time.
Jack doesn’t look interested or curious about my answer. I’m not sure why he asked, unless it was just to avoid giving me a response or possibly revenge for having asked him such a stupid question.
“What’s your Liquid Onyx power?” I ask and then more importantly, “Is it something really cool?”
Jack blinks at me in puzzlement for a moment as if he doesn’t understand the question. Then the expression drops from his face, and he goes back to looking like patternless wallpaper.
“Glass,” he answers lowly.
I blink at him in confusion.
Jack looks at my fingers like they’ve done something to greatly offend him.
“I can control it,” he goes on, which surprises me as I thought he’d refuse to elaborate. “Manipulate it. Weaponise it.”
He seems bitter about that last one.
“Very niche,” I say approvingly. “Who needs to fly when you can psychically throw bits of glass into people’s hair and really fuck with their day?”
Jack makes another confused face at me, which is oddly endearing for a professional killer.
Damon saves Jack from having to come up with a response to what I said by suddenly announcing, “We’ve got company.”
I snap over to look at him, as does Jack, both of us immediately alert to the possibility of trouble coming our way.
“Is it Obsidian Inc.?” I ask.
“No,” Damon says, only moderately dispelling my fears.
