It doesn’t take a genius of Rohan’s level to work out what’s in the canister, or what it means that Damon has just been engulfed by the gas version of OI’s mind-control drug.
Dan has clocked what’s going on too, and when we lock eyes, his still mildly hazy from the blow to his head, he raises his eyebrows at me as if to say, “So, what’re you gonna do about that, then?”
If I’m honest, if it were any other FISA agent than Damon, I probably wouldn’t give a shit. I’d leave them to OI’s mercy in an instant if it meant getting my brother out of here alive and free from OI’s clutches once again. But I know how much Leo loves his best friend, and how much it would hurt him to have Damon taken away by OI to be in their thrall.
Rather more quickly than I’d like, I come to the dismal conclusion that I’ll be saving Damon, recalibrating that fact into my plan to get Dan to the garage.
Damon, as well as the other FISA agents who were hit with the blue gas, have all collapsed to the ground. They writhe in agony, bodies contorting violently like drowning spiders as the drug takes hold of them.
Thankfully, I think luck is on my side this fucking day because my plan gets a surprise ally added to it when Rex Nova, the tiny blond menace, comes riding in to rescue his boyfriend, armedwith two massive machine guns strapped over his shoulders and the sort of murderous fury on his face that only men in love are capable of. He appears through the dissipating blue gas like a vengeful demon from some unknown hellscape and opens fire on the gathered OI agents.
It's fun to watch their smugness turn to death and terror once the bullets connect with unprotected skin, ripping apart flesh and spilling OI blood.
Rex doesn’t hesitate at all, killing all the OI agents in a seemingly endless flurry of burning-hot metal and gun powder as he stands over his boyfriend, his stance and countenance a striking mashup of protective and ruthless. Afterward, once it’s done, in seconds that felt more like hours, the small man surveys the heap of men he’s just killed, pale-blue eyes scanning them for any signs of life, then nods once, satisfied.
In the next second he dismisses them entirely and drops to the ground beside Damon, who has finally stilled, freed from his internal torment but now apparently unconscious, grabbing hold of him and doing what I would have thought impossible by looping one of Damon’s arms around his shoulders and dragging him up. He turns his head to look over at me with a half-exasperated, half-expectant glower on his face.
“You coming, then, Roth, or did you want to slap your mind-whammied brother around a bit more first?” he calls out to me, jerking his chin at the corridor beyond. It’s incredible how little of a shit he sounds like he gives about my answer, like he really would drag his unconscious boyfriend through this OI-infested base on his own, fuck anyone who decides to make a thing out of stopping him.
Rex might be my new favourite person. But like, what the fuck is up with these Nova men? What evenarethey, really?
Dan was as shocked by Rex’s appearance as I was and let himself become distracted by it. I recover from my shock first,allowing me to land another blow to Dan’s temple, knocking him unconscious this time, ready to be carried to whatever safety I can dig out of the ground for us.
Picking Dan up and slinging him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, I jog over to join Rex on his charge down the corridor, helping him by taking on most of Damon’s weight. Rex might be surprisingly strong for such a delicate-looking man, but Damon is a six-foot-five mountain of muscle. Hell, if it weren’t for my super strength, I’d probably struggle to carry him.
Rex doesn’t thank me for coming to his aid; if anything, he seems vaguely irritated that I didn’t do it faster, which only raises him in my estimation. We should all learn to give zero fucks about basic rules of civility like Rex Nova.
We move through the base as quickly as we can with our two unconscious charges. Rex agrees to come with me to the garage once I tell him that’s where Rohan took his cousin.
The insurgency alert is still blaring at a deafening pitch, making it difficult for me to tell whether anyone is coming toward us, every other sound muffled under the shrieking racket of the alarm.
Rex seems to know the base very well and takes the lead with an easy confidence that, for some reason, genuinely works to reassure me.
I keep expecting Damon to wake up, but apart from a few twitches, he doesn’t blink or make a sound. I try to remember if I was knocked out for long after I was injected with the blue control drug, but my memory of anything before coming back to myself in that warehouse is still frustratingly blank.
As we’re moving away from the main point of attack rather than toward it like many other FISA agents, in the hopes of defending the base, we don’t come across any more OI agents on our way to the garage.
Relief hits me with the power of a large truck when we find Rohan and Leo waiting for us. That relief mixes with terror at the idea they put themselves at risk by not immediately leaving. Leo seems to have recovered from senses overload since the alarm is muted in the garage. Rohan is sitting behind the wheel of a black van, Leo in the passenger seat beside him.
Leo jumps out of the van the moment he sees us and rushes over to help with Damon and Dan, his own relief at seeing me and likely his cousin safe, and his anxiety over the unconscious Damon, warring on his face for dominance.
“Come on,” Rex says, voice surprisingly strong and resolute for someone who’s half carrying around his hurt boyfriend, “let’s throw them in the van, yeah, and get the fuck out of here.”
Leo moves instantly, running to open the back of the van. We sling Damon and Dan in the back, all of us jumping in after them and slamming the door shut. As soon as the doors are closed, Rohan starts up the van and puts his foot down, screeching his way across the concrete parking garage and out to freedom.
Rex is kneeling down by Damon, checking him over with noticeably careful hands. They aren’t shaking, though, despite his obvious concern. He touches Damon’s face, gentle and undeniably intimate, stroking the backs of his fingers over his cheek in open reverence, the devotion and pain in his expression too difficult to look at, so I stop.
Turning my attention to Leo, sitting on the bench beside me, isn’t much better, though. Leo’s gaze is fixed on Damon as well, his hands clenched together between his knees so tightly his knuckles have turned white from the strain.
I curve a hand around the back of Leo’s neck and squeeze, tugging him slightly toward me. He tears his eyes away from his best friend to look at me instead.
“He’ll be okay,” I tell Leo, yearning to banish the fear from his eyes. Of course, it could be a lie; I have no fucking clue if Damon will be okay, but worrying about it now won’t help anything.
Leo nods at me, absorbing the comfort easily despite knowing it for the bullshit that in reality it is. He leans even further into me, bumping his temple against mine and grabbing hold of my free hand to intertwine our fingers, seeking more closeness, a thing I’m more than happy to give him. I think I’d give Leo Snow just about anything he asked of me, without hesitation.
My eyes settle on Dan, laid out on the floor of the van, knocked out and momentarily vulnerable. Like this, he looks more like the Dan I remember. Still tense, even while unconscious, like he knows he’s exposed, because neither of us know how to be anything other than ready for the next attack from whatever corner it might come.
You’ll be okay, I mentally promise my brother, and I hope like hell that doesn’t turn out to be a lie.
