“Now stop running and drop to the ground!” Aaron orders like a drill sergeant having a particularly trying day at boot camp.
“Good idea in concept,” I say blithely, “but there are at least four of these fucks and despite my best efforts to eat all my vegetables as a kid, I’m just not big enough to trip them all at once.”
“You’re still a kid,” Aaron reminds me in a growl. “Just do as your told for once and hit the fucking groundnow!”
Trust is not my strong suit, for a myriad of very appropriate reasons, but Aaron hasn’t shown me anything so far to make me doubt him and my options are pretty slim right now anyway. I drop to the snow covered cobblestones and curl myself into as small a ball as I can, assuming the point of this is to make myself as less of a target as possible.
As soon as my body smashes against stone, a large black van speeds out from a hidden side street and stops in the middle of the road less than ten feet from my head. The van’s door slides open to reveal a group of FISA agents, each of them holding a big, black assault rifle. They turn their guns on my pursuers and open fire. I don’t see the bullets land, but the sound of men dying behind me is pretty distinct.
One of the FISA agents removes their helmet and mask to reveal the face of Damon North, who jumps out of the van and races over to me. I try to get up, but the bullet that cut a wretched gash across my torso makes it difficult to do much more than hiss through my teeth. Damon lowers himself to one knee and takes my arm, slinging it around his shoulders and dragging me back up with him. I hold onto my injured side as Damon walks me toward the van.
“Ah, Aaron,” I grit out through the comm. “Your son was just my valiant hero. Maybe take him out for ice cream when he gets home or something.”
Damon huffs out an amused laugh, which is nice except for how it causes his shoulders to shake and therefore accidentallyagitate my stupid bullet wound, pulling the skin around it when he jostles me.
Aaron is, predictably, less charmed by my attempt at whimsy.
“Shut up, Agent Sathe,” he reprimands, impatience snapping in his voice like a whipcrack. “Just let Agent North get you into the van so the medics can look after you.”
“Sir, yes, sir ex-boss!” I say on the tail end of a pained gasp.
Aaron must get called away, because all he does in response is demand that I “fucking behave myself for five fucking minutes” before cutting off the line.
Damon helps me into the van where, as promised, a team of medics are ready and waiting. They make me take off my clothes and immediately get to work fussing over the black blood still gushing out of me in an obscene torrent.
It turns out that upon closer inspection I actually have two gunshot wounds rather than one and they’re both pretty adamant about trying to kill me via blood loss despite my enhanced healing abilities.
Damon gets out of the medic’s way and sits down opposite me across the van. He has a mildly concerned expression on his face that reminds me of his dad, the pinched brows and the slight downturn of his mouth. There’s an edge of flint in his eyes too which is definitely reminiscent of the times I’ve seen his dad supress some form of garish anger.
I grimace at him whilst the medics do their thing. “Don’t get all emotionally invested in me, North junior,” I warn him. “Be like your dad and learn when to walk away.”
He doesn’t need to know that his dad didn’t get very far before he looped back around like an addict with one foot inside a rehab centre and the other a heroin den.
Damon’s light scowl turns into something grimmer, harsher, meaner, his lips pulling into a jagged sneer for a moment before relaxing again. At first I think that look is for me, but then hesays, “Pretty sure the only thing my dad is walking away to do is put six bullets in Senior Agent Lane.”
He sounds so certain about that, so unsurprised by the prospect that his dad might, right now, be willing to commit murderous vengeance on my behalf, that I’m stunned into silence for a handful of seconds, staring at him in disbelief.
“Six?” I ask once I’ve found my voice again.
Damon’s third expression of the day makes him look even more like Aaron than the other’s that came before. His mouth tips up into a malevolent smirk, edges sharpened to razor points meant to cut and slice, to inspire fear in his enemies.
“Just to really make sure the impact is understood by any future handlers who read your old mission reports.”
“Hm,” I say, bobbing my head. “Gotta be thorough with your retribution, otherwise how else will the mean little senior agents learn? Right.”
FISA’s medics finally get with the fucking program and stick me with a needle attached to some God forsaken morphine and I feel myself start to drift into a softer state of mind, the pain from my multiple gunshot wounds fading to a low pulse rather than a raging scream of torn nerves.
“Hey, North,” I call out to Damon from across the cavernous distance between my bench and his. He looks back at me expectantly, eyebrows firmly raised like he’s aware that whatever I’m about to say will be something he needs to disregard as nonsensical drug-induced bullshit. A fair assumption considering how much legal heroin they just flooded my bloodstream with. “Tell your dad that I’ll suck his cock if he lets me be the one to shoot Senior Agent Lane six times.”
I’ve closed my eyes, so I don’t get to witness whatever physical reaction Damon has to that, but the audible sigh he releases is enough to create a picture in my mind based on the times I’ve seen Aaron look at me with a mix of fondness and exasperation.
“Send your own valentines, Sathe,” Damon says, and if I was any less shot and shot up right now then I’d laugh until I cried.
***
It takes less than a week for my wounds to heal enough that Snow is comfortable sending me back out again. I agree to it because the mission she offers feels personal. Obsidian Inc has been collecting children again, specifically targeting the offspring of FISA agents like they did the last time they were looking to experiment with Liquid Onyx.
We don’t know if they’re working on a new superhuman drug or if it’s for something else entirely. I don’t intend for it to matter much because either way I’m going to do whatever it takes to stop OI from ruining any more children with their megalomaniac crap.
