CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild language, action violence, mild sexual talk.
{{Unedited}}
Austin was off the bike and in the street, looking left and right as he pressed his fingertips to his earpiece, “Vincent? Vincent, come in…” He looked back at Marielle, who was doing the same; straining to hear.
Her eyes were big and glassy revealing her fear. They were starting to redden in panic. “Vincent?” She was saying.
“Shit,” Austin growled under his breath, and he pulled his black, long barreled pistol from the holster inside his shirt, and held it ready.
He slowly backed out of the middle of the street to the little place in the destroyed building where they’d hidden the bike, and went to Marielle, who was also pulling her gun out, but continuing to call for check in to Vincent, so her movements were shaky as tears began to well. She checked the magazine. “Vincent, Vincent, come in… Chamber?” She was starting to sweat; her heart was pounding.
Austin went to her, glancing down the street – they were alone – and drew her to himself briefly where his scent had a soothing effect on her. “Hey, hey,” he was saying, calmly. “They’re alive until we know otherwise, alright?” he insisted. She nodded against his heartbeat. “Right now, I need you to focus, and help me.” He said pulling her back from him and looking down into her terrified green eyes. “Okay?”
She tilted her head, looking down and quickly wiping her face, “Okay,” she forced out.
“I’m with you,” he whispered, wrapping the arm that wasn’t holding the gun around the back of her head, and quickly kissing the top of her head. “I need you to help me through this.” She acquiesced. “You need me?”
“Always,” he chuckled, silently. He slipped his hand down between them, finding hers and opening it against her palm where she took it. She understood what he was trying to do and slowly she felt the bend and break of physics and anatomy as she pressed through his skin and inside of him.
Their heartbeats found one another’s and Austin used his tranquility to grab onto her heartbeat and bring it back down into a place of rhythmic normalcy. “There,” he whispered, gently rocking her. “Isn’t that good?” he added, his entire body and spirit feeling the elation of being intertwined with her.
The line fuzzed. “Austin? Marielle?” It was Vincent.
“Oh, thank God…” Marielle exhaled the breath that she’d been holding in. “Are you okay?”
“Cory was in the road,” Vincent was finishing.
“Is everyone okay?” Austin asked again, glancing around once more; they were still alone.
“I’m checking-” there was silence for a moment, then muffled voices in the background. “Yeah, we’re all alive, but I don’t see Chamber…” Vincet said with a sigh. Then he spoke again, “Be on the lookout… Cory wasn’t really here.”
Marielle broke free from Austin, and he gave her back a brief, brooding stare. “Vincent are you okay?”
“I’m here, love,” his voice in her ear. She sighed with relief, her eyes closing. “The car was crashed, but I’m not hurt.” She clasped a hand over her heart. “I have to go and see if the others are alright,” he said. There was a pregnant pause, “I see Kirra, I think she’s okay. I love you. Stay safe.”
“I love you too.”
“Tu es mon âme, mon cœur, mon esprit, mes raisons de vivre. Tu es tout pour moi. Restez en sécurité, s’il vous plaît.” The line went dead.
Austin looked down, hiding his rage at them until it passed. If not from his mind and spirit, his face. “I’m glad he’s okay,” he said. Marielle knew that this was true, but he was outraged that they were showing affection, and he wanted to go to her, tell her to stop this nonsense, and to realize that they were supposed to be together.
He sighed and raked his hair.
* * *
Vincent was slowly peeling himself off the pavement, and as soon as he was up, he ran to Kirra who was face down on the cobblestone road. She lifted her head, and looked around confused and dazed. “We were knocked from the car,” Vincent explained, a trail of blood trickling down the side of his face. She lifted her hand instinctively to heal him. He shook his head, brushing her hand away, “It’s not bad, use it on someone else.” He helped her to stand, “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she said shakily.
Both turned to the SUV, which was on its side, leaning against a building. John teleported from inside the vehicle with a dazed Sabine in his arms and looked down at her confused. “I- I didn’t know that I could do that.” She was stirring and looked at him with confused eyes. Then her eyes started to grow wide. “Chamber!”
John tipped her feet to the ground and she stood, albeit a bit wobbly for a moment, and both ran back to the car, Kirra and Vincent with them. “Chamber?” She called.
The windshield had been completely smashed, and a shoe jotted out, kicking more of the glass free before he fell out through it onto his back, and slowly turned onto his stomach crawling away from the wreckage, growling and cursing under his breath in French. They went to him, trying to help him to stand. No good. “Ma jambe est cassée,” he sighed, falling back against his butt. There was blood soaking through the fabric around his knee. He leaned back on his palms which were pressed to the ground, and tried to breathe calmly.
“What?” Sabine asked, turning to Vincent, annoyed.
“His leg’s broken,” Vincent translated.
Kirra sat down beside him, and placed her hands to the side of his knee, letting her powers slowly move through her hands. Chamber winced, his head falling back between his shoulders for a moment as he healed. A cool, refreshing feeling spread over his bones, and he put a curled finger under Kirra’s chin and kissed her. She stared at him stunned as he pulled back. “Thank you,” he whispered, mouth lingering near hers.
Shocked, she pulled away. “Sure, love,” she said with a small blush.
Sabine bent down and punched him in the arm, “Be more careful, stupid head,” she growled.
“Tu veux un baiser aussi?” Chamber asked, lifting his right hand, and throwing down her teleporter near the front of the SUV.
Sabine glared at Chamber, then at Vincent, lost. Vincent shrugged a shoulder and shook his head, “I’m not translating that one. He can sink or swim on his own,” he chuckled silently as he used the back of his wrist to wipe away the blood that was now trickling down his face in rivulets.
Chamber stood, and pulled both guns to check them, looking down the sights. No damage. “Where is the bastard?” He asked before he sucked Tour De Force back up into his arm.
“He was never here…” Vincent replied, glancing around the now empty street. He looked straight behind him the other way. “Everyone watch your backs,” he sighed, glancing behind them. “The last rider was Finola,” he added. He pulled Headhunter from his arm, and raised it. “She’s still here.”
“That’s why everything went black?” Sabine asked, hard blinking a few times as she realized that her eyes were still a bit fuzzy from seeing only pitch for a few moments.
Vincent nodded his response. “Be ready.”
“Wait, did you say that this was a distraction before we crashed?” Kirra asked.
Vincent nodded. “They’re here to fight, yes. But…” His voice trailed off before he spoke into his earpiece, “Liam, it’s Vincent. Be on the lookout, I’m pretty sure they’re headed your way with the spike.”
“Roger, that.”
Klara broke in, “Guys? It looks like he was never actually there…”
Vincent was helping Chamber stand as the healing continued to solidify in his leg, “We’re getting that, Klara,” he looked around again, “based on the visual that you have, is there any way to tell us where he is?” He added, arm around the middle of his twin.
“Scheisse, I cannot. However, I can tell you that the other one is there-” Vincent looked up again, glancing around the street. “is that- is that Finola?” Klara stammered in their ears.
“You can see her?” Vincent asked.
“Yeah…” She fell silent for a good long moment, “You’re about to see her, too.”
A black rider came from between the buildings on the left of the street, her helmet was off now, and everyone could clearly see her long, flowing red hair spilling over her small shoulders.
From her right arm, came a large arc of lightning that she wielded like a whip. The entire party stood in awe for a moment. “Chamber,” she purred as she walked towards the crowd; her movements slow, and cat like.
Both Vincent and Chamber said, “Yes?” Then they looked at one another, cocking their heads; Vincent still holding Chamber up although it was no longer necessary.
Vincent kept his eyes on her, but Chamber cocked his head down a bit, looking at Vincent’s collarbone. “I think she means you.”
“She must,” Vincent replied with an eyebrow raise and a shrug.
“Unless there’s a third me, somewhere,” Chamber’s eyes were sarcastically darting around the street.
“Or maybe she hates me as much as she hates you.”
They were jumping on one another’s words, “Why would that be? I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Well, I mean technically you did, being me, and all-”
“Oh, for the love of…” Sabine growled, rolling her eyes at the two of them. They shut up, and both glared at her. “Not worth the bullets,” she hissed.
Finola cracked the lightning like a whip, “Oh, that wit-” Finola chuckled, “I have missed that.”
Vincent looked around the space again, “Where’s your lov- I mean, brother? I thought he was around somewhere.” His eyes flicked left, then right.
Finola sniggered, and clapped her hands together like a giddy little girl. Then she swung her lightning whip around her head and brought it down to the ground with a crack. “You know, Chamber, there was actually a time when I kind of liked you… but your eyes were always on Marielle, so…”
Vincent’s eyes grew wide, and he put his fingers to his ear, “Austin,” he said shakily.
“Here.”
“Watch out… Nightwatch- Cory might be on his way to you.”
Finola spun the whip again. “Is she actually going to use that thing or just play with it, not that I’m complaining. She is pretty to watch, and I do love red heads,” Chamber said, dismissively, standing away from Vincent. Kirra blushed.
Finola giggled, again, “You like this?” She lifted it out to him. “Would you like to taste it’s bite?” And with that, she swung it around her head, and wove it expertly through the air toward him. As it approached him like a lightning fork, it elongated like one, too.
He saw this coming, lifted his hand and snapped, and was instantly back behind the SUV in a flurry of purples and golds.
Finola laughed, heartily, and cracked the whip again, at which point four other black riders came out from between the buildings and lined up next to her.
All of them had their helmets off, and Vincent scanned them quickly; no doppelgangers. But their existence made Vincent question whether or not any of wreckage during the drive had happened at all. Finola had the ability to make people see things that weren’t there sometimes, and as a result, Vincent now wondered if perhaps not only the crashes and men on the road were imaginary, but if they also were now.
The one on the far left was as tall as Vincent, with dark hair, and green eyes. The next was a dark-skinned woman with a pretty mouth that harbored a cruel smile. The one on Finola’s immediate left was bald, cocky, and full of tattoos, and the one next to him was- Vincent thought, Japanese, and he was pulling what looked to be a sword from his back.
It only took him a moment to realize that these were in fact the same riders from the chase. None of them were dead, which meant that none of them had actually done the ride. He recognized now, the one on the far left as the young man whose suit was burning off by Sabine’s acid.
Vincent spoke into the earpiece, “Okay, everyone listen, Finola can make you see things that aren’t there- but she can only do it about once an hour. She’s used that ability up, so everything that occurs after this is real.”
“Copy…” Sabine hissed.
“Oui.”
“Got it.” John replied.
“Yeah.”
As if planned, the party of black riders all broke, and like lightning, they began closing the gap between them and Vincent’s group.
John threw out a swirling, purple dome towards the men and women approaching them, “Cover going out…” Then he jumped, teleporting to behind the taller of the men with the dark hair. “Boo.”
That young man pulled a knife, whipped around and the two began to engage one another in combat as John pulled his kukri knife as well. Mid- slash, John stepped back and shot out a shadow that moved towards and over the young man, who fell back, and crawled back out of it, but John advanced on him.
Sabine took on the meanest looking of them with the tattoos. Shooting a vial of her toxin at the man, he dodged it, and pulled a long barreled, silenced pistol from the back of his pants. Sabine took cover by the SUV and prepared to return fire. Noting the danger that Kirra looked like she was in with the mean looking dark skinned woman, Sabine shot a poison cloud out of her gloves to separate the two. The other woman jerked back, covering her face and eyes from the bubbling green acid dome.
The man with the long sword whirled it around his body, elegantly and gave Chamber a sinister grin. Chamber glared at him, lifted Headhunter and shot him through the head. The man and his blade smacked into the pavement. “Ces clowns doivent utiliser leurs pistolets,” he growled under his breath. “One less,” he announced to the rest of them.
In one movement, Vincent darted back from the tip of the electric whip, and pulled Headhunter. Finola was already whirling the whip overhead, and she flicked her wrist, striking it away from Vincent’s hand. He jerked his fingers back, but reached out to where it had landed, and it returned to him, where he drew it again and promptly trained it back on her face.
Everyone’s vision blacked again, and Vincent aimed and fired into the darkness. No one was hit, and the blackness cleared.
Kirra was holding her own with her Hawk talisman, and she shot it out. The bird took flight, and blinded the woman that had attacked Kirra. Siezing the moment, she drew her pistol, and fired. The woman was down.
Kirra, Chamber, Vincent, Sabine and John all grouped together against the three remaining foes. The tattooed gentleman, the tall young man with the dark hair and the green eyes, and Finola.
The three looked at one another, and Vincent glanced at the ground. It was cobblestone, but because they were so close to Venice, water was dotted in between the rocks. “Everyone get back!” He wailed, and they obeyed as Finola bent, causing a surge of electricity through the water droplets in the ground.
Kirra made it out of range, as did John with a teleport.
Sabine, Vincent, and Chamber all fell to the ground, Sabine face to the rocks, Chamber and Vincent on their backs, and their entire bodies were covered in arcs of bright white as they twisted in agony. Their hands closed involuntarily, and their bodies writhed.
Kirra whipped out her pistol again, and began to fire.
John teleported behind Finola and wrapped his arms around her front.
The moment he grabbed her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold onto her because her electricity was causing him to break apart. Thinking fast, he teleported again, dropping her into the water across the street from the rental, then teleported back to the others.
Annoyed, she resurfaced. She swam to the shore and pulled herself out of the bay. The fray was over a mile away now.
The last two of the riders were not hard to take out at all, Kirra shot both as they were distracted by John when he teleported in behind them and grabbed Finola. The meaner looking of the two actually went down easier, and once John popped back in to that same spot that he’d left from, he took hold of the taller, putting him in a chokehold, and forcing him to his knees. Then John proceeded to use his knife to slit the man’s throat.
Next, he rushed to Sabine, who was slowly picking herself up off the pavement, trembling in pain.
Kirra hurried to Chamber first, but Chamber waved her away, pointing to Sabine. “Her, her…” he whispered. She nodded and went to Sabine, who wasn’t as badly injured, but quite a bit shaken. John was holding her against him, and Kirra put her hands to the sides of her face, and gently helped cell regeneration and regrowth. Sabine gave her a nod, and thanked her, remaining in John’s arms for a few moments.
Kirra had to wait a few minutes before she went to Vincent, who insisted that Chamber be healed first. So, she obeyed that request as well, then took a few minutes to rest and recharge, again.
“All of this was a distraction,” Vincent growled, slowly sitting up and allowing his body to heal, further. “We need to get to site A.”
***
It had been nearly thirty minutes and nothing had happened anywhere near Austin or Marielle, and both were on edge.
Marielle sighed, “I have to pee,” she said, dismounting the bike, and wandering through some rubble and debris and through a broken window where glass still sat around the base. Marielle kicked some of it free from the window pane before stepping through it.
“Careful, careful…” Austin said. She waved a hand at him like it was no big deal, and crossed over the frame and to a space between buildings outside where she crouched.
When she came back, Austin did the same, but much more quickly so as not to leave her alone for too long, and with the strict command to stay hidden, which she did.
Neither really cared to break the silence, and Austin yawned, the boredom getting to him. Marielle glanced at him, concerned, but he was unworried- he’d been captured and tortured; forced to stay awake. He knew it was at least two days before he started shaking, three before hallucinations started.
Marielle straddled the bike’s saddle and Austin pulled a bottle of water from the pack at the back, took several swigs off it; downing about half, and then handed it to her as he leaned on the bike. She did the same; her bubblegum lips looking delectable as she did so. They became moist after she downed the rest of the water, discarding the bottle, and Austin rubbed his own bottom lip with his middle finger for a moment. He wanted his kiss.
In the silence, he dared to lift a thumb and stroke it down the back of her arm, towards her elbow.
She glared daggers at him, “I said no,” she hissed, reminding him that they’d said not to be in ‘affair mode’ from the night before. She understood that they’d been close about thirty-five minutes ago, but to her these were two separate things. One was Austin trying to comfort her, this was Austin trying to initiate sensual physical contact with her.
He swallowed and looked down, looking far too boyish and appealing to continue to say no to, so she was internally pleading that he’d stop. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I just want to be close to you,” he dared it again, gently touching her back, and cooling her.
Her cheeks burned; yes, she had needed him to do that, then but he was using it as an excuse to touch her. “Stop trying to use me to quell your anxiety right now,” she repeated, throwing him a glance over her right shoulder.
“You didn’t…” he came a little closer to her, and he brushed his lips across the back of her left ear, “want me to do that?” he whispered.
She turned to him, their lips inches from one another, and glowered. “Not now…” she breathed. “No.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair a few times and sighed, frustratedly, standing up straight. “Is it Vincent?” She didn’t answer; her tense jaw told him that it was in part. “Just tryin’ to fill some empty space,” he sighed.
“You’re trying to cover the tension that you’re feeling right now and you’re using me to do it. I told you, I’m not your toy.”
“I don’t think that you are,” he replied and his tone, ever soft, sounded genuinely hurt. He’d drawn in his eyebrows and was staring at the back of her head; wounded, and uncertain now. “You still see me as…” his voice trailed off.
“What, Austin? What should I see you as?” She ventured.
“A potential?” He ventured. She glared at him again, her mouth curving into an expression that seemed cruel to him. “Oh, okay,” he said dismissively.
“No, you’re not a potential,” she hissed, turning back to the street.
He stood away, and came to the front of the bike, leaning over the handlebars and slightly into her face where he looked up at her, “What would I have to do to be a potential in your mind? Or have you not realized that I’m fighting for you? That I want to be one?” He looked down, his hair curtaining his eyes, “I want to be in your consideration, Marielle.”
“No.”
“Why?” He demanded, and he threw a glance over his shoulder to be sure that they were okay.
“Because I don’t want what you have to offer.”
“What do you think that is?”
Her eyes found his, “heartbreak.” He licked his lips, and looked down, his mouth lacking a response, “I told you last night, I don’t do cheaters, Austin. I have very little patience for things like strip clubs, and adult video stores, and porn… I get it, porn happens sometimes- although even I have a threshold; I won’t stay with an addict. I am not, and will not be with someone who doesn’t fully and completely want me,” she kept eye contact with him, showing the seriousness of what she was saying, “and that means no one else.” She swallowed hard. “You might have figured this out, but I like sex, Austin,” he looked up at her, eyes dancing with excitement. “I mean that I am pretty much that girl who will be intimate and often without excuses. A man doesn’t have an excuse when it comes to me.” She rolled her eyes, “none of this ‘she wasn’t giving me any’ bullshit,” she continued, “only when it makes sense to wait; illness, baby delivery, and so on. After that, I love to make love,” she said flatly. He swallowed hard; he knew this about her, but hearing her say it was a whole new level of excitement for him. His mind was instantly full of their bodies tangled together under the sheets. “And I don’t want to ask you to give up what you love to be with me,” she went on. “You should love to be with me, and love yourself enough to know how much you’re hurting yourself… you should want me.”
“I do.”
“No, I mean without all of the rest.” He looked off, away from her, “it should be a desire, not a chore, not a need, a desire- to build complete intimacy with me as we grow old together… as you get lines in your face,” she said tenderly, and at this, she betrayed herself and ran a finger over his smile line which didn’t stick when he wasn’t grinning, yet. He briefly closed his eyes, desiring to slip her fingertip into his mouth; he’d gently suck. She dropped her hand realizing that she was touching him again, “when I get wrinkly and fat, hell… when you go blind, and I go deaf and we’re yelling at one another and tripping over the kids, and the cat, and who knows what else and breaking our hips just to get to the door.”
He grinned at her, adoringly shaking his head from side to side as a silent chuckle stuck in his throat. “Marielle we are intimate,” he lifted his left hand, fingers spread, waiting for her to meet it with her own, “here…” he reminded. -And here…
“I know… but it’s not enough for me. I need dedication, true commitment.” She didn’t meet her hand with his, and eventually he closed his fingers and put it down, feeling rejected and lost. “I need you to be better,” she begged. She didn’t mean that tone to come out, she’d simply meant to say it. But she found herself pleading… why? She wouldn’t answer that question now. She steeled and stopped herself before she reached up and ran her thumb over his lips.
He read her thoughts, here. -Oh, please do it. There was a pause and she shook her head, no. Another silence. “You talk about us being older, and blind and deaf, and fat, and wrinkled,” he chuckled. “Would you want to marry me… Marielle?” She tried to escape his gaze and looked away. A soft, smile crossed his mouth as the next words filtered into his mind, “Marielle Rancor? Would you- would you want my last name?” He stammered biting his lip, “I’ve kind of always hated it… it means rage, after all, or deep hatred,” he was rambling now, speaking fast. “In Latin it means, ‘I hold a grudge,’ And like I’ve been teased about it- the most classic was obviously, ‘Oh no, the Rancor!’ from Star Wars, and-”
She interrupted him, “I’d take it…” his eyes flicked to hers, and his jaw tensed. She continued, “if it meant just me, always.” Their eyes locked. “Me,” she insisted. “Me, only me, only us for the rest of your life. Then, maybe children…” She stated. “Me,” she repeated. “Only me,” she whispered, and she was aware again that he was getting a little closer to her face. Was he going to try that kiss that he kept desiring? “Only us.” She turned her head, making it clear that she would not accept a kiss right now. He was to remain focused on her words, and the situation; not on desire. “it’s what I’m worth,” she added. “So are you.” Once he backed off a little, she met eyes with him again, “If that’s what you want, Austin Rancor- if you want commitment, and love, and trust, and truth, and dedication until we are both old and gray and falling apart, and then one of us dies,” she took in a deep breath, “then maybe – and let me be clear because I do not like giving you any kind of false hope – maybe you and I have a future.” She paused, and reiterated herself, “if that’s what you want.”
He breathed out, raggedly; his eyes distant and unsure. This was the first time that she’d admitted that there might truly be a future for them, and he wasn’t sure why, but it felt like needles. “I think that it’s what I want,” he whispered, then he looked at her again, “I’m just not sure that it’s what I can do.”
She scoffed in her chest, “If you want something badly enough, you’ll find a way,” she insisted.
He nodded; he knew she was right. “You’re right. I’ll consider that.” There was a pause.
“You do that,” she growled, “because I’m done with all of the other bullshit. I’m too old, and too tired to be searching the globe for the one… I’m so over all of it,” she said quietly, staring at the bike seat. “You talk about us like we’ll be forever, too, you know?” she said with a large, exasperated sigh.
He swallowed, pausing. “It’s a classic story, isn’t it?” She looked at him with interest, “well, there’s a monster- or a monster of a man, anyways,” he said with the ghost of a smile resting on his lips, “and there’s perfection- in the form of a woman… and she changes him.”
“This isn’t a fairy tale, Austin,” she retorted. “And that’s not how this works,” she looked distant, “The only thing that’s going to change you is yourself.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a long while, and he leaned down a little so he was below her gaze, looking up into her face. “Are you angry with me, darling?” he whispered, gentle as ever.
“Yes,” she bit back, signaling the end of that conversation. He tilted his head forward, and moved back behind her, giving her space.
This was when a motorcycle came barreling down the street, passing them.
Austin hopped the bike, Marielle straightening to allow him to drive, and started the engine and pulled it out of the building, and onto the path following the rider.
Once the rider knew that he was being followed he stopped, skidding the bike towards them and removed his helmet with a smirk…Cory. He flashed them both a prize-winning smile, replaced his helmet and showed them that he had the spike before taking off again.
Austin growled and Marielle spoke into her earpiece, “Nightwatch heading to site A, he has the spike. I repeat, he has the spike. We’re following him, but be ready. I don’t know what tricks he has up his sleeve.”
Liam’s voice came through the line, along with several other loud noises, “Uh…copy that… but there must be some kind of mistake,” Liam said, and Austin heard what sounded like a series of punches and someone yell something indistinguishable in the background. Then he heard Liam cry, “Molly!” and heard an explosion, and more cries. At this, Austin throttled the bike, and tried to catch up to him. “Cory’s already here…” Liam finished.