#Touch and Go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunshinehaze1 · 2 months ago

Text

Touch and Go

Pairing: virgin!Din x bi!Frankie

Summary: Din and Frankie meet in flight school. They quickly become friends, but could it be more?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. modern-ish AU (set in the early aughts). Din is 18, Frankie is in his early 20s. mentions of loss of both parents at a young age and associated trauma. yearning. idiots in love. mention of drinking to excess. smut. masturbation, hand job, blow job, anal fingering, protected anal sex, cum play. This fic is set in the early aughts, when “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was still in place for the U.S. Military. Under this policy, gay, lesbian and bisexual individuals could serve, but only if they kept their sexual orientation a secret. There is no explicit mention of this policy, but there is a mention of Din’s concern that his attraction to men will be discovered.

a/n: I did my best to research Army flight school training. For reference, WOCS stands for Warrant Officer Candidate School and WOFT stands for Warrant Officer Flight Training. If there are any glaring inaccuracies, please feel free to DM me. Thank you to my lovelies @80ssong & @peepawispunk for the beta reads. 😘

word count: 6,143

ao3 | ml

Din arrives at his assigned room, confirming the number on the plaque of the open door before he steps into the threshold. He glances around his new environment, flanked by bare-bones decor. A bunk bed against one wall, with two dressers and two desks abutted against the adjoining one. He's been in worse accommodations, but at least this one has a definitive end date. He can make this work for five weeks.

He observes a slender young man with broad shoulders that tapered into a slim waist bent forward over the bottom bunk, emptying his duffle bag. Garments and toiletries strewn haphazardly across the mattress. His standard-issue Army t-shirt strains across his back, pulling at the seams, and cargo pants frame his long legs.

Din quietly watches as he displays a few framed photos on the desk. He's able to make out that one photo shows an older couple, presumably his parents, while the other shows him and a woman who looks around his age. He presumes it's his sister. At least he hopes it's just his sister.

The young man turns around when he hears shuffling at the door. A broad smile extends across his face, dimpling his cheek, when he sees Din in the doorway. He strides toward him in three effortless steps with his arm extended. He introduces himself and pulls Din in with a half hug, his wide palm patting him on the back.

"Good to meet you, man." He pats Din's bicep as he pulls back from the embrace. "My name's Frankie."

Din's gaze sweeps to the floor; he did not expect such a warm introduction. Conflicted by the discomfort he felt but also the desire to be touched again. By him.

He lifts his eyes from the floor; Frankie's warm smile hasn't shifted. "Din. It's nice to meet you, too."

A silence falls between the two of them—the awkwardness of a first meeting hangs thick in the air. Frankie steps out of Din's way and returns to the bunk. Din slips the duffel bag from his shoulder and lets it fall to the floor with a thud. Din remains stock still in the middle of the room. As he took a longer look at his new surroundings, his eyes were pulled once again to Frankie. He watches him as he continues to unpack his bag, the sturdy khaki-colored cotton stretched across the planes of his ass cheeks. This could be the longest five weeks of his life.

When Frankie is done unpacking, he returns upright and faces Din, "Do you have a preference?"

His reverie interrupted. Din clears his throat, "A preference?" Hoping that Frankie didn't catch him staring at him.

"Yeah, man." Frankie slams his hand on the bunk bed frame, fingers wrapped around the pole firmly. "Top or bottom?"

"Uh, yeah." Din nods. "Bottom is fine if that's good for you?"

Frankie ascends the metal rungs of the ladder and throws himself against the mattress with a grunt. He links his fingers together behind his head. "Fine by me!"

With sleeping arrangements settled, Din starts to unpack his duffle bag. He removes his clothes carefully so as not to disturb the precise creases and folds that were meticulously crafted. He easily transfers his clothing into the dresser drawers, aligning them in organized rows.

"So, where are you from?" Frankie leans over the edge of the bunk as Din looks up at him.

Din stiffens and mutters. "Oh, here and there." He is always cautious about revealing too much about himself.

Frankie tuts but intuits that Din doesn't want to be pressed further, so he doesn't. "That's cool, man. I'm from Florida. This is my first time in Alabama." he laughs to himself, "It's not much different, though."

Din relaxes his shoulders, thankful Frankie doesn't push his inquiry any further. He returns his focus to unpacking. There isn't much else outside of his clothes and toiletries, so it doesn't take him long until his duffel bag is empty. He's not had the luxury of being able to hold onto sentimental objects. His years filled with moving from group home to group home, so he's an expert at packing lightly and efficiently.

It doesn't take long for Din and Frankie to become friends. Within the first few days, they learn that they have both dreamt of becoming pilots since they were young. Frankie wants to fly helicopters, while Din aspires to be a fixed-wing aircraft pilot.

Both loved to build model aircraft, and they've read every possible aviation-related book from their local libraries. A fact that they'd never be able to share with the rest of their cohort is that their favorite movie is Top Gun. It is blasphemous to even think about it on an Army base, let alone admit to it. The Army-Navy rivalry is way too strong.

Frankie told Din about the airshows his parents took him to. He'd spend so many hours staring at the sky, mouth agape, watching all types of aircraft whiz through the sky that he'd end up with a crick in his neck. He loved to watch the Blue Angels, a different formation with each pass across the field. It wasn't until his early teens that he discovered his love of helicopters, awed by their sheer size, force, and ability to navigate tough terrain.

Frankie decided to enlist after he completed his four-year degree. Which makes him a few years older than Din, who joined the Army right out of high school. Din didn't have many options as someone who had to practically claw their way through their childhood with scant resources and support.

Their days of WOCS consist of a couple of hours of PT each morning. They wake up at the crack of dawn to run miles around the base, completing an indescribable amount of burpees, jumping jacks, and pull-ups. PT was followed by hours of in-class training and dinner in the mess hall. When the sun lowered in the sky, they would return to the barracks to shower and study for the rest of the night.

The showers. Communal showers at that. It took a while for Din to get used to it. He was still self-conscious, having to shower with multiple men at the same time. He had never gotten used to the idea of being naked around others and was relentlessly teased in high school for wearing swim trunks when he would shower after gym class.

Din was also worried he'd be found out. The evidence of his attraction to men is hard to hide in your birthday suit. He faced an insurmountable level of restraint so as not to let his mind wander, especially about Frankie. He'd have to avert his eyes as much as possible; his eyes practically burn holes into the tile grout with the intensity of his stare.

But when Frankie's back was turned toward him, Din's will all but dissolved. Unable to not look when Frankie stepped out of the shower stall—admiring his form glistening with water droplets that beaded across the broad expanse of his shoulders. His eyes would follow the errant path of a single water droplet as it travels down his back. Observing it as it collected other solo droplets to form an even larger one until it finally met its end, absorbed by the plush towel slung low around Frankie's tapered waist.

Heat coiled within Din's stomach, blood rushing to his cock. Jolted by the impending hard-on, he had to quickly think of anything BUT Frankie, willing his cock to go down. He took deep breaths, pressing his palm against the white terry cloth in an attempt to conceal it.

Frankie caught Din a few times, staring at him in the mirror as he wrapped the towel around his waist. His stomach bubbled at the heat of Din's gaze on his back. His beautiful friend admiring his body. Shivers run up and down his spine. If anyone were to ask about the goose pimples forming on his arms, he would blame it on the chill of exiting the warm shower.

Early on, Din realized how homesick Frankie was. He talked about his family a lot. Every time he came back to the room after his daily phone call with them, his mood was solemn. The gregariousness was replaced with sulking. He struggled with how to console Frankie in these moments, not having much experience expressing emotions.

He did his best to bring Frankie out of his solemn mood. Crack a joke, ask him about how his parents are doing and what his sister is up to. He'd remind him of his reasons for being here and that he'll have an opportunity to see his family soon. They'll be visiting him at some point in the near future, and once they can finally take leave, he can visit them.

Din wasn't sure if any of it was helpful, but he tried. Feeling homesick was unfamiliar to him, but he could relate to feeling lonely. He never really had a home. When he lost both of his parents before he was five, he was shuffled around the foster care system. His young laugh was filled with instability. Joining the Army was his way out and an opportunity to build a less chaotic life for himself.

If it weren't for Din, Frankie is certain he would have left training within the first couple of weeks. He felt very fortunate to have Din as his roommate and friend. Someone who was there to listen to him and reassure him that he was on the right path and that things would get easier.

Most nights, Frankie and Din would talk before falling asleep, each lying in their respective beds. Din would often find himself distracted by the thought of Frankie lying above him, bare-chested and only wearing boxers. He wished he could be near him instead of talking to him through the mattress.

After an especially grueling training day, Frankie and Din stumble into their respective beds shortly after their showers. There was no time for conversation as they both passed out quickly, and the exhaustion finally caught up with them.

A few hours later, Din is awoken by light moans and grunts echoing through the room. It takes him a moment to realize what he's hearing in his sleepy haze. He listens closely and can hear the din of skin slapping against skin, bare palms cracking across meaty flesh, and exaggerated moans of pleasure echoing through tinny speakers. He realizes the sound is coming from above him. Frankie must be watching a porn video.

He feels weird listening in, but Din cannot fall back asleep as his curiosity gets the better of him. He stiffens when he hears the snap of a flip-top cap, followed by the squelch of Frankie's palm stroking his cock and his soft moans. The frame of the bunk begins to shake, matching the faster strokes Frankie makes above him. Din's body remains rigid. Holding his breath and trying to avoid any sound or movement that would alert Frankie that he is awake—and listening.

Fascinated by the sounds coming out of his friend, he feels blood rushing to his cock and a roil in his stomach. His dick is now half hard; he isn't sure what to do, so he just remains still—waiting patiently for Frankie to finish.

Frankie emits a loud grunt a few minutes later and quickly pants to catch his breath. Din hears the sound of the porno stop with the close of the laptop, followed by a light thud against the mattress. He assumes Frankie has finally passed out, having expended enough energy with his recent release. He waits for another ten minutes, which feels like an eternity, to ensure Frankie is asleep and he won't disturb him before he dares to get up.

Din rises from his bed and tiptoes across the floor. He holds his breath while turning the doorknob, careful not to make a sound, closing the door gently behind him. Once he's safely in the corridor, he hustles to the communal bathroom, praying he doesn't encounter anyone with his now raging hard-on. He was so turned on after hearing Frankie jerk off that he was desperate for his own release so he could finally get some sleep.

Frankie heard the soft click of the door and peered over the bed frame to see that the bottom bunk was now empty. Could Din have heard him? He tried to remain as quiet as possible, but he couldn't suppress the noises he made as he imagined his best friend and his pouty lips wrapped around his cock. A thought that pushed him over the edge, groaning louder than he ever had as his spend spilled over his knuckles.

He's spent almost every waking hour with Din in the last few weeks. But the absolute torture of inhabiting the same room as him and not being able to do anything about his developing feelings for his friend became too much. He couldn't hold back any longer, all the pent-up horniness just begging to be released.

The five weeks of WOCS training went fast for Din. The weeks were a blur between the PT, coursework, meeting new people, and developing feelings for his best friend.

Before WOFT training begins, they must decide whether to remain on-base in housing or get an off-base apartment. Given how close they've become, they opt to room together in a two-bedroom, one-bath house on base. They don't want to break the bond they've formed. Din is grateful, considering Frankie has been the closest he's felt to a home. Frankie, still experiencing some homesickness, finds comfort in staying close to Din. Staying on base also allows them to get back and forth to the training facilities more easily.

Din and Frankie settle in quickly. Another perk of living on base is selecting a fully furnished home, eliminating the stress of finding furniture before their WOFT training begins. Din's only personalization to his room is a poster with a slick motorcycle surrounded by stylized graphics. He hopes to one day have a bike of his own. Even though he's never ridden one, he's certain it's meant for him. The same rush he feels in the air he could experience on land. Frankie appoints his bedroom with the same family photos he had on display in their shared room.

They fall into a similar pattern as they did while they were bunked in the barracks. However, they had more privacy with their own rooms. Dinner was at home rather than the mess hall and they had the freedom of coming and going when they pleased. After long days of training in flight simulators, coursework, and PT, they'd hang out to watch TV or play video games.

Frankie has noticed that Din has been slowly coming out of his shell. Frankie likes to think that he's had a hand in Din becoming more comfortable, even if it is just with him. Lowering his mask and letting him in. He's learned about Din's upbringing and the traumas he's faced. While he can't fully understand what he's been through, he's able to empathize and be supportive.

Frankie always makes an effort to ensure Din is included when they hang out with other officers in their training program. He would always make sure Din had an opportunity to engage in the conversation if he wanted to.

On the weekends, they spent their evenings at the local bar. Crowded with other enlistees, drinking away the intense week of training. Din was still too young to drink legally. So he usually took the role of keeping an eye on Frankie to ensure he didn't get too wasted.

After a few drinks, Frankie would flirt with the local women who were looking for their "man in uniform." Fortunately, it never went beyond flirting. However, it didn't make Din any less jealous of the attention Frankie was showering upon them.

He knew Frankie was bi. Frankie shared quite a bit about his past with Din. More of an open book, while Din is more sheltered and reserved. Din is still navigating his sexuality. He's not sure if he's gay or bi, and he's still a virgin. It's honestly not been a priority for him. The traumas he's already experienced haven't really provided much ambition to pursue relationships. What he does know is that he likes Frankie—a lot.

Frankie has been comfortable with his sexuality for some time, but it hasn't always been easy. He's fortunate enough to have supportive family and friends who thought nothing of him coming out. They love him for who he is and just want to see him happy.

He had a steady girlfriend during his last two years of high school. They broke up before he went off to college. Neither of them was interested in long-distance. While in college, he dated around casually until he met his first boyfriend, Richie, who was a year ahead. They were together until Richie graduated, and he moved to another state to complete his master's degree. He hasn't been with anyone since.

Even with the sting of watching Frankie flirt with anyone but him, Din always remained by his side to pick him up and make sure they got home safely. Once home, he'd steer Frankie into his bedroom. He'd remove his shoes before shifting him onto his bed and leave a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand.

Before he'd leave Frankie to his drunken slumber, Din would stare at him from the room's threshold. His eyes grazed over Frankie's form. He'd fallen in love with his best friend, and he was terrified. He didn't want to ruin the friendship, but he was unsure how long he could handle these unrequited feelings.

One evening, Din and Frankie were playing video games to relax after another long day. Din was struggling to get through the current level. He kept flailing in the corner, trying to change out his weaponry to fight the opposition effectively. Meanwhile, Frankie's avatar was left to fend for himself. Frankie tried to coach Din beside him. He would call out which buttons to press to maneuver around and complete the current level.

Din tossed the controller in frustration after he lost his third and final life. Frankie turned to him, the light framing the profile of his face. His aquiline nose was kissed with a beautiful scar at the bridge. His sharp jawline and brown eyes focused on the floor embarrassed that he couldn't figure out the game.

Frankie leans over, resting his palm on Din's shoulder. "Hey, man. It's all good, " he says. "You're getting the hang of it." Frankie gently squeezes Din's shoulder, "You'll get it."

He grabs the discarded controller from the floor and hands it back to Din. "Here, let me help."

Frankie scoots closer to Din, their thighs pressed against each other, the heat of each other's skin radiating through the fabric of their PJ pants. His arms loop through Din's. Frankie places his fingers over his, resting on the buttons. Din's body tenses, feeling the warmth of Frankie's arms against his, the closeness overwhelming him. He steels his focus back to the TV screen and presses the start button. "OK."

Frankie talks Din through the game moves and coaches him on the sequence of buttons to press and when to press them. With each move, he gently presses down on Din's thumb and index finger. He can feel his heart beating in his ears, and he hopes Frankie is too focused on the game to hear it beating through his chest. He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen as he works through the level with Frankie's guidance.

After a couple of evasive maneuvers and direct hits, "Level Complete" flashes quickly on the screen. "WHOOP! Yeah, man!" A warm palm lands between Din's shoulders. "You did it!"

A thin smile expands into a toothy grin, dimpling Din's cheeks. Frankie's palm hasn't moved, the warmth moving across Din's back in small circles.

Din dares to turn toward Frankie. He's beaming at him proudly. Eyes dance along the chiseled features of his face, leaving a trail along his warm brown eyes, pointed nose, and strong jawline before they finally land on his plush lips. "Thanks, man."

The air was thick. Frankie watches Din intently as his eyes remain fixed on his lips. Now is the perfect time for him to make a move. But at what cost? Din is his best friend. He doesn't want to lose him. What if Din doesn't feel the same? He'd ruin it with one fleeting mistake.

Fuck it.

Frankie throws caution to the wind and leans forward until his lips meet Din's—his heart races as he feels Din respond. They leaned in closer as their lips instinctively parted, slotting his lower lip between Din's. Tongues probe, exploring the terrain of each other's mouths. Frankie's hands move to grip the side of Din's face. He feels Din's hand grip around his wrist. Each tries to ground themselves to each other as they continue their pursuit with twisted tongues.

He had been waiting for this moment since the day he and Frankie first met. In disbelief that it was actually happening. It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real. This must all be a dream—suspended in the air overlooking someone else's life. Watching as his closest friend, his best friend, is kissing them. It couldn't possibly be him experiencing this joy.

It was happening so fast. One minute, they were playing their favorite multiplayer video game, and the next, Frankie's lips crashed into his—a mixture of shock, relief, and desire roiling in Din's body.

Din tried to temper the worry bubbling up in his mind. What does this mean for their friendship? What if Frankie is just lonely or horny, and Din is an easy release? Available and waiting. He couldn't handle losing his best friend, who he's pretty certain is the love of his life, all at once.

Frankie pulls away from the kiss, gasping for air and shaking his head. Nervously, he rubs the back of his neck, lifting his head to capture Din's shocked stare, "I've wanted to do that since we first met."

Din's mouth was agape at Frankie's confession. His heart swelled, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He's certain Frankie can hear the incessant thumping this close. He looked up cautiously and breathed out, "Me too."

Frankie responds with a warm smile, his eyes disappearing as it takes over his face. He leans in to kiss Din again, grabbing his head between his callused palms and breaching the seam of his lips with his tongue.

The air is charged, and Frankie doesn't want to stop. And by the hard-on tenting Din's PJ bottoms, he presumes Din doesn't either. They can figure out what all of this means for their relationship later. Frankie clears his throat, "How are you feeling?"

Frankie watches as Din swallows; his Adam's apple bobs before he answers, "G-good. I'm good. Great, even."

Frankie huffs a laugh and squeezes Din's knee. "Yeah, me too." His eyes held Din's adoring gaze, "Do you want to go to your room?"

Din nods.

Frankie takes Din's hand and leads him to the foot of his bed. Frankie's bulge protruded through his grey sweatpants. Without any underwear on, the full outline of his cock is on display. He traces the bottom hem of Din's t-shirt. His breath hitches as Frankie's hand slides underneath the shirt and presses his warm, calloused palm over his stomach. Feeling the taut muscle, he glides his hand over the coarse smattering of hair above the waistband of his PJ pants.

"Is this ok?" Frankie asks as his fingertips begin to snake underneath Din's pants.

Din's throat is thick, and his brain struggles to form the word "yes," so he nods in the affirmative.

Frankie smiles, pleased at his effect on Din right now. "Good." He leans in to kiss Din as his hand moves further into his pants until he reaches Din's cock, palming it over his boxer briefs.

Din shudders, "I've…I've never done this before." Din squeaks out. Frankie pauses before he pulls out his hand and places both of them on Din's waist.

"Like, with a man," he stares quizically, "or at all?"

Din's eyes dart around the room, unable to look at Frankie. "At all." he finally admits after a long pause.

Frankie's eyes go soft, and his hands move to Din's face. "Hey. Hey. It's okay. " He offers what he hopes is enough assurance to calm his best friend: "We'll go slow. We've got time."

Grateful for Frankie's understanding amidst his embarrassment, he looks at him with a small smile and says, "OK."

Frankie presses a chaste kiss on Din's lips before he gently guides him to sit on the bed. Still standing, Frankie pulls his shirt over his head, slips his thumbs into his waistband, slides them over his slim hips, and lets them fall to the floor, puddling around his feet. He steps out of them while he gives his cock a few gentle tugs, a bead of precum leaking from his tip.

His mouth suddenly dry, Din swallows as he ogles Frankie's beautiful cock. Thick and uncut, a prominent vein runs along its impressive length. Frankie chuckles, "Do you want to taste it?"

"Mhm," Din mutters.

Frankie swipes the bead of precum from his tip with his index finger and brings it to Din's lips. He quickly wraps his pouty lips around the digit, swirling his tongue to clean it of Frankie's spend and hums.

Frankie moans, smiling as he looks at Din, "What do you think?"

Din releases Frankie's finger from his mouth to answer, "I like it." He grins. "I like it a lot."

"That's good, baby." Frankie cradles Din's chin in his palm, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip. "Do you want more?"

"Please," Din replies, his eyes black with lust.

Frankie grips his cock and steps closer to Din, the tip of his cock less than an inch from his face. "Open up."

Din opens his mouth. Frankie teases the tip of his dick around Din's lips before sliding it into his mouth. Hesitant at first, Din begins to flick his tongue over the head, and Frankie groans above him. He begins to feed more of his cock into Din's mouth, placing his hand gently at the back of his head. Encouraging Din's movements.

"Breathe through your nose, baby." Frankie coos. "Take it slow. You look so hot with my cock in your mouth."

Din preens at the praise and feels the blood rush straight to his impossibly hard cock. Seeking relief, he palms the front of his pants as he bobs his head back and forth on Frankie's cock. Drool spills out of the corner of his mouth, and a swift swipe of Frankie's thumb clears it away.

Frankie is impressed with Din's skill, a natural at sucking dick. Din picks up the pace, taking Frankie's cock into his mouth as far as he can until it hits the back of his throat. "Oh! Fuck." Frankie groans. "Fuck!"

He quickly pulls out of Din's mouth, and Din whines at the emptiness. Now that he's had a taste, he only wants more. "You're too good at that." Frankie smiles. "Almost came down that pretty throat of yours."

Din's glassy eyes look up at Frankie, "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all." He explains, "It's…just, I want to take my time with you."

"Oh." Din's gaze drifts to the floor. "OK."

Frankie captures Din's chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts it upward to look at him. "Stand up for me?"

Din gets up from the bed, still fully clothed, while Frankie's naked body is proudly on display in front of him. Frankie fingers the hem of Din's shirt. He sweetly asks, "Can I?"

"Yeah." Din nods.

Frankie begins to pull the shirt up, and Din lifts his arms over his head. He tosses the shirt to the floor, leans in, and kisses Din's lips—a soft kiss on his cheek, his jaw, and down the column of his neck. Frankie's lips traipse along his collarbone, working his way down Din's chest until he meets his nipple. His tongue flicks kitten licks over the sensitive bud before taking it into his mouth and suckling it. Din whimpers at the sensation, a hand cradling the back of Frankie's head to ground himself.

After he lathes over his other nipple, Frankie moves down to Din's taut stomach. A six-pack has started to peek through with all of the rigorous training exercises over the last few months. Frankie glides his tongue over the muscle and makes his way to the coarse hair just below his belly button.

Frankie looks up, seeking Din's permission to move further. The heat swirling in Din's stomach has made him dizzy, but he quickly nods, anticipating what's next.

Frankie pulls down Din's pants, and his boxer briefs soon follow. Frankie wraps his hand around Din's length. Stroking along the shaft, swiping the precum from the tip to aid his movement. Din emits a shuddering breath at Frankie's firmer grip. His strokes speed up as he leans forward to capture Din's lips with his.

Din's hands grip Frankie's shoulders to steady himself. He feels his balls begin to tighten, and he quickly pulls himself away; Frankie chases after his lips. "I…I'm going to come if you keep doing that."

Frankie smiles cheekily, "Alright." Pressing a soft kiss on one cheek. "Lay down, baby." He leaves a kiss on his other cheek.

Din swiftly obeys Frankie's command. His back against the plaid comforter, he strokes his cock while Frankie slowly climbs over him. Frankie freezes suddenly.

"Oh, shit!" Frankie exclaims. "I'll be right back!" He pats Frankie on his hip and shuffles out the door.

Din, confused, lifts his head from the bed as Frankie's naked form exits the room. His focus was drawn to the globes of his ass. The first time he's been able to get a good look. And it was worth the wait.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with a couple of gold foil packets in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. Din laughs internally.

Frankie crawls back on the bed and hovers over Din. "You still want this?"

"Yes." Din's breath was shaky. "More than anything."

Frankie leans forward with a chaste kiss. "Ok, we'll go slow, remember?"

Din nods.

Frankie flips the top open on the bottle of lube. "I'm going to start with my fingers, k?"

"Yeah." Din breathes out.

Frankie presses Din's thighs into his chest, exposing the tight hole between the valley of his cheeks. Frankie licks his lips, desire flaming within his belly. He drizzles the lube over the opening, and Din clenches at the feel of the cool liquid. Frankie coats his index finger with lube before he closes the cap.

He approaches slowly, teasing the outer ring of muscle with the tip of his finger. He watches Din's reactions to make sure he's still comfortable while he circles around his entrance without breaching it. By the dazed look on his face, Frankie is certain he's enjoying this.

"I'm going to go in with just the tip of my finger, ok?"

Din eagerly nods, "Yes."

With that, Frankie breaches Din's hole to the first knuckle. The tight muscle gripping him. Din moans at the feeling, eager for more but savoring the moment.

"Still good?"

"Yeah, so good," Din replies. "More?"

Frankie chuckles, "Sure thing, baby."

He slides his digit further, agonizingly slow. His eyes are locked onto Din's in search of any discomfort as he continues his intrusion. Din whimpers when Frankie reaches his prostate. An unfamiliar but entirely pleasurable feeling.

Frankie smiles to himself as he watches Din's eyes flutter shut. "Think you can take another?"

"God, yes. More." Din breathless. "It feels so incredible."

Frankie removes his finger and drizzles lube over his index and middle fingers. He then returns to Din's opening, pursuing a familiar approach, and takes his time opening Din up.

Once Frankie reaches the last knuckle, he gently strokes the tip of his fingers along the sensitive spot. His other hand grips Din's cock. He leans forward and releases a stream of spit along the shaft as he slowly strokes his cock. Din wails, "Frankie, oh my god!"

"Feel good, baby?" Frankie coos.

"It's amazing, but I need more."

Frankie releases Din's cock and softly pats his ass. "Ok," Din groans as Frankie removes his fingers from his asshole. "I got you."

Frankie sits back on his heels, stroking his cock. He reaches for a gold packet, tears it open, and slowly rolls the condom over his length.

His other hand on the back of Din's thigh, he crouches forward to look at him. "Are you ready?"

"Please. God, yes."

Frankie coats his shaft in lube and spreads it along the latex sheath. He squirts more over Din's puckering asshole. Not wanting to hurt Din during his first time.

The tip of Frankie's dick teases Din's entrance before he begins feeding it, inch by painstaking inch. Pausing to let Din adjust. Frankie grunts with each clench of the tight muscle around him, holding him in a vise grip.

Once Frankie has gone as far as he can, he leans forward. "You're taking me so well, baby." He peppers sweet kisses over Din's face. "I'm going to start, ok?"

"Yeah. Ok." Din sighs. He's not sure how much longer he'll last. This whole experience has been better than he ever imagined, and he's been on a hair trigger all night.

Frankie retreats slowly until just the tip rests inside Din's hole. Din lets out a shattered moan. He pushes himself back in and repeats his thrusts in earnest. He's been on edge since their first kiss; it won't take him long, but he wants to make sure he and Din come together.

Frankie wraps his hand around Din's shaft and begins pumping in tandem with his strokes. The tip of his cock touching that sweet spot inside Din with each thrust.

"You look so good." Frankie praises. "Such a good boy, taking all of me like this."

Din stammers, "Frankie…" he's unable to hold back the moan that tumbles out, "I'm, hnnngh…fuck…"

Din's balls tighten, his asshole clenches around Frankie's cock tighter, the heat roiling in his stomach at the precipice of his release. Frankie mumbles, "I know, I know. Let go."

With that, Din's eyes flutter shut. "Oh, god! Frannnkiiieee!!" He wails as spurts of cum shoot haphazardly across his stomach and chest.

"That's it," Frankie grunts, his climax not far behind. One, two, three more pumps, and he explodes into the condom. He falls forward, hovering over Din while he catches his breath.

After a moment, he pulls back and swipes his fingers along Din's chest, scooping up his spend. His eyes meet Din's as he takes them into his mouth and savors the taste before releasing his fingers with a pop. "Mmm. You taste so good." Frankie picks up another dollop and slides his finger into Din's mouth for him to taste. "Perfect."

When Frankie's dick softens inside Din, he grips the base of the condom and gently pulls out. Din groans at the loss of him. Frankie removes the condom and heads to the bathroom to dispose of it. Din hears the faucet turn on and off, and Frankie soon returns with a warm washcloth.

His weight shifts the mattress as he leans over Din to clean up the remnants of his spend. Frankie tosses the washcloth to the floor and moves to lie next to Din.

"How do you feel?" Frankie's fingers dance along Din's chest.

"Great. Amazing. Incredible." Din spits out before looking at Frankie, "Happy."

Frankie smiles. One of those broad smiles that consumes his entire face. "Me, too." He leans over to capture Din's lips in a heated kiss.

The shrill of Din's alarm clock shakes him out of his deep sleep. He's enveloped in warmth. As his eyes adjust to the sunlight beaming into his bedroom window, he takes stock of his current position. A sinew of muscle wrapped around his stomach, trailing up to a strong bicep. Frankie's eyes are still closed, his breathing light and a smile stretches across his face.

Din admires the beautiful man who has him wrapped firmly in his embrace, giving him a sense of comfort and safety for the first time. It feels like he finally has a place he can call home.

Frankie.

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 🫶🏻

npt for folks who engaged with my WIP Wednesday posts for this fic (pls let me know if you’d like to be removed):

@baronessvonglitter @almostempty @for-a-longlongtime @laprofesoratinacita @inept-the-magnificent

@half-moon16 @ak-vintage @arcanefox207 @bunniboo0015 @probablyreadinsmut

#din djarin #frankie morales #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal character fiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #touch and go

107 notes · View notes

phoebepheebsphibs · 1 year ago

Text

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 28: Touch and Go

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Dr. Chaplin walks into the Operation Room, accompanied by two men.

Dr. Timothy and Dr. Finn are speaking quietly, mumbling over a poor test subject that didn't survive their most recent mutation experiments.

"...I thought that the addition of his blood would have worked..." Timothy bemoans to his coworker.

"Perhaps the miracle we're looking for is not in the blood as it is now, but how it was before we changed it... There must be some secret we're missing--"

"Ahem," Chaplin says as he arrives. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Ah, Dr. Chaplin!" Abigail Finn exclaims, turning around and pasting an anxious smile across her face. "N-no, no, of course not..."

Abigail notices the two men standing behind him. One is almost seven feet tall by the looks of it, the other is bordering five feet. The taller man is the size of a bull, thick and heavy and absolutely rippling with muscles. The shorter man is thin as a rail, slicked-back greasy hair and a thin wiry mustache that almost makes him look like a mouse or a rat. The two men look like night and day, but both wear very expensive suits and ties which do not match either man's personalities.

"...Who're the guests?" Abigail asks curiously.

"These are Mr. Touch and Mr. Go. They are some... shall we say, 'men for hire' that I've employed to assist in the recapture of our lost experiment from Project Venus."

"Mikey," Dr. Timothy nods. "Good. What are their qualifications?"

"Stunning accuracy," Chaplin lists off. "Mr. Touch has enhanced strength and Mr. Go has enhanced speed. They were members of a special program designed to create super soldiers several years ago. Before then they were mercenaries for hire."

"Mercenaries, eh?" Timothy says with a soft grimace. "I'm not sure..."

"A merc doesn't know how to handle with care," Abigail interjects. "The TCRI want Mikey back in pristine condition."

"As I mentioned, stunning accuracy for these two. They've never once failed a mission, as far as the records go."

Mr. Touch cracks his knuckles loudly.

"Now now, gentlemen. These two are some of our most esteemed scientists here at the TCRI and EPF Labs. Whatever they say is law. Just ask Jeff," Dr. Chaplin jokes, gesturing to an empty cage in the distance. "Oh. Hm. Where's Jeff?"

"In a jar," Dr. Timothy grumbles. "I'm studying his brain."

"Ah! Well, there you go, gentlemen. I'm sure you all will have a wonderful time procuring the lost experiment again. And boys, play nicely with the mutant target or you'll be helping Dr. Timothy here with his brain studies. And Timothy, Finn, be polite and patient with these fine men or else we might not be getting anyone else to help us recover Mikey..."

Dr. Chaplin leaves the room in silence. Abigail grunts with irritation before plastering another smile on her face and directing the two men to a computer.

"This won't be easy for you. Mikey was designed to be the perfect genetic weapon. He also has enhanced strength, speed, agility, plus some other quirks. I'll print you out a list..."

"M'sure we can handle him," Mr. Touch chuckles. "I've yet to wrastle with a critter that can outmatch my muscle."

"Don't get cocky," Abigail snaps. "And don't hurt him. We want him perfectly intact and alive."

"Don't worry, we'll retrieve your little pet," Mr. Go snickers. "Where is it, anyway?"

"Last we saw, he was hiding out in the sewers --"

"With extra mutants," Timothy interrupts. "which we will pay extra for the capture of."

"Timothy--?"

"How much we talkin'?" Mr. Go asks, a smile creeping onto his thin face.

"How much were you promised for the capture of Mikey?" Timothy questions.

"75 grand," Mr. Touch states.

"I'll personally pay you $50,000 for each mutant you can capture," Timothy promises. "Though, the price will be reduced for any major injuries I find."

"Only 50?" Mr. Touch grumbles.

"They aren't nearly as genetically advanced as Mikey is, so they should be simpler to capture. But an extra 50,000 for any extra mutants you can find isn't that bad, now is it? We have confirmation of at least two mutants that are with him, so that would be $100,000 guaranteed. We could all use a little extra spending money here and there, couldn't we?"

"Done deal," they reply.

"Wonderful. Now, what will you be requiring for your endeavours? Any weapons, traps, something to carry the subjects in I'd assume?"

"Might as well show us whatchya got," Mr. Go says.

Abigail groans in irritation as Timothy leads the two men away, muttering to herself as he shows them all their experimental gadgets.

"I can't believe him... He has no authorization to make that call. Though, it would be helpful to have extra mutants for our tests... In the end, I guess it doesn't really matter; the goal is still the same. So long as they can find Mikey and we can continue the work..."

Abigail walks away to catch up with the men.

From the far back of the room, John Bishop walks out.

Hmm. This isn't good...

Maybe he should follow along for now, see what happens...

Doctors Timothy and Finn show the two mercenaries the tranquilizer darts they have, the frost guns, nets, communication devices, trackers, etc. They show them Mikey's last known location and give the images of the human teen and the mutant brother. Mr. Touch and Mr. Go roam the room, choosing the items they'll need like children choosing which sweets they want the most from a candy store.

Bishop doesn't have much time. He slinks around to the exit and rushes to Honeycutt's labs, calling him as he runs into the elevators.

"Professor Zayton Honey--"

"Hey doc it's me how are ya that's great I was wondering if I could borrow any gear you might have?"

The line is silent.

"Oh, this is Bishop by the way."

"Um... yes, well I figured... How's your mother--"

"Forget that for now, do you have any gear I can use?!"

"W-why do you need my gear?"

"Chaplin brought in two thugs to detain Mikey and the others that are protecting him," Bishop whispers. "Timothy and Finn are showing them the weapons they have. I'm going to tail them to keep them from getting him. Now, do you or don't you have anything I can use?"

"U-uh, m-m-maybe. How close are you?"

The elevator doors open and Bishop runs out to Honeycutt's office.

"Just about to open your door."

"Oh! Well, yes, um, I think I have something you might be able to use --"

Bishop swings the door open and runs in, causing Prof. Honeycutt to jump in fright.

"Agh! John! You're here! You weren't kidding --"

"I need whatever you can give me now," Bishop states frantically. "They could leave the lab at any point and I need to stay close."

"But John -- well, you know me, I'd prefer to stay out of it --"

"You are staying out of it, I just need something to defend myself and keep Mikey safe."

"Oh well... Yes, yes, of course! Um, there are a f-few prototypes on the table over, over there!" Honeycutt stutters. "A-are you looking for lethal, or semi-lethal?"

"Anything," Bishop says quickly. "I'd rather not hurt anyone, but they're enhanced so I might have to go fully lethal."

"Enhanced?" Honeycutt says with a nervous swallow.

"No time to explain," Bishop says as he looks over the table and grabs a futuristic-looking pistol. "What does this do?"

"Oh! That's my jelly-gun!" Honeycutt says with a soft and nervous chuckle. "It's one of the non-lethals, but it hasn't been tested yet--"

"Jelly-gun?"

"It l-liquifies your bones."

"...And this is a non-lethal weapon?"

"T-the effect isn't permanent," Honeycutt stammers. "I-it's meant to be a stunner, t-to incapacitate!"

"How do you know the effects aren't permanent if you haven't tested it yet?" Bishop asks warily.

"..."

"...I'll handle it with caution, then."

Bishop gently places the 'jelly-gun' in a holster.

"What else do you have?" he asks, picking up a series of miniature grenades.

"Those are my noise-makers, you pull the pin and have five seconds before it will emit a high-pitched ringing that causes disorientation and bleeding from the ears if you stand within a ten yard radius."

"Mm. Handle with caution?"

"Handle with caution."

Bishop pushes the noise grenades into a pocket of a satchel Honeycutt hands him as he continues to go through the tech, grabbing what looks good and intact. A net launcher, a harpoon launcher/grappling gun, and a gun that actually does shoot a jelly-like substance which hardens instantly.

"Anything else you can offer me?"

"This," Honeycutt says, handing Bishop a small device that resembles a portable dvd player. "It works like a sonar detector, scanning your surroundings and comparing them to satellite images to create a map of the area around you within a 50 mile radius. It will detect any creatures, bodies of water, or large obstacles within that radius as well."

"Thanks, this should really come in handy," Bishop says quickly. "I have to get going. Do you need all this stuff back, or...?"

"If you can," Honeycutt sighs. "But honestly I'm more worried about you coming back. You're going to go fight two enhanced mercenaries? Even if you can beat them --"

"Your faith in me is astounding, by the way..." Bishop grumbles.

"-- Even if you can beat them, Chaplin or Timothy will discover your involvement, won't they? What do you think they'll do to you then?"

"Well, I guess I'll just have to do my best to not get caught and not get dead."

Honeycutt stutters nervously after hearing the word 'dead'. He tries to respond and air his concerns, but Bishop runs out quickly to catch up with Mr. Touch and Mr. Go.

Bishop watches the two men from a distance, catching up to them just as they leave the building. They follow the tracker's last coordinates to an alley out of sight. Mr. Go checks to make sure it's all clear before Mr. Touch reaches down and pulls the manhole cover off the sewer entrance.

Okay, so he's a little stronger than most people, nothing to be worried about --

Mr. Touch throws the heavy cast iron covering like it's a cheap plastic frisby, sending it flying off into the wall where it gets lodged in between the bricks.

...Okay, so he's exceptionally strong. No biggie. Just... don't get too close.

Mr. Go descends first, Mr. Touch following after. Bishop waits a few moments before running after them into the alley. He peers down into the sewer. Mr. Go has already made it to the bottom, but Mr. Touch is only a third of the way down. Bishop backs away before they can see him, and goes to the next alley over, entering the sewers from there.

Bishop slides down the ladder quickly, and peeks around the corner. The two men are walking down the halls by the water's edge. Bishop continues to tail them, staying at a safe distance as they look around for evidence of Mikey or his family. Bishop spends the time following them wondering what kinds of experiments they would perform on Mikey's brothers if they could get their hands on them. What kinds on horrors they would put Mikey through again. What they'll do to Bishop if they discover his treachery...

After several minutes, they come to the last tracked location of Mikey -- the lair.

Bishop watches as the men leave their tools and tech outside the electric barrier and step through the invisible fence. Mr. Go takes a deep breath before zooming away.

Yeah, so he's quick. Saw that one coming.

Mr. Touch waits for his partner, tapping his foot against the stone floor impatiently. Mr. Go comes back out a second later, readjusting his suit and tie which had gotten windblown.

"It's all clear. The place is totally empty."

The two men walk inside, forced to leave their weapons behind the EMP barrier so they don't get fried.

Bishop gets an idea...

He quietly creeps up -- leaving his own bag of gadgets behind -- and places the weapons on the inside of the EMP barrier. One by one, each device flickers with sparks before going kaput. Once his task is complete, he quickly rushes back to his hiding spot and waits for the mercs' return.

After about twenty minutes, the two walk out.

"...they packed what they could and ran. The muties could be anywhere by now!"

"You think they knew we were coming?" Mr. Go wonders aloud.

"Probably. That computer room looked pretty high tech."

"But that doesn't explain how they managed to get out so quickly. Chaplin only just had us come in today, and there's been no chatter on the EPF net about our arrival."

"So, whaddya thinkin'?" Mr. Touch asks.

"I suspect that the Earth Protection Force might not be as 'protected' as they think. There must be a mole."

Bishop's breath gets caught in his throat. He can't let them find him out!

Yet another reason he has to stop them.

"I bet they'll pay us extra if we can find the traitor," Mr. Touch chuckles.

"But in the meantime, let's find that mutie. Remember what we're actually being paid for," Mr. Go reminds him.

"Well, can you track him from here?"

"What do you take me for, an amateur? Of course I can. Grab the gear and we'll head out."

Mr. Touch gathers up all the supplies, and the two walk away. Bishop gives chase.

Mr. Go leads them down the tunnels until they reach a wrecked cave-in. Mr. Touch is kind enough to clear the way for them, revealing what Bishop can only assume was Mikey's previous home before something terrible happened. Claw marks and long gashes across the painted walls prove his theory.

A large, gaping hole resides in the floor, tunneling down to a secret hidden world. Bishop's mouth drops in shock.

"...What'chya wanna bet he's down there?" Mr. Go asks with a snicker.

"What even is it, one of them secret societies?"

"Who cares, as long as we find what we're looking for!"

The two men jump down into the hole. Bishop watches them descend.

....Maybe he'll look for stairs.

It takes a few hours, but Bishop finally makes his way down safely. He finds the two mercenaries wandering the streets of this underground city, checking everyone and everywhere for Mikey.

Bishop is in awe of how many mutants there are down here! It's crazy! And Timothy offered to pay extra for any they brought back...

This whole community could be in danger!

Fortunately, the two men are focused on looking for Mikey. That's what they're really being paid for. Dissatisfied by the masses in the street square, the two leave towards a series of larger buildings in the distance.

He stays just out of sight of the Mr. Touch and Mr. Go as he goes after them. As he tails them, Bishop tries to stay focused on the two villains rather than get distracted by this otherworldly society. He feels so out of place surrounded by these monsters, mythical beasts, and magical creatures. People that resemble animals or aliens or dragons or some mix between the three walk around and watch him like he's the freak.

Maybe he is, down here... Huh.

Well, that's some existential identity crisis he'll have to go through later.

Mr. Touch and Mr. Go arrive at a building with a strange rainbow aurora borealis surrounding the area behind it. Mr. Go surveys the area with super speed before coming back and nodding to Mr. Touch.

"He's here."

"Positive?" Mr. Touch asks.

"Gotta be. That other mutie turtle Dr. Timothy showed us is here, so he must be, too."

Other turtle mutant... What did that kid call him... Leo? Leo! Wait, so they are here? Then where's Mikey?

"Do we get the extra mutants first or what?"

"No, he's busy with a bigger freak right now."

"I can take 'em both," Mr. Touch chuckles. "It'd be like bending a couple o' twigs..."

"Fine, but be discreet about it. Here, use one of the gadgets that lab nerd gave us -- Wait, what the --?!"

The two men try to activate what looks like a gas bomb, but nothing happens.

"This thing's defective! All this junk is defective!" Mr. Go growls.

"I can still take 'em both, you know that," Mr. Touch says, cracking his knuckles.

"It's almost like this guy wants to fight," Bishop thinks aloud. "What a charmer..."

"And where are we supposed to keep them once we capture them? You gotta think!" Mr. Go scolds. "Besides, they are also superpowered! One of them can do portals, and that second one I saw was almost as big as you! My guess is he has enhanced strength, too... And even if we did overpower them, they're out in the middle of everything, everyone can see us! And we have no real sighting of that Mikey mutant. Let's play it cool for now and get them later. AFTER we find Mikey."

Mr. Touch groans loudly.

"Fine. But I want that extra pay."

"And we'll get it, don't worry. By the end of the day, our biggest worry is going to be finding fatter wallets!" Mr. Go snickers. "Now let's find that freak show..."

Bishop swallows nervously. He hasn't met Mikey's brothers yet, not officially. But if they're anything like that human kid, then they would assume that he's a villain because he works for the EPF.

Just more people he has to avoid...

John Bishop runs after the two mercenaries before stopping in his tracks and awing at the strange area around him. A large opening surrounded by rainbow mist reveals a tropical paradise and a beach.

Huh. Okay. Not what he was expecting, but... yeah. Beach. Why not?

Bishop wishes he'd brought some shorts or something to help with the heat of the tropics, but sighs in resignation as he runs after the two men...

Casey is tanning on the beach chair just outside of the portal. He takes in a deep breath and heaves a relaxed sigh...

He's never been on vacation before.

Heck, he's pretty sure he's never relaxed before!

It's a new experience, and he's not totally convinced he's got the knack of it yet, but he's learning. Splinter has been giving him pointers.

Casey smiles at the warmth of the sun on his skin. It's so hot, he's abandoned his cloak and armour and jumpsuit in favour of a pair of Donnie's board shorts and a t-shirt. He feels a little exposed, but he's getting used to it.

He wonders if Sensei would have been sunning with him if he had made it. And Donatello would have loved the sun on his soft shell. Master Michelangelo would probably be building sandcastles or drawing images in the sand. He's not sure what Raphael would be doing, but he assumes that he'd be enjoy the safety and wonder and happiness with his brothers...

Casey sighs. He wishes Sensei could have at least enjoyed one day in the sun again... He hates that he can enjoy this while his whole family was left to die in the apocalypse. It isn't fair, it doesn't seem right.

Aaaaaaaand Casey just ruined the relaxation. Dang it. As mentioned before, he's not the best at this.

CJ sits up and sighs angrily. Why can't he just move on? Let go? It's what Leo wants. He can't talk about his life with anyone here, so he might as well just leave it behind and start fresh! Why can't... he...

Huh?

CJ notices two strangely disproportionate men sneaking around the hotel. They're pretty well hidden, but after a lifetime in a warzone where one wrong step could literally kill you, Casey Jones Jr. has become something of an expert at spotting hidden danger or people sneaking around.

He wonders what these two creeps are up to...

Three. Three creeps. There's a third guy following them... Wait, isn't that Agent Bishop?!

What is going on?? Are they looking for Mikey?

That has to be the reason. But who are those two guys? And why didn't Bishop come with them? Is he spying on them?

Well, he's not letting him do this alone! Casey may not be an expert on vacations, but he knows a secret mission when he sees one. He's coming along!

Casey grabs his grappling hook gloves and follows after them.

Bishop watches as the two men slither about, staying behind shrubbery and beach umbrellas that decorate the lot. They double check to make sure they don't draw any attention to themselves, then slink around the corner of the portal and vanish behind it's barrier. He tiptoes up to it and peers around the corner. Mr. Go is zooming across the beachside as Mr. Touch tries to use the fried tech again.

"What are you doing here?" a voice whispers behind him.

Bishop swings around and almost suckerpunches the kid behind him.

Fortunately, the teenager has good reflexes and ducks ahead of his punch, grabbing Bishop's arm and stopping him mid-punch.

"Kid?!" Bishop whisper-shouts. "What are -- where did -- Nevermind. Go away, before they see you --"

"But what are you doing here?" he whispers back. "My family's on vacation!"

"Is that really wise?" Bishop questions. "I did tell you what the EPF and TCRI were up to."

"Well, we're laying low. Like you said."

"At a resort?"

"Hey, it's not like the EPF knew about this place before!"

Bishop sighs.

"Look kid, I'd love to catch up and debate on whether a tropical getaway counts as 'laying low' and stuff, but I'm tailing these two bounty hunters --"

"Bounty hunters? Are they after Mikey?" the teenager asks.

"What do you think?" Bishop growls in response.

He turns back to watch the two men. Mr. Go skids to a halt after searching the area and pours sand out of his shoes as he complains to Mr. Touch about the conditions. Mr. Touch complains about the faulty tech they were given. They both end up arguing.

"Where is Mikey, anyways?" Bishop asks.

"Dunno," the teen replies. "He went out into the jungle to explore."

"You really think letting a kid go alone in the jungle is a good idea?"

The teen stares at him deadpan before raising an eyebrow.

"You have seen Mikey, right?"

"Fair enough," Bishop groans. "Look, I'm gonna go after them, you --"

"I'm coming with you!" he interrupts.

"Look kid --"

"My name is Casey."

"Look, Casey, I'm sure you're a cool kid with a good head on your shoulders, but this is a stealth mission. And this mission is already tough enough without having to worry about keeping you safe as well. It will go better if I'm alone --"

"Have you ever practiced guerilla warfare in a jungle before?" Casey challenges. "Or fought against superpowered individuals? Have you ever had to build a water purification device from scratch so you can drink your own bodily fluids while trekking across dangerous, monster-infested terrains??"

"Have you?" Bishop challenges back.

"You have no idea what I grew up in," Casey responds low. "Now let's go. Mikey should be deep in the jungle by this point, so we better hurry if we want some extra time to lay a few traps..."

Bishop tries to fight back, but the kid has already zip-lined into the brushes several meters away. Casey turns back and calls out to him.

"You coming or what?"

Bishop groans. He really shouldn't have yelled like that... Oh well. This'll be interesting.

Casey makes his way through the bushes and fauna, Bishop following close behind.

"Kid! Hey, kid, wait up!"

"Do you want me to slow down, or shouldn't you hurry up?" Casey shouts back.

Bishop grumbles under his breath as he runs up to the teenager.

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but --"

"And I appreciate what you're doing too, Commander Bishop -- uh, Agent Bishop. But this is my family we're talking about! And I'm not going to just sit back and act like I don't know what I'm doing when I do. I know you think I'm just a kid, but I've literally been training my entire life for situations like this. To be honest, this is a lot more mild than what I'm used to dealing with."

"...Where exactly did you say you grew up, again?" Bishop asks.

"Actually, not far from here," Casey chuckles. "But that's another story... So, looking at these tracks, Mikey made it to the center of the island somewhere around two hours ago."

Bishop's eyes widen behind his thick glasses.

"How can you tell?"

"Math, mostly," he says with a shrug. "You measure the size of his feet and the distance between each footprint and calculate the speed from there."

"But two hours ago?"

"I made an estimate based on when I saw him last and compounded with the fact that these plants he crushed underfoot show clear signs of recent decay --"

"Geez kid, you're like a walking science study!" Bishop sighs as he walks ahead and follows the trail as he reaches into his satchel.

"You can thank my Uncle 'Tello for that," Casey smiles. "What are you doing?"

"Honeycutt gave me this sonar tracker," Bishop explains. "I wanted to wait on using it until we were in a more secluded area."

Casey looks around at the jungle they're traipsing through.

"...I'd say this works!"

"I'd say so too," Bishop chuckles as he activates the device and scans the area around them. "Where did this jungle even come from, anyways?"

"It's a portal. It leads from the back lot of the hotel to a random undiscovered island."

"So, we're not actually in the United States anymore?" Bishop asks, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting. How does it work?"

"There's a device by the portal that can change the location if needed, for storms and stuff. But mostly it runs on magic energy, if I understand it right."

Bishop nods, pretending that it makes perfect sense. Magic, portals, underground monster hotels. Sure. Why not.

He taps a few buttons on the sonar, and several dots appear on the screen. Two in the center, two to the far left, and one straight ahead.

"Hey, would ya look at that! It really works!"

"So, those two are the bounty hunters," Casey says, peering over Bishop's arm to look at the device. "And up ahead is Mikey!"

"I guess your tracking skills really are on point," Bishop compliments. "Nice work, kid."

Casey smiles as he leads the way to Mikey.

"So, what do we do about those two guys searching for Mikey?"

"I have some other toys the Doc leant me," Bisop states, reaching into his pouch. "These should work well enough against them... though, they haven't been tested yet."

"Well, as my Sensei used to say, 'No time like the present!'"

"Aaaaaalright then, we'll find where they are and set up a few traps to drive them away."

The duo travel in the direction of the two mercenaries, following the sonar tracker. After half an hour of hiking, they finally find them. Mr. Touch is demolishing the trees as he looks around angrily for their mark. Mr. Go is watching from behind him.

"Are you done with your little tantrum yet?" he hisses.

"I'm doing all the work here, in case you haven't noticed!" Touch roars back. "It's a deserted island! He could be anywhere! And also in case you haven't noticed, all our tech is busted up!"

"Well, it shouldn't be as big of a problem as you're making it," Mr. Go groans. "After all, this is us we're talking about. It can't be that difficult!"

"Well, we've never worked in the fricken jungle before!"

"Pssh, as if that should stop us..."

The two men argue a bit about where to go and what to do. Bishop takes Casey back a step to discuss their own plans.

"So, kid... didn't you say something about guerilla warfare?"

Casey Jr. smiles deviously.

Bishop and Casey quickly set up a series of traps, digging large holes and cover them with debris and plants. Casey creates a snare trap and Bishop makes a tripwire. Soon enough, their plan is complete.

"Okay Casey," Bishop says as he takes his jacket off, the heat starting to get to him. "Here's the plan: your tracking skills are better than mine, so you find Mikey and get him out of here while I take care of the meathead and the beanpole."

"Wait, are you sure?" Casey asks.

"Not really. But I don't want you or Mikey to get hurt --"

CJ groans loudly.

"Dude, I already told you --"

Bishop quickly shushes him.

"I don't want you near the fight, you could get hurt."

"I know, I know; you think I'm just a kid and I can't defend myself, but I'm pretty sure I already proved how I can --"

"You did prove yourself," Bishop interrupts him. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't want you getting hurt or getting involved in this anymore than you already are."

The agent sighs. He takes his glasses off to show Casey how serious he is as he tries to explain.

"...Look..... Mikey was designed to be a living weapon for the EPF. He was given the DNA of several predators, violent species, and compliant genes from species that worked in groups or families so he would be sure to follow orders. He was trained day in and day out to kill, fight, and problem solve. Do you think that's the life he wanted?"

Casey freezes, eyes wide.

"Or do you think he deserves a chance to just be a kid?"

CJ looks away sadly. He can tell where this is going. Bishop takes a breath before he continues.

"Listen kid, I have no doubt that you could keep him safe all on your own, but both you and Mikey are just kids. That doesn't mean you can't do incredible things and save the world, but it means that you shouldn't have to. For now, that's my responsibility as the adult. I think you kids have been through more than enough, and it's time you get back to being kids. Or am I wrong?"

Casey sighs again.

"...Okay, point taken. Fine. I'll get Mikey to safety and warn the others... You take care of the two bounty hunters."

Bishop nods with a smile. He watches as Casey darts off into the forest to get Mikey. He turns back and treks towards the two villains.

Casey runs into the jungle, backtracking until he finds sight of Mikey's trail again. He follows, using his grappling hook like a rope swing, going from tree to tree to tree...

An old recollection of his Sensei calling him 'Tarzan' comes to mind. He smiles at the memory.

After ten to fifteen minutes, Casey finally catches up to Mikey, sitting in a tree as he munches on some wild mangoes he happened to find.

"Mikey! Mikey, hey!" CJ calls out.

Mikey looks down and smiles at him, mouth full to the brim of delicious ripe fruit. He waves.

"Hiiiiiii!" he calls out, though it's a barely intelligible, muffled slur of sounds.

"Hi," CJ calls back, climbing up quickly. "Hey, so not to alarm you or anything, but we gotta get outta here. Like now."

Mikey swallows loudly and tilts his head in curiosity.

"Why?"

"Just, um..."

Casey looks at Mikey.

He's not the warrior he would be in the future. He's not a stone-cold master of magic who occasionally liked to goof off when he wasn't being all mystical and mysterious. He's not the last brother left standing for Casey's Sensei, the last reminder of hope and love. He's not forced to stay positive and optimistic, even when the entire resistance has been laid to waste and he has to sacrifice his own life in order to save them. To save him.

He isn't 'Master Michelangelo'.

He's Mikey.

And Bishop is right. Mikey's just a kid.

A kid who shouldn't have to worry about looking over his shoulder constantly, wondering if someone is coming after him or if he's safe, or his family is safe. He's a kid who should be running across the water and having splash wars with his brothers, should be sunbathing on the beach with his father, should be sitting in a tree eating fruit and enjoying life like it was meant to be enjoyed.

"...Uuuuummm, y-your brothers wanted you to come back to the resort! They, uh... didn't know where you'd gotten to! They got kinda worried."

"Brothers worried for me?" Mikey asks with concern.

"Yeah! So, we gotta go let them know you're okay!"

"Oh, okay!" Mikey says with a nod. "Mikey understand. Let's go!"

Casey follows Mikey down the tree --just a tad bit slower than him, though.

"Race you back?" Mikey asks with a smile, already crouched and ready to run.

CJ smiles.

"You're on!"

The two run, Casey using his grappling hooks to his advantage as Mikey books it through the jungle. He hopes they don't attract the wrong kind of attention, but their speed should be helpful... He wonders if Bishop is finished with his job yet.

Bishop watches from behind a tree, waiting a few minutes to give Casey time to find Mikey. Just a little longer...

The two men start walking. Bishop checks the sonar and sees they're walking towards Mikey's direction. He has to act now.

He grabs a noisemaker and pulls the pin before throwing it at the two. It lands in front of Mr. Touch, who leans down and blinks at it.

"...What the hey?"

"What is it?" Mr. Go asks, stepping around him.

"Looks like a toy or --"

A loud, ear-piercing screeeeeeeeeeeeech sounds off, shattering the air around them and causing a soundwave to blast around them, knocking them all to the ground. Bishop grips his own ears and yells in pain, though the cries are lost in the deafening blast. He gets up and starts running, looking back to see Mr. Touch drop the device and clutch his bleeding ears. Mr. Go stumbles backwards before running away as fast as he can. Bishop watches as Mr. Touch slams his foot down onto the orb, crushing it instantly and silencing it. Bishop's ears are ringing as he runs. Mr. Touch shakes his head around before he sees Bishop running and gives chase.

"HEY, GET BACK HERE!!"

"WHAT??" Bishop yells back, ears still ringing.

Mr. Touch bellows as he runs after him, following the agent to his set traps. The meathead gets closer... closer..... he reaches out to grab his shirt collar...

Mr. Touch's feet drag over a tripwire, activating the net-launcher. The wiry snare wraps around him and causes him to faceplant. Bishop nearly pauses to cheer at the trap's success before Mr. Touch shreds the net to pieces, simply by flexing his arm muscles. Bishop keeps running.

He jumps over one of the traps he set and watches as Mr. Touch yipes and falls down into the freshly-dug ditch. Bishop carefully pulls out the 'jelly-gun' and aims.

"Sorry in advance, I really hope that this isn't permanent..."

Bishop is thrown off his feet when something slams into him. He groans as he picks himself back up.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Mr. Go asks snidely as he leans down.

"...My job, nothing personal," Bishop responds quickly, swinging his foot around to trip up Mr. Go.

But he's gone before Bishop can even get his foot up.

He does a quick spin before looking around in shock, trying to find where Mr. Go went --

Bishop is kicked in the gut as the speedster rams into his chest and dashes away unseen. Bishop gasps for air and clutches his stomach as he slowly gets to his knees. He's dropped the jelly-gun! He scrambles as he searches for it. He drags his fingers across the ground, looking for the futuristic weapon on the tall grass and weeds... he notices a vibrating sensation from the ground, slowly getting stronger.

Bishop jumps out of the way before Mr. Go can knock into him again.

He gets an idea.

Bishop places himself into position and waits. He can feel the ground vibrate under Mr. Go's stampeding feet. Wait for it... wait for it...

He can see a blur coming at him. Bishop gets ready...

Mr. Go runs at him. Bishop reaches into the satchel and pulls out the other jelly gun, blasting a great mess of red goop at the ground. Mr. Go runs through it with great speed, his shoes getting caught in the ooze. He trips through it, falling onto his hands as the jelly hardens quickly.

"Hey! What's going on here?! What is this gunk??"

Bishop heaves a sigh of relief. It's short lived.

"Oh, you think you're clever, huh?" Mr. Go laughs haughtily. "Well, we'll just see about that!"

Mr. Go's body vibrates so quickly that he almost becomes invisible. The quick-hardening goop starts to crack, and he's free. The speedster suddenly blurs past Bishop, unable to stop. He gets another interesting idea...

Bishop whistles at him.

"Hey, knockoff of the Flash! You missed me!" he taunts.

Mr. Go runs back at him, a blur as he comes back for round 2. Bishop pulls a special gun out and points it at the mercenary. Mr. Go immediately runs in a different direction, which Bishop expected. He aims again. Mr. Go runs in another direction. Bishop aims one more time, and of course, Mr. Go goes in a new direction. Bishop smiles. He's too close to change course, and he was worried about the wrong kind of redirection. He's right where Bishop wants him.

Just as Mr. Go is about to run into him, Bishop aims the gun above his head and fires. A long cable cord shoots out from the weapon and snags onto a branch high above him. Bishop is pulled away, and Mr. Go runs straight underneath him and over the hidden tripwire. Mr. Go sees the trap too late and is snagged, a rope wraps around his ankles and pulls him up into the air.

Mr. Go's flails upside down, sputtering and yelling protests. The jelly-gun drops from his jacket pocket. He stole it when he ran past him! Bishop jumps down from his place amongst the branches and grabs at the weapon, trying not to pull the trigger until he can actually hold it steady.

"Y-you meddling inferior!" Mr. Go screams. "You ridiculous turncoat! You--"

"Please, please, save all your compliments until the show is over," Bishop says with a laugh, holding his ribs. "You had a pretty good run, not gonna lie."

Bishop shudders.

"Ugh, that pun was terrible. Is this what I've become? A guy with pad jokes and witty one-liners? I thought I was better than that..."

"Hurry up and get me down from here!" Mr. Go snaps.

"What makes you think I'd actually let you down?" Bishop questions.

"He wasn't talking to you, punk," Mr. Touch growls from behind him.

Bishop manages to duck just before Mr. Touch can break his skull open with his fists.

He yipes as he rolls to the side, dodging another blow and careful to avoid the traps he's set up. Mr. Touch is not so careful. His feet crack against the tripwires and set off the snares and springtraps, though none of them have any effect on the giant muscle man.

"Now would probably be a good time for you to run, little man," Mr. Touch chuckles with a low voice.

"I might just take you your advice on that," Bishop heaves. "But first --"

He points the jelly-gun at the giant man, who raises a fist to pound Bishop flat. The gun fires, a green light beams on Mr. Touch's fist and forearm. They go numb and limp, falling flat and flabby against his side. Mr. Touch roars angrily.

"What did ya do to me?!" he screams, flinging his other fist at Bishop.

The agent dodges it, the ground beside him cracking and splitting from the brute force used. Mr. Touch roars again and swings his floppy arm at Bishop. Despite the lack of bones, the strength is still there and Bishop is flung several meters back before rolling across the ground and hitting a tree.

Bishop gasps for air as the wind is knocked out of him. He struggles to lift himself up, coughing and hacking as his back cracks with each movement.

He looks up in time to see Mr. Touch yank the rope holding Mr. Go, setting him free. Bishop has to act fast... Casey is counting on him. Honeycutt is relying on him. That whole society under New York is in danger if these mercs get out. Mikey deserves better.

Bishop grabs one of the noisemakers and pulls the pin. Mr. Go lunges forwards. Bishop throws the device at him. He realizes in time what it is and runs in the opposite direction. The noisemaker grenade goes off, and another shockwave of sound takes out everything above four feet. Bishop ducks for cover as he covers his ears. Mr. Go is blown away by the shockwave, soaring straight into Mr. Touch.

Bishop takes the jelly-gun and aims once again. He shoots at Mr. Go's legs. Mr. Go falls. He shoots again at Mr. Touch's other arm. It becomes wobbly and liquified. But Bishop can't stay here for much longer. He limps away, regaining a little speed with every excruciating step.

He's not sure exactly how long the jelly-gun effects will last. But he'd rather not find out.

After running several meters away, he can hear the device deactivate. Touch probably destroyed it.

Bishop pulls out the sonar device and checks it. It was damaged in the fight. The screen is cracked, and it glitches every few seconds, but from what he can tell Mikey and Casey made it back to the resort. Bishop just has to find his way out of the jungle...

He keeps running, though there's a pain in his side and his head is still buzzing. He hears something crashing behind him.

Mr. Touch and Mr. Go are following close behind.

Already?!

He looks back and sees Mr. Touch carrying Mr. Go over his shoulders. They aren't as fast as he is, but with his injuries he'll never outrun them...

But he has to try. Bishop pulls out the jelly-gun and fires, hoping to temporarily liquify more of the two mercenaries.

The gun squirts out a train of goop behind him. Wrong gun! But at least it serves its purpose; Mr. Touch trips and falls face-first into the slime, which hardens overtop of him. He shouts and screams, flapping his jelly arms around as he tries to get himself free.

Bishop keeps running.

Leo is laying out on the beach chair by the hotel. He loves the ingenuity of this place. If you get the right angle, you can have all the warmth and brightness of the sun shining on you without the actual sun getting in your eyes. At first, he was a bit hesitant to trust this place (after the events of that other resort he has sworn never to speak of again). But this place is a certified heaven!

Leonardo exhales with utter satisfaction. It's been a pretty rough couple of days... he needs this.

Unfortunately, Leo is pulled out of his relaxation mode when a weight is suddenly and mercilessly slammed onto him. He gasps, eyes nearly popping out of his head as Mikey jumps up into his lap at top speed.

"I win!" Mikey cheers.

Casey jogs up behind with and laughs, somewhat out of breath.

"You certainly did," he gasps, panting and sweating. "Phew! That was fast, Mikey..."

"What the -- *wheeze* -- what the heck is -- *wheeze* -- happening?!" Leo hacks, coughing loudly as Mikey sits proudly on his chest.

"Mikey won race!"

"Great. I'm so very proud of you. My ribs will never be the same again."

"Is Leo not worried anymore?" Mikey asks, leaning close to inspect his face and sniff him.

"Worried? Like, about my lungs collapsing, maybe?"

"Oh, sorry," Mikey chuckles nervously as he gently climbs off of him.

"It's fine, I'm getting used to it by now," Leo groans, his body re-inflating with air. "I mean, this is like the third or fourth time this has happened..."

"But Mikey is here! So no more worries," his little brother says with a smile.

"Uh, yeah," Leo answers with a nod. "No one is worried anymore. Whatever that means."

"Oh, uhhhhh Leo, you and I need to have a quick talk about.... something," Casey says.

Leo gets the hint immediately, despite the lack of mind meld.

"Hey Mikey, why don't you go find Donnie and help him build his sandcastles? He indubitably said something about probably needing your help and creative expertise. He said he was going to be getting supplies at the Hotel front desk..."

Mikey nods with a smile and a chirping laugh as he runs off to find Dee. Leon waits until he's out of sight before turning to CJ.

"Okay, so what's up?"

"So... no need to panic or freak out or anything, buuuuuuut there may or may not be a few bounty hunters searching for Mikey right now..."

"WHAT?!" Leo shouts, grabbing Casey by the shoulders and shaking him. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BOUNTY HUNTERS?!"

"I-I said no n-n-need to pa-a-a-nic!" Casey yells back, his voice wobbling as he's rocked back and forth. "Co-ou-uld you ple-e-e-ea-se st-o-o-p sha-a-k-i-i-ing me-e-e-e??"

"What bounty hunters are looking for Mikey? Where are they?" Leo demands.

"Oh don't worry, they're probably nowhere near here!"

"CLOSE THE PORTAL!"

Leo and CJ both look back at the beach's serene and peaceful shores to see Agent John Bishop, running out of the jungle as fast as he can. Soon enough, a man the size of a baby elephant carrying another man resembling an overcooked noodle with a ratstache barrel out of the bushes and run after him.

"CASEY, CLOSE THE PORTAL!" Bishop yells at the top of his lungs as he rushes for the hotel. "CLOSE THE PORTAL, NOW! CLOSE IT!"

Casey yells in fright and drags Leo to the box by the rainbow's edge.

"How do we close it?!" Casey demands, examining the device.

"How should I kow?!" Leo yells back.

"Uh, you deal in portals all the time?!"

"That's my ninpo, I don't actually know how they work! I don't understand magic or mystics or --"

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING?!" Bishop shouts. "HURRY!!"

"Do you know what to do or not?!" Casey shouts.

"NO! How would I know what to do?! Draxum would probably, but I have no idea where he is --"

"Well, try something! Anything! Maybe you can do something with your ninpo?"

"Fine! Get the device open!"

Casey jimmies the box's lid open and starts messing with the wires and other pieces inside before uncovering the mystic power source, an aurora flooding the air around him.

Leo runs to his beach chair and grabs his swords, throwing one at the machine and vanishing for a second before reappearing besides CJ. Leo stabs one of the katanas into the device and starts swinging it around in the rainbow light that spills.

Leon's markings start glowing, and the aurora turns blue.

"Don't change it yet, Bishop is still out there!" Casey pleads, running to watch the portal.

"ERRGH, MAKE UP YOUR MINDS!" Leo yells angrily, straining to keep the portal from glitching as the overwhelming power starts to spark across his arms. "Ow! Hurry up!"

Casey stops just outside of the portal and calls out to Bishop.

"Run!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?!"

"They're catching up!"

Bishop grabs the last noisemaker grenade, pulls the pin, and throws it back at the two mercenaries. It smacks right into Mr. Touch's face, getting lodged in his mouth before he screams and spits it out, jumping out of the way before a loud screeching shockwave sends them all flying.

Bishop goes tumbling through the portal before faceplanting onto the ground beside Casey. The shockwave knocks Leo down, the sword crashing against the device and closing the portal just as the two mercenaries try to reach out for it.

The beach scene swipes away, a new view of a new island taking it's place.

Bishop pants and heaves on the ground by CJ, looking over his shoulder shakily before his arms give out and he rolls onto his back.

"...That was the worst. I think my back is now in the shape of the letter 'S'. Thanks, kid..."

"Did... did we just banish two dudes to live alone on a lost tropical island in the middle of nowhere?" Casey whispers.

"Looks that way. But I'm sure they'll be fine..."

"So, you must be Agent Bishop, huh?" Leo asks skeptically, leaning over the young man.

"What's left of him," Bishop chuckles. "Ow, my body... and you're Leo, correct?"

"That is classified information," the slider growls, crossing his arms.

"Nice to meet you," Bishop groans as he slowly sits up and gets to his feet.

"Wish I could say the same."

Casey smacks Leo's arm.

"What??" Leo asks incredulously. "Look dude, I know you trust him, but I don't know him, and he works for the people that tortured Mikey. I'm sorry, but he hasn't exactly earned my trust just yet."

"I get it," Bishop responds, cracking his back in pain. "I really do. And for the record, I don't work for the EPF anymore. What they're doing is wrong, in every sense, and it needs to end. I'm working to make things right. And hopefully, this --" he gestures to the new portal "-- helps to prove it?"

Leo sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Maybe. We'll see."

"Fair enough, I guess. Casey," Bishop turns to the human teen and claps him on the shoulder. "Nice work. Don't be a stranger. You still have my number, as well as Honeycutt's. If you ever need anything, let me know."

Casey smiles proudly and nods.

"Well, I think that might be everything, so I should get going..."

"Here, let me help you with that!" Leo says with a snarky smile, his sword slashing the air and creating a portal beneath Agent Bishop, causing him to fall through.

He lands in a pile of trash bags on the city streets of NYC with a soft yelp followed by disorientation. The confusion quickly dissipates once he gets his bearings, and he cleans himself off before heading to the EPF building.

He makes his way into the compound somehow without drawing attention, and quietly goes back up to Honeycutt's office. He knocks this time rather than bust in like earlier this morning.

"Coming!" the professor calls out before answering the door. "Oh! John! You're back... are you alright?"

Bishop hands the jelly-gun and cracked sonar device to the old man.

"...Tech works great, doc..... But, uh... I broke the tracker. A-and the noisemakers, those are gone too."

Honeycutt looks Bishop over before giving an exasperated sigh.

"I don't care about the tracker or the tech. Get in here, you look like crap."

Bishop heaves a heavy sigh himself and relaxes. He tumbles onto the old man, who leads him into the lab to help take care of his injuries.

"Have you been to the hospital?" Honeycutt asks.

"No.... too risky."

"Your entire back is bruised."

"But nothing's broken, right?"

Honeycutt looks him over and nods.

"But I'm no doctor on the human condition," he reminds him. "I just know tech. John, you should really go to a hospital or ER or --"

"If I go to a doctor, then the EPF will hear about it. They'll ask questions. That's bad. So... just some painkillers and ointment for now will do, thanks."

Honeycutt rolls his eyes.

"...You need to be more careful, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But someone needs to do this job..."

Honeycutt grumbles angrily.

"Are you mad at me, doc?" Bishop asks, as the old man starts to bandage his ribs.

"No, no... I just... why can't you stay out of this whole business for a bit? Take a break?"

Bishop turns around and stares at him.

"...Are you worried? About me?"

"Well... yes. I'm a frail old man and a worrywart at heart, so of course I get anxious about secret missions and dangerous weapons and evil mercenaries! And, at the risk of sounding even more pathetic than I realize I already am, I don't exactly have... a lot of friends here..."

Bishop blinks.

"Oh."

"So yes, worry about you, John. I don't want to lose the only person I can trust in this place. I'm... I'm honestly scared. I'm a grown man and I'm scared. I should be considering retirement plans, but instead I wake up and wonder if this'll be the day I get drawn and quartered by my coworkers. Or worse, what will happen if you get drawn and quartered."

Bishop sighs.

"Okay. I'm sorry for worrying you. But this is important, and if I don't do it..."

"Then maybe someone else will," Honeycutt offers. "You aren't the only hero around, John!"

"No, maybe not. But I know who will have to step up for Mikey and his family, and it isn't fair to ask them to fight like that. They're just kids, Doc. And I need to make things right. For all of my mistakes."

Prof. Honeycutt sighs.

"...You're right. But... what if something happens to you?"

Bishop shrugs.

"I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Let's hope that never happens..." Honeycutt mutters to himself as he helps to treat the injuries.

Prev || Next