#jtdoesjuneofdoom

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #30

The Old Guard - #30 - Buried Alive

*

“I’m just saying, he should’ve been back by now,” Joe said, pacing by the door of the safehouse. “I’m going to look for him. I don’t like this.”

Andy caught his arm. “Joe-”

“Quynh is free and she’s angry, Andy!” he said. “What if she…what if she found him?”

“She wouldn’t hurt Nicky,” Andy said firmly.

“No, the old Quynh wouldn’t hurt Nicky. The Quynh who’s been suffering underwater for hundreds of years? We don’t know her. You heard Nile; she’s free and she’s furious.” Joe yanked the door open. “He shouldn’t have gone out on his own. I knew it was a bad idea.”

Nile ran into the room so fast that she tripped over the coffee table and Joe just barely managed to catch her before she fell. She was covered in cold sweat, her eyes wide and frantic, hair messy from sleep.

“She has him,” she said, gripping Joe’s arms. “Oh, god, she has him.”

The color drained from Joe’s face. “Where?”

“I don’t know. She tricked him.” Nile pulled away and put her face in her hands. “Pretended to run to him for help. He was comforting her when she killed him.”

“How did she know where he-” Joe froze. Andy subtly pushed Nile behind herself. “Fuck! Nile! You drove us to the safehouse! You led her right to him!”

“Stop,” Andy snapped. “Nile is new to this. You and I should’ve been the ones to know better, Joe. Focus. We can use Nile to track Quynh, just like Quynh used her to track us.” 

Andy fought down the feelings rising rapidly inside of her. Quynh, her Quynh, back after all these years. 

But what was she going to do with Nicky? Surely she’d never hurt Nicky. The two had been close friends. Quynh had always admired Nicky’s kindness and bravery. Nicky didn’t laugh often, but Quynh got him to laugh almost as much as Joe sometimes. 

She must be using Nicky to lure Andy in. Andy was the one she was angry at, surely. It was ultimately Andy who had failed her, not Nicky or Joe. 

“She’ll trade him for me,” Andy said, because she couldn’t have Joe losing his composure now. “That has to be her plan. What else would she want with Nicky? She’s probably been waiting for one of us to be alone, and Nicky just happened to be the first one.”

“Where did she take him? What did you see?” Joe demanded, ignoring Andy.

But Nile just shook her head. “She had him in the back of a van. She wasn’t driving and there were no windows. She…she had a gun pointed at him. He was dead and bound.” She looked at Andy with that mix of desperation and fierce resolve that made her such a good addition to the team. “We have to find him, Andy. That rage she feels isn’t just directed at you. She blames all of you, even Nicky.” 

“Nile, call Copley. We’ll go see what we can find. And I am calling Booker. He can’t be on his own out there right now, not if she’s going after us,” Andy said, kicking the door all the way open and grabbing the car keys. 

Joe and Nile hurried to follow her out. She didn’t need to ask to know they were armed. 

She was heartbroken over Quynh’s fate. But it was no fault of Nicky’s, and Andy would do anything to get him back safely and take the consequences herself. 

***

Booker met up with them the next day, drunk enough that they smelled the booze on him before he even entered the safehouse. Joe had roughly taken him to sober up, yelling at Booker about how they all needed to be ready for anything and on guard. Booker did not drink again.

Copley tried to track down Quynh. When he showed no signs of success, Booker joined in the search. They debated moving safehouses, but decided to stay in case Quynh sent a ransom or anything of the sort for Nicky. They set up a strict watch rotation and ensured everyone was armed at all times. 

It was three days before the letter arrived.

Andy unfolded it. Joe reached for it, but Andy held it away as her eyes scanned over the words and her heart shriveled in her chest at them.

“Andy!” Joe said, pleading. “What does it say?”

She swallowed down bile and read it aloud, her voice monotonous despite the horror threatening to choke her. “You will not find Nicolo. I thought of the perfect way to hurt all three of you at once. You and Yusuf will suffer, knowing you can never save him. He will suffer as I did. I can think of no more perfect revenge than this. He will cry out for Yusuf with every dying breath, and Yusuf will sob for him with every passing minute, and you will live with the knowledge that you were responsible to protect them both. As you read this, Nicolo is dying yet another death, buried alive deep beneath the earth, waiting for help that will not come just as I did. Every time you think of his agony, know you caused it by abandoning me.”

Joe sat down heavily. Nile put a hand over her mouth. Booker pushed a shaking hand through his hair.

“No,” Joe whispered. “She wouldn’t. Not Nicolo. Not him.”

“Get up,” Nile whispered. “Joe, get up. He needs us. I don’t give a fuck what she says. We’re going to find him. We’re going to save Nicky. Get up!” 

Andy felt numb inside. Nicky, her kind, caring Nicky, was buried alive somewhere right now, waiting for them to find him and save him. Trusting them to save him. Just like Quynh.

She felt like she was spiraling. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

“Andy!” Nile shook her and ripped the letter from her hands, crumpling it up and tossing it off to the side. “Andy, he needs us. We cannot fall to pieces right now.”

“She could have buried him anywhere,” Booker said, shaking his head helplessly. “Where do we even start?”

“Nicolo,” Joe whispered, and began muttering to himself, clasping his hands together and pressing his face to them. 

Nile placed a firm, comforting hand on his back. “Andy, think. You knew her best. Where would she take him?”

Andy honestly had no idea. She thought and thought, but they had traveled so many places that she couldn’t pinpoint one. The world had changed too much in the centuries that Quynh had been trapped in the ocean; she had no idea what Quynh would do or where she would go. 

Nile waited only another moment before nodding to herself. “Then we focus on surveillance videos. We try to find the van they took Nicky in. It’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

“Andy,” Joe said, picking his head up. Tears were already dragging tracks down his cheeks. “We can’t fail him. He’s alone. He must be so scared.” 

And who wouldn’t be, buried alive by your own friend, knowing you would never truly die? Forced to suffocate in the cold, lonely dark again and again for eternity. 

So they got to work, even if the weight of the letter threatened to drag them all down into despair. They searched and searched, abandoning sleep whenever possible to keep going. Nile and Booker took over care for Joe, who would not eat or sleep or stop for a moment unless forced to. Andy was barely keeping herself together, but she managed to cling to her fractured pieces for the sake of her team.

Nine days after getting the letter, they found him.

It was Booker who got the idea when he saw Nile on her phone with Copley. Nicky had been carrying a cell phone with him when he left the safehouse that day.

The phone was no doubt long dead, but Booker managed to track it using something which Andy did not understand but which gave them a general location.

It was just outside a nearly abandoned town, with miles and miles of ground that no longer bore crops. Condemned land left to the wildlife to roam.

They forced themselves to be methodical, mapping the area and breaking it into a grid pattern, each of them assigned grids to dig up. They checked for signs of recently turned over ground, but found none as snow had recently fallen over the area. So they dug and dug, for two days. 

And on that second day, nine days after the letter, Andy cried out with relief as her shovel struck a tarp.

She cried for the others, who rushed over and helped her dig it up. Wrapped in the tarp was the lifeless body of Nicky.

“Nicolo!” Joe cried, holding his love to him and sobbing into his motionless chest. He rocked with Nicky as Booker, Nile, and Andy dropped to their knees around them. 

He held Nicky until Nicky took a frightened gasp of breath, hands already coming up to try and claw away a tarp that was no longer there.

“Nicolo,” Joe said, cupping the back of his head. “It’s alright. It’s alright now. We’ve got you.”

“Are you real?” Nicky croaked out.

Joe made a pained noise. “Yes, my heart. I’m real. We all are. I’ve got you, Nicolo.”

Andy pulled her jacket off and draped it over Nicky’s shoulders carefully. She reached out and stroked his filthy hair.

“Nicky,” she said quietly. “Oh, Nicky. I’m so sorry.”

Andy could think of no words to describe the trauma Nicky had been through. Buried alive, wrapped in a tarp, dying over and over again for nine days.

The trauma made itself apparent as Nicky began to cry silently, pressing his face forcefully into Joe’s neck and grabbing onto Joe until his knuckles turned white. His whole body shook, shoulders heaving with silent sobs. 

“Nicolo, Nicolo,” Joe whispered, crying again himself, stroking Nicky’s hair, holding him as tightly as he could. 

Andy finally felt her own tears come as she touched Nicky’s back and felt him flinch beneath her hand. They had saved his body, but Quynh had gotten her revenge by damaging his mind.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #11

Devil May Cry - #11 - Firearm

*

“Watch your back,” Nero said, stabbing a demon that had been trying to sneak up on Vergil.

Vergil grit his teeth. “If I’m watching my back, I’m not watching the ones attacking in front. Or from the sides. Or even from above.”

“Yea, yea, we’re surrounded,” Nero said, swinging his sword in a rough arc to smack away a few more of the small yet fierce demons attacking them. 

They’d been hired to deal with the infestation, but it was much worse than they’d imagined. Vergil didn’t want to admit that he was growing tired, but he knew it was starting to show in his reduced speed and his weaker swings. He’d been working a job all day yesterday with Dante. Dante was sleeping off an injury, so Nero had offered to come along for this job. 

Vergil had no time to rest before coming out here. He swiped sweat from his forehead before deftly dodging an attack and stabbing three demons in quick succession.

He felt like no matter how many he killed, more just kept coming. It was like a never ending horde of the damn things. 

It didn’t seem to bother Nero, who was rested and ready to fight. He leapt about, slashing and shooting at demons, seeming to enjoy himself. At times, Vergil was fairly certain the boy was just trying to show off, but he was too focused on keeping himself going to bother lecturing Nero about it. 

Vergil raised the Yamato to deflect a demon leaping at him. But, as Nero had warned, he was not watching his back.

A sharp pain ran down his arm before it went numb and he dropped the Yamato in surprise. One of the demons had viciously slashed Vergil’s arm, blood pouring down from the dangerously deep gash tearing down it. 

Nero was there in a flash, sword piercing the demon and flinging its corpse off Vergil. “Vergil?”

“I’m fine.” He reached for his sword, realized he still couldn’t feel his hand, and lifted it in his nondominant hand. 

“Yea, fine,” Nero said, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t keep up like this, Vergil.”

“I’ll be fine,” Vergil said firmly. “I’ve fought in worse condition.”

Nero had no more time to argue with Vergil as another onslaught came at them and they were separated trying to keep themselves alive. Vergil felt frustration gnawing at him as he struggled to keep up with the demons now. He was slower than usual and down his dominant arm. He couldn’t keep this up much longer before mistakes slipped in.

“Vergil!”

Vergil spun just in time to see the weapon thrown his way. He sheathed Yamato and caught the weapon in a quick motion.

A gun. He shot Nero a look.

“Easier than a sword,” Nero said, his own gun out as he fired on the demons. “Quicker, too. But it’s one I was carrying for Nico, so don’t damage it or you’ve gotta pay for it.”

Nero’s gun did seem to be making quicker work of the demons than their swords had. Perhaps this one time, he’d allow the use of such a weapon.

“Nero,” he said.

Nero didn’t have to be told; he ran to Vergil’s side as if this was their hundredth time doing this, not their first. They pressed back to back, aiming their guns as the demons changed course and charged at them.

Vergil rolled his shoulders in preparation, finger tightening on the trigger. “Jackpot.”

They began to fire, maneuvering together with an ease that was surprising given their limited experience in combat together. Vergil found he could easily predict Nero’s movements and adapt to them to cover Nero’s weak points.

As the final demon fell dead, Vergil lowered the gun. The feeling was starting to come back into his arm, making it tingle. He passed the gun back to Nero.

“Hey, what was up with that? Jackpot, I mean. Sounded like some kinda corny catchphrase,” Nero said.

Vergil had to turn so Nero would not see the color rising in his cheeks. He’d forgotten Nero didn’t know about that. It had just felt so natural to be back to back with Nero, that it had slipped out.

“Nothing,” he said. “We should go.”

Nero shrugged it off. “Yea, sure. Let me tend to that wound, first. You're getting blood everywhere.” 

Vergil had no desire for Nero to take care of his wound, but Nero insisted. Vergil was too tired to fight about it, and eventually sat down, offering his injured arm to Nero.

Nero wrapped it carefully, a grin coming to his face as he did so. “I recall you being judging towards guns. Not such a bad option after all, huh?”

“Shut up,” Vergil said. “Or I’ll consider their use in silencing you.”

Nero snickered. “Sure, Vergil. Might as well hold on to this for now; might be more demons crawling about.”

Vergil glared but took the gun because, yes, it was helpful. In this one situation, at least.

Nero stood and offered his hand to Vergil. After a moment, Vergil took it.

He opened his mouth, something in him suddenly wanting to tell Nero all about the meaning behind jackpot. Wanting to train more with the boy because they worked surprisingly well together.

But then he closed it slowly. There was no need to tell Nero about any of that; actions spoke louder than words.

And so when they came across the next horde, Vergil moved right to Nero’s side, their guns drawn without having to speak to each other.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #21

The Old Guard - #21 - Memory Loss

*

When Nicky was kidnapped by one of Merrick’s competitors, it did not take them long to contact Booker and Copley for help. Between all of them searching, they managed to find him in just under two days, infiltrating the complex he was kept in and killing every single person who stood in between them and their brother.

When they found Nicky trapped down in a lab, they covered the door while Joe hurried to free him. Nicky seemed disoriented and weak, needing Joe and Booker to help him along as they made their escape.

Joe should’ve known something was wrong. But he’d been too relieved to have Nicky back alive.

It was only when they reached the safehouse that he realized that Nicky had not spoken a word. He lowered Nicky onto the couch, eyeing him carefully.

“Nicolo? Are you okay?” Joe asked.

“You’re hurt,” Nicky finally said, eyes shooting to the blood spot on Joe’s shirt, where he’d been shot in the escape.

“What? Nicky, that already healed,” Joe said, putting his hand over it.

Nicky looked away, glancing at each of them before clasping his hands together in his lap and focusing on them. “I cannot thank you enough for saving me. But…why did you?”

“What?” Joe couldn’t help but repeat himself. “Nicky, of course we came for you.”

“Nicky, what’s going on?” Andy asked.

Nicky clasped his hands together even tighter. “Do we…know each other?”

Joe felt as though he’d been struck. He stared at Nicky, mouth dropping open. The others were also stunned into silence.

Nicky peeked up. “I’ve offended you. I’m sorry.”

Joe forced his mouth to close. “Nicolo.” He meant to say more, but he couldn’t. The words dried up in his mouth.

Andy, as usual, took charge. She stepped forward and crouched before Nicky so they were nearly eye-level. “You don’t remember any of us?” 

He shook his head. “No. Should I? Have we met before?”

Andy laughed. There was no humor in it. “You could say that. Andy? Booker? Nile? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“Are those your names?” He furrowed his brow. “But there are four of you.”

Andy slowly pointed at Joe. “That’s Joe. Yusuf. You don’t remember him?”

Nicky shook his head again. “No.” He gave a polite, detached look at Joe that shattered Joe’s heart to pieces. “But you were very kind when you saved me. Thank you for that.” 

“Fuck,” Booker whispered. “Fuck, no, Nicky, no. You have to remember Joe. You have to.”

“I apologize,” Nicky said. Joe could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was uncomfortable. “I don’t know any of you.”

Booker lunged forward, grabbing Nicky’s arms and shaking him roughly. “No, you bastard! You don’t get to do that to us!”

Joe and Andy pried Booker off, shoving him at Nile who held him securely. Joe moved protectively in front of Nicky.

“Touch him again,” Joe said flatly, “and it’ll be longer than one hundred years, Booker.”

“Stop!” Nicky cried, leaping up and putting a hand out helplessly. “Please, I did not mean to cause any trouble.”

“You didn’t,” Andy assured him. “Just sit down and rest, Nicky. You have to trust us right now. You do know us. I don’t know why you can’t remember, but we’ll keep you safe until we figure out how to get your memory back. It’s not safe for you to wander off on your own right now.”

Nicky considered for a moment, shoulders still tensed. At last, he nodded.

“Yes, clearly someone is after me,” he said, but didn’t sit back down. “May I step out for air, though? This is a lot.”

“Of course,” Andy said. “Why not let Joe go with you, just to be safe?”

Nicky nodded, but didn’t look at Joe. Joe followed Nicky outside, numbly pointing out the path he and Nicky often walked together in the mornings. 

They walked it in awkward silence. Finally, Nicky broke the silence.

“You all keep calling me Nicky,” he said. “I don’t remember going by Nicky. Just Nicolo.”

“We’ve called you Nicky for as long as I can remember,” Joe said. 

Nicky tipped his head up towards the sky, a troubled expression on his face. “I can’t explain how, but I know I’ve hurt you. And it makes me sad. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. Joe, was it?” 

“Don’t apologize,” Joe whispered. He had to stop walking, mortified as he felt tears come to his eyes. “It’s not your fault. They took you, and they did something to you. But we’ll fix it. I swear we’ll fix it. You’ll get your memories back, Nicolo.”

Nicky put a hesitant hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Thank you. I have a strange request, but…” He laughed softly. “Again, I can’t explain it, but I know you’ll understand.”

“Anything,” Joe said.

“English isn’t my favorite language. You all spoke English, so I did. But I prefer-”

“Italian,” Joe said, and immediately switched to the language. “You can speak it. Nile is the only one who might not know it.”

Nicky looked relieved. “I see. I’ll use English around her, then.”

“Considerate as always,” Joe said, wiping his eyes. “Nicky, you really can’t remember me?”

He looked troubled again. “No. Honestly, my memories are all a jumbled mess. But I must’ve known you well to read you like I do. It’s like muscle memory. And the other man back there - Booker, was it? - I could even read him, though not as well as you. He wasn’t angry with me, was he? He was sad. Frightened.”

“Yes,” Joe said. “He blames himself. And it is partly his fault this even happened. But we needed his help to find you, so he’s here.”

“I’ve caused you all trouble,” he said, shoulders tensing again.

Out of habit, Joe reached out and put his hand on the back of Nicky’s neck, drawing him closer. “Stop. You haven’t caused any trouble. This is not your fault. It’ll…heal. Whatever it is, it’ll heal. Or we’ll heal it. But it was done to you, so please stop blaming yourself.”

Nicky had gone rigid under the touch. Joe’s stomach churned as he hastily yanked his hand away.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

Nicky slowly reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I…see now.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, eyes shut tight and a pained look of concentration on his face. “To be so intimate with me, we must’ve…I-I don’t remember though…but…I remember arms around me every night…could…”

He suddenly staggered. Joe hurried to catch him.

“I need to lie down,” he said in pain. “My…agh…my head.”

“Take it easy,” Joe said, rubbing his back and helping him back towards the house. “You can rest. We’ll take care of you.”

It wasn’t gone, then. Buried, maybe. But Nicky still had his memories, even if they were locked away.

That had to be it. Joe’s heart couldn’t take being a stranger to the love of his life for the rest of eternity.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #8

Devil May Cry - #8 - Infection

*

“Hey,” Dante said softly as they entered the hospital room.

Kyrie forced a smile despite the heavy bags under her eyes and her pale face. Dante put a hand on her shoulder briefly before stepping aside to make room for Vergil.

She had called them yesterday to inform them that Nero had been hospitalized. He’d been feeling poorly but insisted on continuing to work. Apparently, though, he’d collapsed at home early yesterday and been unresponsive. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Vergil asked.

Nero was currently lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to various machinery. A sheen of sweat coated his skin and his breathing was harsh. Fever left his cheeks red, the only color in his otherwise ashen face.

“Infection,” Kyrie said, reaching out to take Nero’s hand in her own gently. “They’re treating it the best they can, but they said it’s like nothing they’ve ever seen before.”

Dante and Vergil shared a glance that they hoped was subtle. The hope was dashed when Kyrie’s shoulders slumped.

“It’s from a demon, isn’t it?” she said. “He got hurt on the job.”

“We’ve worked so many jobs trying to clean up Red Grave,” Dante said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “So many damn injuries. Could’ve been any of them. I honestly don’t know, Kyrie. I’m sorry. But he’s a tough kid; too stubborn to die. He’ll beat this and then bitch about it. You’ll see.”

She squeezed Nero’s hand. “I know. He’s strong. I just hate seeing him like this. So…vulnerable.”

“We’ll stick around until he’s recovered,” Dante assured. “Why don’t you go grab some food and sleep?”

“I should-”

“You should eat and rest,” Dante said. “He’ll kick our asses if we don’t make you. Think of us if you won’t think of yourself, huh?”

She gave a weak smile. “I suppose he would. Alright, I’ll get something to eat and take a nap. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Sleep all you want,” Dante said, claiming the other chair in the room and leaning back in it casually. “I could use a break from hunting demons.”

Kyrie replaced Nero’s hand on the bed and tucked the covers around him securely. She brushed his hair away from his forehead, eyes shining with concern as she took in the sight of him. She bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. It was such a tender gesture that Vergil looked away, embarrassed at having witnessed it.

“Thank you. Both of you,” she said. When Vergil refused to look at her after a moment, she gave up and left the room, shutting the door behind her as she went.

“What could’ve wrecked the kid like this? This is bad, Vergil,” Dante said, sitting up in the chair and looking over Nero. 

Vergil approached Nero and drew back the blanket covering him. The boy wore a hospital gown, clinging to him from the sweat. Despite the fever, his body shook with cold as soon as the blanket was gone. 

Vergil examined him, noticing a cluster of bandages on Nero’s leg. He swallowed at the sight of it and slowly replaced the blanket.

“Fuck, my leg!” Nero had hissed a few days ago after a demon had dug its claws into his leg. “Dammit, that fucking hurts.”

“Stop whining. Maybe Dante was right to call you deadweight,” Vergil had snapped at him, tired after a long day of hunting and fighting.

Nero had glared but had not complained about his leg again, even doing a good job at hiding his formerly pronounced limp. 

“Vergil? What is it?” Dante asked.

Vergil could almost imagine Nero smiling and telling Kyrie he was fine when he got home from the job. He could picture Nero bandaging his leg and gritting his teeth through the pain as it worsened, desperately hiding his injury from everyone around him.

All because Vergil had told him to stop whining about it. Because Vergil had implied that to show pain would make Nero a deadweight.

And now he was suffering a severe infection, unconscious in the hospital.

Vergil tried to remember what the demon had looked like. He could only vaguely remember, but he did recall the area it had been lurking in. If there were more…if Vergil could only find the creature to determine what in its claws had caused such a horrific infection in Nero…

He strode for the door. Dante leapt up and caught his arm, but Vergil angrily shook him off.

“I’ll be back,” Vergil said. 

“Where-”

Vergil slammed the door on Dante’s words and moved swiftly down the hallway. He was walking so fast that he nearly ran right into Kyrie, who was just stepping away from a vending machine.

“Vergil?” she asked, looking worried. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Vergil said firmly, because he had caused this and he was going to fix it.

The boy - his boy - was not going to die in this hospital. Not to his pride. Not because of Vergil.

Vergil would not rest until he’d found that demon and figured out how to cure Nero’s infection.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #3

Devil May Cry - #3 - Kidnapped

*

“Vergil!”

Dante’s anxious voice had Vergil snapping out of sleep into a sitting position, already reaching for the Yamato. Dante caught his wrist.

“Vergil, get dressed and let’s go,” he said.

“What happened?” Vergil demanded.

This wasn’t like Dante. Dante rarely seemed to take anything seriously; sarcasm was his coping mechanism. But right now, he looked ready to claw out of his skin, eyes darting about.

“The kid. They took him,” he said.

“Nero?” Vergil didn’t like the unpleasant squeeze in his chest. The boy could handle himself.

But Dante shook his head. “No, Nero’s kid. Julio. Nero called. He said the kids were playing outside at a neighbor’s while Kyrie was helping the neighbor care for her sick dad when someone kidnapped Julio out of the yard.”

“What are we supposed to do? If it didn’t involve a demon-”

“Dammit, Vergil,” Dante snapped. “You weren’t on the phone with him. Nero isn’t handling it well. He needs our help, so demon or not, we are helping him. Have a little compassion; Julio is your grandson.”

“He’s not actually Nero’s child,” Vergil argued.

Dante shoved his brother against a wall. “Say anything like that to Nero, and he won’t be the only one murdering you for it.”

Vergil pushed him off and got ready. They made their way to Fortuna in tense silence. When they reached Nero’s home, Dante led the way inside.

Nero and Kyrie looked awful. Nero had his arms around Kyrie, holding her close.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he was saying. “We’ll find him, Kyrie. I promise we’ll find him. You stay here with the kids, and I’ll bring Julio home. Have ice cream ready for him. You know how much he loves it with whipped cream.”

That nearly brought a smile out of Kyrie, whose eyes were red from crying. She sniffled and squeezed Nero’s hands before stepping back to attend to the other two children.

Nero turned away from her and walked past Dante and Vergil without a word. They followed him back outside.

“Nico and some of the townsfolk are covering the streets. We’ll check the forest,” he said.

“Slow down,” Dante said, grabbing Nero’s shoulder.

Nero smacked his hand off, turning to glare at Dante. “I will not slow down until I have Julio back safely. Those children are my responsibility, and someone took him. Someone took my kid. Don’t fucking tell me to slow down.”

“You need to calm down. Rashness causes mistakes,” Vergil said, cool under the force of Nero’s fury. “You promised you’d find him. So get your senses back and do it.”

Nero turned his head away and took a deep breath. “Yea. Yea, alright, let’s go. And…thanks for helping.”

Vergil could not get over Nero’s desperate anger. The boy was not even his biological child, and yet Nero’s love for him was so obvious. Vergil thought of the way his chest had squeezed at the thought it was Nero who had been taken. 

“Quit wasting time on useless sentiment and let’s go find your son,” Vergil said, shoving past Nero and heading for the forest.

Vergil supposed he wasn’t a very good father. But Nero clearly was, and the least Vergil could do to make up for everything in the past was help protect his son’s children.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #19

Devil May Cry - #19 - Guilt

*

Nero ran at Dante, sword at the ready. He swung, and Dante brought up his own blade to counter the blow. They pressed harder, trying to break the other’s guard. 

Nero suddenly spun away, ducking under Dante’s sword as he pulled his gun and fired. Dante leapt over the bullets, flipping over Nero and landing, drawing his sword to the back of Nero’s neck, touching the edge of his blade to the exposed skin there.

Nero huffed out in frustration. “Fuck.”

“That’s another loss for you, kid,” Dante said, straightening up and putting his sword away.

“Best three out of five,” Nero said, because the kid was too stubborn to ever just accept a loss.

“Sure, but only after a break.” Dante stretched, various joints popping. “I need a drink and some lunch.”

“Yea, alright,” Nero said, putting his own sword away. “But then I’m kicking your ass.”

Dante snorted. “Yea right. Next it’ll be best seventy out of one hundred.”

“Ah, shut up,” Nero said, shouldering him roughly. Dante just grinned at him until Nero couldn’t help but grin back.

“Here,” Kyrie said, handing water bottles to both of them. 

“Thanks,” Nero said, stretching and heading for a tree that provided plenty of shade from the hot sun above them.

Kyrie smiled at Dante. “Thank you for visiting. He loves training with you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Dante said, uncapping his water and taking a generous drink from it.

Kyrie shook her head. “No, he really does. You’re like a father to him, Dante. He never had that in his life. He appreciates it more than you could ever imagine. I’m grateful for how well you treat him. Thank you.”

With that, she turned and went to join Nero under the tree. Nero smiled at her, putting his arm around her. He did seem happier than usual today.

Dante leaned against a nearby tree. He eyed Nero, taking in the boy’s smile and his clear joy.

He did have a father. He just didn’t know it.

But what was the point of telling him the truth? Knowing Vergil was his father would just hurt him. He’d wonder if Vergil had ever known about him and if so, why he had never come for Nero. He’d struggle to comprehend the vile things his father had done. He’d have to a mourn a father he had never known.

He’d known Dante had killed Vergil.

Dante tried to push that battle out of his mind immediately. That hadn’t been Vergil, not really. Just a shell of Vergil under the control of Mundus. 

Dante found he could no longer keep his eyes on Nero. Hadn’t they all deserved better? Hadn’t Eva deserved to live? Hadn’t her sons deserved to enjoy their childhood, not have it cut short by death and horror? Hadn’t Nero deserved to have his parents in his life?

But none of them got what they deserved.

He could tell Nero. Sit him down and explain all of it. Maybe it would hurt the boy, but maybe he’d grow to accept it all and even understand.

No. Guilty as it made him feel, Dante buried the truth in his own heart. Nero was better off not knowing.

“Hey, come on,” Nero called, snapping Dante out of his thoughts. “Kyrie brought lunch.”

Dante forced a happy grin as he joined the two of them. Nero had a genuine smile as he handed Dante a sandwich, a certain admiration in his expression.

Because Dante was the closest thing he’d ever had to a father. And he’d always longed for a family.

He had one. He just didn’t know it.

The guilt was hard to battle, but Dante took the sandwich and gave the kid a playful punch on the shoulder. He talked easily with Nero and Kyrie as they ate, all the while hiding the very truth of the boy’s life from him. 

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #24

Devil May Cry - #24 - Bleeding Out

*

“Heya, kid!” Dante called as he entered the garage.

He froze, taking in the wreck of the place. Blood splattered along the floor in an alarming amount. There was no sign of Nero.

“Nero?” he said, stepping forward cautiously, hand going to one of his guns just in case.

He heard a groan from under a pile of wreckage. He rushed forward, shoving things aside to reveal a bloodied Nero. His arm was violently torn, blood pouring from the stump.

“Nero!” Dante said in alarm, yanking his coat off and pressing it desperately to the stump of Nero’s arm. “Nero, hang on. You’re gonna be just fine, kid. Making a mess you’ll have to clean up later, but you’ll be fine.”

Nero gripped Dante’s shoulder weakly with his remaining hand. “H-Help. H-Hurts.”

“Yea, I figured,” Dante said, his heart slamming. “But it’s fine. You heal pretty fast.”

Nero threw his head back and groaned again, whimpering as he squirmed in pain. Dante brushed his hair back, putting more pressure on the wound as blood stained his coat. There was too much of it. He didn’t know how to stop it.

He didn’t know what to do.

And then Nero fell still beneath him.

He stared for a long moment, waiting for the rise and fall of Nero’s chest. It did not come.

“Nero?” He shook the boy. Nero’s body only rolled lifelessly, his skin deathly pale. The only color was the blood soaking into his clothing.

“You failed him.”

Dante spun around. Vergil stood there, as deathly pale as Nero.

“You let my son die, just like you let me die,” he said.

Dante turned back to Nero, gripping his shoulders and shaking him roughly. “Nero? Nero, wake up. Wake up! Please wake up!”

Nero did not wake up.

But Dante did.

He jerked upright on the couch, sucking in a startled breath. The room was dark and cold, the fan spinning lazily overhead. Rain tapped against the windows, casting dripping shadows on the floor thanks to a single street light outside.

Dante scrubbed away the cold sweat claiming his forehead. His heart was thudding against his chest.

“It’s fine. Kid’s fine,” he muttered, raking his hands through his hair. “Kyrie said they got him stabilized. Snap out of it; just a nightmare.”

Kyrie had called him earlier, distraught as she explained the attack on Nero. He was hospitalized, out cold but stabilized for the time being. He would wake up to the reality of having lost his arm in the attack. 

But he had nearly died. If help hadn’t come fast enough, he would’ve bled out. Kyrie was honestly surprised, and greatly relieved, that he hadn’t.

Someone had almost murdered Nero. Dante nearly lost him.

The last family Dante had, nearly dying while he just minded his business in his own home. Had Dante put a target on his back by encouraging him into the Devil May Cry business? 

Dante got up, unable to sit still any longer. He paced to the window, pushing up the blinds and looking out on the rainy, miserable night. 

Nero was barely more than a kid. A good kid, too, despite the hardships life had thrown at him. He was strong and compassionate. Brash but caring. He had such a good heart in such a bad world. The last thing he deserved was more pain. 

Dante clenched his fists, frustrated that there was nothing he could do to help Nero. No one saw the attack; Nero had kept them out of the garage to protect them. Typical Nero.

But it meant that no one knew who or what attacked Nero. Kyrie had only heard the crashing and Nero’s agonized scream. Nico was the last one to see him before the attack, and she said she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary before she went inside. 

They were fairly certain his arm had been torn off, not cut off. It wasn’t a clean severance, they said. Some monster had torn his arm from his body while he was still conscious, then left him there to die in agony. 

Rage slithered through Dante at the very thought. Nero had just been working on his car and preparing to eat dinner with his loved ones when someone came in, viciously attacked him, and left him for dead without a care in the damn world.

Whatever heartless monster had attacked Nero, human or demon, Dante hoped he found them so he could make them pay. And if something happened and Nero’s condition deteriorated, if the worst outcome became a painful reality and Dante lost his nephew, there was not a force in the human or demon world that could protect the attacker from Dante’s wrath.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #10

The Old Guard - #10 - Shackle

*

They were caught reviving on surveillance cameras during a job on Wednesday.

Copley had tracked it back to Merrick’s competitor and deleted all traces of the video on Thursday.

Nicky went missing after a routine trip to the store for supplies on Friday.

Joe began blaming Andy on Saturday.

“Twice!” he yelled, raking his hands through his hair and kicking over the chair he’d been sitting in. “Twice, Andy! And both times, he was taken!”

“Joe, we’ll find him,” Nile assured.

Andy said nothing; she only stared into the fireplace with her hands pressed together in her lap. Joe stormed over to stand between her and the fireplace, demanding her cool gaze.

“Don’t just sit there,” he practically snarled. “Not when Nicky is missing.”

“Copley is-”

“Copley and Booker are the reason he was taken before! Like hell do I trust him to find Nicky now!”

Andy stood up so fast that Joe braced for an attack when he saw her hand coming up. Instead, it came to rest on his shoulder, startlingly gentle.

“Joe,” she said, her voice firm and her eyes hard. “I will not stop until he’s found. But we canvassed the entire area three times and we lost his trail once they left the city. We need Copley to analyze the surveillance videos to pick the trail back up. I can call Booker to help.”

“No,” Joe said, turning his head away. “No, I can’t look at him right now. This wouldn’t have happened if Booker had never…never…” He cursed aggressively in Arabic.

Andy squeezed his shoulder before dropping her hand away and heading for the door. “Come on. We’ll discreetly ask around the surrounding cities. You’re right; it’s better than sitting around.”

Joe looked infinitely relieved to have something productive to do, even though they all knew it was likely futile. Still, he, Andy, and Nile left their safehouse and got into a car together, all needing to focus on something instead of their growing fear for Nicky.

Copley found Nicky on Monday.

Andy had barely hung up the phone before they were arming themselves to storm into the complex Copley had finally dug up. They knew they couldn’t just throw caution to the wind, not when the captors would likely be expecting them to come for Nicky, but they still made quick work of getting to the complex and scoping it out.

Lightly guarded outside, but heavily guarded inside. They made quick work of the outside guards before storming inside, slashing and shooting their way through the guards there.

Joe watched attentively despite the rage driving him forward. When he spotted one guard who seemed to be issuing orders to the others, he pounced at the opportunity and shot the man in the knee. He grabbed him by the throat, throwing him up against the wall and pressing his scimitar to the man’s throat, murder blazing in his eyes.

“Where,” he said, his voice frighteningly calm, “is he?”

“Please,” the guard whispered, eyes wide in terror.

“You are a fool if you believed you could hurt him and live,” Joe said, pressing the scimitar closer. “Tell me where he is and I’ll make it quick. It is the only mercy I will grant.”

Tears crawling down his cheeks, the man lifted a shaky arm and pointed down a short hallway. A heavy door stood at the end of it, a keypad next to it.

Joe didn’t have to say anything. The man gave up the code, lying dead seconds after as Joe slit his throat with a swift movement of his arm.

“Andy! Nile!” he called. “Cover us!”

He ran down the hall and punched the code in. The door hissed open, revealing a heavy, clear door that looked in on a room so heavily filled with a yellowish-brown gas that he could hardly make out a slumped over form against the far wall.

“Nicolo!” Joe cried, pressing against the door. He pushed off, looking around frantically and spotting the control panel for the room. He wasn’t Booker, but after a few minutes, he managed to shut off the gas, vent the room, and open the protective door.

The moment it was open, Joe was running for the slumped figure. His heart sank at the sight of Nicky.

Nicky’s skin was horrifically red and blistered. Blood was pooled around him, dried in thick patches beneath his nostrils and down his chin to his shirt. Dried vomit lay around the room along with more patches of blood, indicating that this had been ongoing for a while.

“Nicky,” Joe whispered, dropping to his knees and hovering his hands over Nicky’s ruined flesh. “Nicolo. Nicolo, please. Wake up. Wake up!”

He was dead. How many times had he died, alone and in pain in this room, waiting for his family to come rescue him? Over and over again, an agonizing, lonely death, just like Quynh. 

“Joe?”

Andy stepped cautiously into the room, her face contorting to fury at the sight of Nicky. She clenched the gun in her hand tightly, taking deep breaths to keep her temper in check. 

“Get him to the safehouse,” she said stiffly. “Nile and I will make sure there’s no one left to come after him again.”

Joe began to carefully lift Nicky’s lifeless body into his arms when he heard the rattling. He froze, then let his eyes slowly travel to the shackles around Nicky’s ankles. He hadn’t noticed them before because of the angle Nicky had collapsed at. But there they were, glaring, tearing into Nicky’s already-wrecked flesh.

“Andy,” Joe choked out.

Andy drew her ax and slashed through the shackles. Joe held Nicky to his chest, carrying him swiftly from that awful room. Nile looked horrified at the sight of Nicky, but Joe ignored her questions, desperately needing to get Nicky somewhere safe.

But even once he had Nicky arranged on the couch of their safehouse, he couldn’t help his restless pacing as he triple checked all the locks and security systems. He’d insisted on going to the store with Nicky, but Nicky had refused because he knew Joe was tired after training that day. 

Nicky had simply smiled, pressed a kiss to Joe’s temple, told him to get some rest, and disappeared out the door. When he did not return, Joe’s worst nightmares came true.

At least when Merrick got them, they were together. But for Nicky to be taken alone like that…

Joe couldn’t stop thinking of Quynh. Who knew how long they would’ve kept Nicky locked up, dying to the gas in that room?

Joe finally sat, pulling a chair right up to the couch and gripping Nicky’s hand in his. He shook his leg anxiously as he watched carefully for any sign of revival.

When it finally came, it was just a pained, weak breath. But it sent a wave of relief through Joe, so strong that it forced out a sob Joe hadn’t even been aware he’d been fighting back.

“Joe?” Nicky’s voice was as wrecked as his flesh. He squeezed Joe’s hand, wincing at the pain. “Joe.”

“Nicolo.” Joe pressed both hands over Nicky’s, bending his head until his forehead touched them. “Nicolo, my heart, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Nicky croaked. His other hand reached out blindly until it found Joe’s hair, brushing through his curls. “Eyesight hasn’t repaired yet.” He had a small smile on his face. “I knew you’d come.”

Joe gently kissed both of Nicky’s swollen, closed eyes. “Always, my love. Always. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

Nicky rubbed his thumb softly against Joe’s hand. “You came. It’s all that matters. I can’t see, Joe. Come here.”

Joe obediently shifted from his chair to the couch, wrapping Nicky securely in his arms. Joe looked down at Nicky’s injured ankles, shuddering at the memory of the shackles holding him there like a condemned prisoner.

Nicky began to run his hand through Joe’s hair again. Eyesight or not, he knew Joe’s body like his own, and so he easily tilted his head and kissed the spot between Joe’s eyes, where he knew there’d be a wrinkle of concern. 

“I’m okay, Yusuf,” he assured, despite his blistered skin, his shredded ankles, his blind eyes, his scratchy voice, and the nosebleed that was starting. “There’s a lot that needs to heal. That’s why it’s taking a little longer. But I am healing.”

Joe grabbed a tissue and held it under Nicky’s nose, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m staying right here. When you get your sight back, you’ll see me, not that fucking room.”

That small smile was back. “Then I am a lucky man.”

Kidnapped and tortured horrifically, and he still thought he was lucky just because he would see Joe’s face again. Joe held him tighter. The world did not deserve this man.

“You’re safe now, Nicolo,” he whispered, tucking Nicky’s head beneath his chin and rubbing his back soothingly. He knew Nicky too well to think this had not scarred him. His wounds would heal, but his mind was another story.

“Of course I am,” Nicky whispered back, pressing into Joe, allowing Joe this weakness of his. “I knew I would be, once I was back with you.”

He healed slowly but surely. Still, Joe did not relax until the skin on Nicky’s ankles was smooth again.

The horrible image of those shackles would not fade. But with Nicky safe and healed in his arms once more, he vowed to make sure such a thing would never happen to his love again.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #7

Greedfall - #7 - Bite

*

“Well?” Kurt asked.

De Sardet stood up from the abandoned merchant cart, shaking his head. “It doesn’t look good. There’s dried blood on the ground. Quite a lot of it. There’s a trail leading into the trees. I fear he did not survive this attack.”

They’d been asked to look into a missing merchant. De Sardet never did like bringing back bad news.

“Should we bring the cart back?” Vasco asked. “There are still goods on it.”

“Yes, I think that’s all we’ll be able to do in this case. I’d like to follow the blood trail, though,” De Sardet said. “I just want to be certain. If he’s alive but injured, we can try to get him help.” 

Vasco mentally sighed even as he nodded in agreement. Poor De Sardet didn’t like to give up on anyone, but the blood made it clear that they would be finding a body today. 

Kurt started for the trees on the side of the path. There was a thick cluster of them, stretching out to border the path in the area. He had his hand on his sword, ready for anything. Whatever had attacked the merchant was still out there.

De Sardet lifted his hands, ring glinting in the sunlight as he readied himself to use his magic. Vasco drew a pistol, staying back to provide cover.

They had not yet reached the trees when the creatures burst forth from them.

Four Ulgs charged at them, one throwing Kurt off balance. He hit the ground hard but rolled with the fall, springing back to his feet and slashing at the Ulg before it could strike him again. De Sardet managed to narrowly dodge the stampede, but stumbled enough that he wasn’t able to get off a counter-attack in the process.

Vasco fired two shots at the closet Ulg, halting its charge. The largest of them threw its head back and let out a ferocious roar that seemed to whip the others into a maddened fury. De Sardet had to dive to the ground to avoid a clawed slash at his chest. 

Kurt was trying to get to De Sardet, but the Ulg between him and his friend prevented that. Kurt hissed as its claw snagged his upper arm. He drew back, readying his sword for a blow.

Vasco moved forward with determined purpose, firing off shots to try and drive the Ulgs away from De Sardet. A lucky shot managed to fell one of them, but the Alpha Ulg only roared again , stomping its feet dangerously close to De Sardet’s head. 

It charged at Vasco suddenly, fury driving it. De Sardet let out a cry of panic, firing off his magic at the Ulg. It didn’t slow the beast, and the creature plowed into Vasco, sending him flying to the ground.

The pistol spun out of his hand and he laid on the ground, dazed and breathless. He tried to roll onto his side to get himself upright, but then blinding agony tore up his leg.

He screamed, trying to jerk his leg back only to realize it was caught in the Ulg’s mighty jaws. He grabbed his blade, stabbing at the beast’s face in a desperate attempt to free himself, screaming louder as the Ulg tightened its hold on his leg.

And then, miraculously, the pain stopped. The Ulg fell dead to the ground, a vengeful De Sardet planted firmly on its neck with a blade buried in its skull.

De Sardet leapt off the Ulg and ran for Vasco. Blearily, Vasco could see that Kurt had killed another Ulg and was working on taking out the last.

De Sardet cupped Vasco’s head in his hands. “Look at me. Vasco, look at me.”

It was difficult to focus on his face. The agony was still pulsing in his leg. He whimpered.

“Alright,” De Sardet said softly. “Alright, this will hurt. I’m sorry, love. I have to stop the bleeding. Hold on to me.”

Vasco did just that, and likely bruised De Sardet with how hard he squeezed as De Sardet tended to his leg. He buried his face in De Sardet’s shoulder as a sob tore from his throat.

“I know,” De Sardet soothed. “I’m almost done. You’re doing wonderfully, Vasco. It’s almost over.”

“How bad is it?” Vasco managed to croak out.

De Sardet stiffened under his tight grasp. “Don’t move. I’ve almost got it stable.”

Oh, no. 

Vasco dragged his gaze to his leg, letting out a choked noise at the mangled limb that was attached to his body. It was soaked in blood, the bite having torn its way right to the bone. Vasco felt dizzy as he looked at his own bone.

De Sardet caught Vasco’s shoulder, jerking him back so he couldn’t see the remains of his leg anymore. “Don’t look. It’ll be alright. We’ll get you medical attention. We can bring you back on the cart. You’re going to be fine.”

It’d be a damn miracle if he didn’t lose his leg with an injury like that. Regardless, it’d never work properly again. Not with that kind of damage.

Vasco wasn’t aware he was sobbing again until De Sardet pulled him against his chest and stroked his hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to Vasco’s hair.

“We’ll get you help,” he whispered. “Don’t despair, Vasco. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

But still the pain continued, and still Vasco sobbed.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #13

The Old Guard - #13 - Broken Promise

*

The plan had gone off as they expected. The shootout at the end wasn’t quite what they’d hoped for, but they knew it was in the realm of possibility, and so they’d prepared for it.

Sure enough, when it erupted, they were ready. Nile was supposed to guard Andy, but she’d gotten separated and so Nicky easily slid in next to Andy to cover her instead. They took their opponents down with swift, practiced teamwork.

Joe had glanced back at Nicky to make sure he was still standing before moving forward to ensure all the bodies scattered about were actually dead. No need for surprises this close to the end. 

He was relieved to find that they were all down, and he’d found the burner phone on one of the bodies. It had the information they’d been looking for, and the phone luckily hadn’t been damaged in the exchange of gunfire.

He was just starting to scroll through the phone when his entire world shattered.

“Nicky!”

Andy’s cry of his name was full of an agony that sent ice shooting through Joe’s veins. He pocketed the phone and rushed back to where he’d left the two of them.

Nicky had collapsed to his knees, heaving for breath. Andy was next to him, hand firmly on his back and pain in her eyes.

Nicky was coughing up blood.

Joe’s mind could not comprehend it. He dropped to his knees besides Nicky, reaching out and grasping his arm.

“Nicky,” he said weakly. “Nicolo. Where were you shot?”

Nicky leaned heavily against Joe and gestured weakly to his gut. Joe lifted his shirt and his face paled.

“It…It should be healing,” he said numbly.

“Fuck!” Andy snapped, slamming her fist into the ground. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! No!”

Nile put a hand over her mouth. “What- But-”

“No.” The world fell from Joe’s lips limply. He tightened his hold on Nicky’s arm. “When…?”

“Healed…earlier,” Nicky wheezed. He looked at Joe, and his eyes were heartbreakingly afraid. 

Joe enfolded Nicky into his arms, stroking his hair. “No, it’s just taking longer. That’s all. It was a bad wound so it’s taking longer. Maybe the bullet is stuck in there.”

Nicky grasped his shoulders with shaking hands. “Joe.” His voice was small. “Oh, Yusuf.”

“No,” Joe repeated, tightening his hold on Nicky, as if he could hide him from death itself. “No, Nicky. You promised. We go together. You promised!”

Nicky pulled back, his eyes shining with gathering tears. Despite it, despite the pain and fear, he gave a small, affectionate smile. He placed a hand on Joe’s cheek, thumb stroking in soothing circles. 

“Yusuf,” he whispered. His voice was choked with blood, but he did not let it stop him. “A millennia of loving you will never be enough. But I am grateful for every second of it.” 

“Don’t!” Joe cried, as if Nicky had struck him. “Don’t talk like that! Nicolo, you promised me!”

He should be comforting Nicky. He could not imagine Nicky’s terror. But all he could focus on was the idea of Nicky leaving him, by choice or by force.

He could not remember life before Nicky. He did not want to know life without Nicky ever again.

Andy and Nile were at Nicky’s side now, checking him over. He reached out a shaking hand to grasp Andy’s with. He pressed his head to her shoulder and she ran a gentle, soothing hand through his bloodied hair.

“Nicky,” she whispered, kissing his head. “It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.”

“Take care of him,” Nicky said, nuzzling his head into her neck, taking comfort from her just one more time. 

He shifted and Nile moved to meet him, putting her arm around his trembling shoulders. She had not known him long, but he felt like a beloved older brother already. She knew their little family would shatter without his calm guidance and warm heart.

“Take care of both of them,” Nicky said. He put his arm around Nile, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. “Nile, you will do so much good in this world. You were chosen for a reason. I am so grateful to have known you.”

He shifted back to Joe as Nile and Andy pressed together. He rested his head on Joe’s chest, closing his eyes as he listened to Joe’s heart beating hard.

“Nicky,” Joe said, his voice breaking.

“I never meant to break my promise, my love,” Nicky said, lifting his head to look into Joe’s eyes. “Please, I would never harm you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Joe said, tears already making their way down his cheeks as he held Nicky close again. “Oh, my heart. Nicolo, Nicolo.”

“Yusuf,” Nicky said, and he was growing weak in Joe’s arms. 

“I’ve got you,” Joe said, kissing Nicky’s head and pressing his cheek to Nicky’s hair. 

When Nicky went limp in his arms, Joe held him tighter. As the minutes ticked by and Nicky did not revive, Andy lifted her ax and stomped forward to find a fight. Nile backed away to give Joe his space, but did not take her eyes off him, knowing Nicky would never want Joe alone in this moment.

Joe was unaware of anything except the body going cold in his arms. He pressed his face to Nicky’s shoulder and wept over their broken promise and his broken heart.

*

I am once again whumping the fuck outta the boys. Also, I didn’t have a chance to proofread this and wrote it super quick so, uh, sorry for the inevitable typos! 

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #9

The Bad Batch - #9 - Defiance

*

Omega clung to the edge of the roof, regretting her decisions.

Hunter had firmly told her to remain on the ship. But how could she possibly do that when they were heading into danger, especially now that they were down Tech? Sure, Echo was here to help out on this mission, but without Tech…

She had nodded obediently when Hunter gave her the order to stay. And then immediately slipped off the ship the moment he and the others were far enough away not to notice.

She gripped the edge as hard as she could, trying and failing to pull herself up onto the slick roof. The rain earlier had made the roof harder to traverse than she’d expected, and the pirates shooting at them certainly didn’t help.

“Hang on, Omega!” Hunter called, trying to make his way over while remaining behind cover. They were outgunned. 

Omega had managed to take down a few before a too-close shot startled her and caused her to lose her footing, but it wasn’t enough. Wrecker, seeming to realize that Hunter would never make it in time at this rate, let out a battle cry and charged out from behind his cover, lifting a stolen ship part the pirates had left lying around and hurling it at a group of them.

It was enough of a distraction to buy Hunter the time he needed to make it to the roof. He pulled himself up and began to carefully but swiftly make his way towards Omega.

“Hunter! I can’t hold on much longer!” she said, her arms trembling with exhaustion and her fingers starting to slip. It was too hard to hold her weight up on the slippery edge. 

“I’m almost there,” Hunter assured. 

He slipped a little, but easily regained his balance. He lowered himself to the edge of the roof and gripped Omega’s arm, hauling her up to his side.

He’d nearly gotten her the whole way up when a shot struck his armor, knocking him back with a pained gasp. Omega nearly slipped off again, but used her momentum to push herself up. She landed messily next to Hunter, hurrying to get to her hands and knees.

“Hunter!” she cried in fear.

He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against his chest and rolling so that his body shielded her from the rest of the shots coming their way. Another cry from Wrecker, and the shots ceased.

Hunter used the momentary reprieve to grab Omega and roughly pull her up the roof and over to the other side, away from the pirates. 

“Wait. Here.” His voice was furious.

She shrank back, but did not move this time as he got down from the roof. She listened anxiously to the blaster fire until it finally stopped.

Hunter came back up to the roof, leveling her with a look. She could hear Wrecker and Echo digging through the pirates’ stolen goods out of sight.

“I told you to stay on the ship!” he said.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

He rubbed his shoulder. “Mildly. I’ll be alright. What were you thinking, Omega? You could’ve been killed!”

“I could’ve gotten you killed,” she whispered, vision blurring with tears. “Oh, Hunter.”

She threw herself at him and he caught her. Her arms went around his waist, her face pressing to his chest. She let out a small sob as his arms actually went around her, too.

“I just wanted to help. Without Tech…and I can’t lose any of you too…” She shut her mouth and just cried into Hunter’s chest, wishing she could hear his heartbeat through his armor, just as a reassurance that he was alive and well.

“Omega,” he said, his voice much gentler. “We’re professionals. But there’s always a risk. If I make a call, it’s because I think it’s the best one. You need to stay on the ship if I tell you to, okay? We can handle ourselves.”

“So could Tech,” she choked out.

“I know,” he said, kneeling down and pulling her even closer. She shifted her arms around his neck and held on to him. ”I know, kid. The only promise I can make is that we’ll always do everything we can to make it back to you. But if I have to worry about your safety like that, I can’t focus in a battle. You’ve gotten a lot better, but you still lack experience. I’m making the best calls I can about when it’s the right time to get you that. Please listen to me in the future.”

“I will,” she said, pressing her cheek to his. “I can’t lose you, Hunter. None of you.”

He could do nothing to reassure her, because he could not promise they would not end up like Tech. All he could do was hold her close and hope fear for their well being tempered her defiance instead of fueled it. 

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #27

Midnighter & Apollo - #27 - Display

*

Apollo traced his finger along the map spread out on the table. Dick paced behind him and Robin sat at the table, also studying the map.

“What if he’s not even in the country anymore? He could be anywhere,” Apollo said at last. 

“He was just outside Opal City when he went missing,” Dick said, stopping his pacing to view the map. “But with no witnesses, we have no way to know what happened. Your friends haven’t noticed anything yet?”

“I’ve got Stormwatch keeping an eye out for him, but nothing so far,” Apollo said, shaking his head. “Jack Hawksmoor was on a mission, but when he returns, he’s coming straight here to help the search. There may have been no witnesses, but the city will tell Jack anything it knows.”

Still, it had been three days since Midnighter mysteriously disappeared while out on a simple mission. There had been no sign of him since then. 

Apollo had called Dick and Stormwatch for help, worried since anyone who could take out Midnighter was a dangerous foe indeed. Dick had called his family and Jon Kent for help keeping an eye out. Damian had joined him on his trip to Opal City to help Apollo personally.

“We’ll find him,” Dick said, glancing at the torn expression on Apollo’s face as he desperately searched the map again. “Hell, he’ll probably find us first.”

Apollo’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile at that. “You’re probably right. Still, he’s never gone missing for this long before. And there were signs of a struggle where he went missing. Someone took him, Nightwing. I’m sure of it. And that worries me, because who’s strong enough to do that?”

Not many people, Dick knew. Beating a man who could predict your every move was no simple task.

A cell phone rang and they all immediately checked their pockets. Damian held up his phone, waving it a little.

“Jon,” he said before answering and putting it on speaker. “Did you find something? Grayson and I are with Apollo.”

Jon was silent for a beat. “Just…Just turn on the TV to the news.”

Apollo grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, quickly flipping through the channels. He stopped when he got to the news, and his heart plunged.

Midnighter stood there, wearing a new costume. His hands were behind his back, his posture straight, his eyes staring right ahead. Everything about his was menacing.

But his eyes. God, his eyes.

They were clouded over, unseeing. There was a slim device snaking up his neck, a wire connecting to the back of his head. 

And next to him stood Henry Bendix.

“-wanted to display the newest guardian of Gamorra. With the slander and attacks against our government and our citizens, I felt it was necessary to bring in a new hero to keep us safe.” He put a hand on Midnighter’s shoulder. “Meet the Guardian. He will ensure Gamorra remains a safe place.”

Apollo sank to his knees. “No. No.”

“What…I don’t understand…” Dick said, shaking his head slowly.

“Bendix made Midnighter,” Apollo choked out. “He…He’s controlling him. God, he has the power to completely control Midnighter. To erase his memories all over again. To take everything from him, even his free will. Oh, M.”

His eyes were watering. Even if he flew to Gamorra this second, it might be too late to save Midnighter. Bendix needed a weapon that could go up against even Superman, and he’d found it. There was no way he’d take chances now. He would erase every shred of free will Midnighter had to make sure he retained complete control over him this time.

Dick put a hand over his mouth. Damian squeezed his shoulder.

“I am sorry, Grayson,” he said quietly. “Tell me what the next step is. I’ll do anything you need to get your friend back.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible now,” Jon said, his voice pained. “But we need to try. I’ll be with you guys in a few minutes. We’ll come up with a plan. There has to be something we can do.”

He hung up the phone. Apollo could not tear his eyes away from the screen. From the stranger who had been the love of his life.

He should’ve protected Midnighter. He’d failed the man he loved, and now there may be nothing of Midnighter left.

“M, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

No amount of torture to Bendix would make this right. But that wouldn’t stop Apollo from dealing it out to that monster for stealing away Midnighter’s life and putting him on display as some mindless weapon.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #23

Star Wars - #23 - Poison

*

“General!” Cody called.

He was holding his men back from the building, unsure what the substance floating in the air was. But General Kenobi was in there, and he was getting anxious to make sure the general was okay.

He was relieved when he saw the flash of a lightsaber in one of the windows. The window shattered a moment later and Obi-Wan leapt out. He stumbled a bit as he landed, but caught his balance and jogged over to Cody and the other clones. 

“Is everyone alright?” he asked.

Cody nodded. “Fine, sir. The spy?”

“Fled,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve still got men stationed at the ships?”

“Yes, sir!” Cody said, straightening a little. “No one is leaving this planet. I’ve got men in the air as a precaution, as well.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan said, beginning to walk away. Cody obediently followed. “We should be able to…” He pressed a hand to his head. He took a deep breath. “Apologies. Should be able to cut him off. I’ve already contacted Anakin and Ahsoka to keep an eye out, as he may be fleeing in their direction.” 

“And the others?” Cody asked.

“Taken care of. Keep the others away from that building, though. The Separatists have some new smoke bomb that makes it difficult to breathe,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Noted, sir,” Cody said. “Our buckets should be able to filter it out, but I’ll warn the boys to be on the safe side until we can be certain.”

“We need to search the area. It’s possible the spy is hiding around here and hoping we move on,” Obi-Wan said. He was breathing heavily, despite them having not gone very far. Sweat was starting to roll down his temples, and Cody wondered if the fight had really been that intense. Obi-Wan wasn’t usually so tired out by a run-in with Seps.

“I’ll tell the boys to fan out and conduct a thorough search,” Cody said. He hazarded, “Perhaps you should catch your breath while they do, General. You’ve done most of the work so far; only fair you get to take a moment while we do our jobs.”

Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively. “No time for that. Not if the spy-” He paused to let out a hacking cough into his elbow, sucking in a breath after. “Not if the spy could get away.”

“Sir,” Cody said, on alert now. This wasn’t normal. 

Obi-Wan took another step, staggering. He clutched his stomach, dropping to his knees. Cody dropped down beside him, catching his shoulder as he retched onto the ground. His sweating was growing worse, his body trembling. He struggled to gasp in a breath after being sick.

“Stay away from the substance in that building!” Cody ordered his men over their private channel. “Contain the area immediately. The Seps are using poison.”

He switched the channel, connecting to a feed with General Skywalker. “General, we need a ship for a medevac immediately.”

Obi-Wan was really struggling to breathe now, clutching at his throat with one hand. His lips were turning blue.

“Who was hurt?” Anakin asked. “If it can wait, we need the ships for the blockade-” 

“General Kenobi has been poisoned,” Cody said, just barely managing to stop himself from snapping and remaining professional. “Unknown substance used by the Seps. He’s struggling to breathe. He needs help fast.”

“On my way,” Anakin said, his tone changing to one of anger and worry. “Stay with him, Cody. That’s an order.”

“Understood.” As if he’d planned on leaving.

He kept an arm around Obi-Wan, letting the general lean heavily against himself. Obi-Wan’s breath was a weak, choked sound huffing in and out now. 

“Take it easy, General,” Cody said. “Help is coming. You’re going to be fine.”

“The…spy…” he wheezed.

“Don’t worry about the spy right now!” Cody said. “Just focus on breathing until help gets here. The men will handle the spy, and I’ll handle you since you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself. You knew, didn’t you?”

“Suspected,” he wheezed, before letting out another hacking cough and struggling to get a breath in after. “Thought I was…o-o-kay.” 

It seemed all he could manage, nearly collapsing as he tried and largely failed to get air in after. Cody could do nothing but hold him and watch helplessly as he slowly suffocated. Cody could only hope help got here before it was too late, but as each second passed and the wheezing got worse, his hope grew dreadfully slimmer.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #20

Star Wars Jedi: Survivor - #20 - Cage

*

Cal knew that Jedi were not supposed to act in anger. 

But anger roared through every vein in his body as he ran along the base he’d infiltrated. He’d been sneaking at first, but hearing a couple of Stormtroopers talk had simply sent him over the edge.

“I say we scrap it for parts,” one had said.

The other had laughed. “Better off using it for target practice.”

Their joint laughter had ignited the carefully controlled fury boiling inside Cal’s heart. He’d lurched out of hiding, cutting both Stormtrooper’s down with ruthless efficiency and drawing attention to himself.

Now, he spun his lightsaber skillfully to deflect blaster bolts as he ran along. In an attempt to get his temper back in check, he cut down only those who stood directly in his path or who shot at him from higher up. He did not think any of them deserved to live, but he knew how dangerous it was to cut them down out of fury alone. It took so little to slip down a dark path.

He cut down two more and ran into a small shelter they’d come out of. He looked around frantically, then Force jumped up to the ceiling, pulling himself through a decent-sized crack in the corner of the ceiling. He climbed up to the roof and hid himself amongst the gathering of crates there.

“He went in there!”

Below, the Stormtroopers and their droids hurried into the shelter. He could hear the confused yelling and the orders to spread out and find him.

He pressed his back to a crate, tipping his head up and taking slow, calming breaths. If he lost his temper like this, he’d never accomplish his mission. He could not let his anger and fear control him; he had to trust in the Force, and in himself. He would accomplish this mission, no matter what. He just had to keep his wits about him and remember his training. 

Once the commotion had died down a little, he snuck from his hiding spot and carefully made his way along the rooftops. He snuck up behind droids and swiftly cut them down as he needed to, peeking into each shelter and structure he ran across.

Panic gnawed at him as he came close to looping around the base. If he’d been wrong…if they’d already moved on…

But then he came to the next structure and relief flooded through him so fast that he nearly lost his grip and fell. He climbed down quietly, stepping up to the droids guarding the entrance. He ignited his lightsaber and cut them both down before they even knew he was there.

Then he turned to the cage.

BD-1 was cowering in the corner of it, trying to make himself small. He noticed Cal and began to chirp in relief, springing up and rushing over to the bars of the cage. He anxiously poked his foot through, grasping at Cal.

Cal reached through the narrow bars and placed his hand on BD-1’s head. “Hey, buddy. It’s alright now. I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re okay.” 

BD-1 hunkered down again, trembling and chirping as he tapped at the bars of the cage. They were strong, too strong for him to break through himself.

“Stand back, buddy,” Cal said.

BD-1 scurried back. Cal cut through the bars, then dropped to his knees and held his arms open. BD-1 launched into them, nuzzling against Cal.

“I’m sorry they got you, buddy,” Cal said, holding the droid tightly. He would’ve never forgiven himself if they’d done anything to BD-1. He shuddered at the thought of them disassembling him or wiping his memory. 

BD-1 bopped his head against Cal’s chin affectionately before claiming his usual place on Cal’s back. He pressed his head to Cal’s, chirping.

Cal rubbed his head again. “Let’s get out of here, buddy. I’m so glad to have you back.”

Still, as he looked back at the cage they’d locked his best friend in, he couldn’t help but feel that anger still lurking. If anything had happened to BD-1 because Cal had failed to protect him…

He turned and leapt for the ceiling before those dark thoughts could consume him.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #5

Star Wars Jedi: Survivor - #5 - Handcuffed

*

Merrin leapt from the speeder, landing neatly beside a frantic BD-1. He beeped at her, bouncing up and down and managing to look more urgent than any organic being she had ever met.

“Easy, droid,” she soothed, because she needed him calm despite her own swell of panic. “Where did they take him?”

BD-1 projected a map and indicated a region. Merrin gave a stiff nod and lifted him, climbing into the speeder with him.

It was sheer luck that Cal and Bode had been in communication when Cal was ambushed and captured. Merrin had not waited for Bode when she heard the news; she got in the nearest speeder and took off. 

Cal was one of the Empire’s most wanted individuals. There was no time to make a plan. She had to get to him before the imperial troops got him off world. With a dust storm winding down, she had a little time, but not much. As soon as the storm fully cleared, they’d take off with Cal, and there was no guarantee of where they’d take him.

And of course that brave, loyal fool had saved his droid instead of himself. Merrin supposed BD-1 would come in handy, but she’d have preferred rescuing the droid instead of Cal. 

She pushed the speeder as fast as it would go as she tore across the desert. BD-1 kept the map up for her reference and she easily dodged the many environmental hazards and beasts of Jedha. She had no time for delays. 

As she finally reached the area, it didn’t take much searching before the ship came into view. It was grounded, as she’d expected, and guarded by three Stormtroopers. Dust was still whipping about the area, too much for a safe takeoff, but it was only a matter of time before it settled and the ship could safely leave.

Merrin disembarked the speeder, BD-1 hopping onto her shoulder and beeping. She pressed her finger to her lips and he nodded in understanding, hunkering down a little.

She had no idea how many of them were on the ship. Cal was likely restrained and unarmed. She’d be on her own until she could free him. Stealth was her best call right now.

“BD,” she said, pulling him off her shoulder and setting him down. “Lead them over there, will you?”

He beeped an affirmation before scurrying away. He popped up on the rocks, chirping angrily at the Stormtroopers.

“Hey! That’s the Jedi’s droid!” one cried.

“Get him!” another cried.

All three ran for BD-1. Merrin waited until they got close before appearing behind them and swiftly taking them out. BD-1 hopped back onto her shoulder.

“Good job,” she told him. He let out a low, sad beep. “We’ll get him back, don’t you worry.”

She crept onto the ship. It was a big transport ship, but she was surprised to see there wasn’t much crew milling about. She sent BD-1 to scout ahead, but he returned and reported that the ship really was as empty as it seemed.

That explained the meager guard outside the ship. Likely, the dust storm, the harsh environment, and Cal himself had taken out a lot of the crew. Still, the ship wasn’t abandoned, so she’d have to be careful.

She followed the ship along until she got to a ladder. She carefully descended and slunk along the stacked cargo towards the sound of voices. 

She peeked out, and regretted it immediately.

There in a cell was Cal, unarmed and injured on the ground. His hands were handcuffed securely behind his back. Two Stormtroopers stood over him, one of them kicking Cal roughly.

“Won’t be long now til we leave,” he was saying. “Then we’ll lock you up someplace you’ll never escape. Until, at least, they decide to execute you. Jedi scum.”

The other wielded a shock stick. When the first stopped kicking Cal, the second jabbed him with the shock stick until Cal screamed in pain, body writhing uncontrollably.

Merrin would see no more. She stepped out and strode over to the Stormtroopers. Before the first had noticed her, she’d killed the one shocking Cal. The first spun to face her, reaching for a blaster. He was dead on the ground before he ever touched it. 

“Cal!” Merrin dropped to his side, grabbing his arm.

He was breathing harshly, a heavy sheen of sweat on his forehead. But, in typical Cal-style, he cracked his eyes open and gave her a weak grin.

“Took you long enough,” he croaked out.

BD-1 hopped off her shoulder and practically danced around Cal, beeping and chirping and nudging him all over. Cal tried to lift his hands, then seemed to remember they were handcuffed behind him.

“I’m alright, buddy,” he assured, bumping his head against BD-1 instead. “Help me out?”

BD-1 got to work on the handcuffs. Cal was pale and shaky, looking like staying conscious was taking effort.

She had to get him out of here. He wasn’t strong enough to properly protect himself right now.

“Your lightsaber?” she asked.

The handcuffs clanked to the ground and Cal rubbed his raw wrists, wincing at the contact. “The one in charge took it. They figured binding my hands would limit my force abilities, but were smart enough to take the lightsaber away. I’ve got to get it back.��

“We will,” Merrin said, helping him up. He staggered dangerously, but she was there to support him. “I will retrieve your lightsaber. You wait by the exit.”

“Merrin-”

“Cal. Do not argue. If there was not a dust storm, you would have been lost to us.”

Whatever expression was on her face, it was enough to make Cal nod slowly. “Alright. I’ll wait by the exit. Thank you. For coming.”

“Don’t be a fool, Cal Kestis,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Of course I came.”

He gave her a small smile, despite his bruised face. She looked at the ragged state of him - bruised face, disheveled hair and clothes, raw wrists, and exhausted eyes. And yet he still wanted to carry on the fight. 

“Rest, Cal,” she said, her voice firm because if it was not, he would help anyway. It was just his nature. If he was breathing, he was fighting. 

She helped him up the ladder and sat him by the exit, leaving BD-1 to guard him because she couldn’t bring herself to leave him on his own. As thoughts of him being taken from them all forever invaded her mind, she chased them away by taking vengeance on the imperials who had captured and hurt him.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #16

Resident Evil - #16 - Concussion

*

It was not the reunion Claire had been hoping for.

That a minor outbreak had happened when she was visiting with Chris had been bad enough, but the fact that Leon Kennedy had been in the area had made it worse. Not because she minded Leon, but because having Leon at his back always made Chris braver.

And now Chris was in danger. 

“Claire, we’ll get him,” Leon assured.

“I know we will,” she said firmly. But her heart was pounding at the thought of her brother alone with the terrorist who had caused all of this. What would he do to Chris? 

Dammit. Chris had gone after him on his own, trusting Leon to contain the infected to a small area and take them out with Claire’s help. If Leon hadn’t been here, Chris would’ve stayed with Claire, not gone running off on his own. 

No, it wasn’t fair to blame Leon for Chris’s recklessness. Leon was exceptionally capable of handling these kinds of situations, so it made sense Chris trusted him so much. They’d fought together before and held a high respect for each other. It wasn’t Leon’s fault things had played out this way; he hadn’t wanted Christ to go ahead on his own either.

Now, they ran for the building they knew the terrorist was holed up in. A path of carnage told them Chris had definitely come through here. Claire quickly scanned the face of every body they passed, relieved to see only the infected and not her brother. 

They shoved the doors open and ran inside. Chris had taken out the security system, and a few more infected bodies scattered the hallway before them. 

But a few live ones turned at the noise and began to run at them, shrieking. Leon and Claire took up the position they’d quickly adopted together, and fired on the infected. 

“Which way do you think he went?” Claire asked once the last had fallen. 

Leon looked around and pointed. “Look, there. That door’s knocked off its hinges.”

They hurried forward through the door. They followed Chris’s trail of carnage and destruction up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, and through another door before they heard the gunfire.

“That’s Chris’s gun!” Claire said. 

They were running for the sound when it abruptly stopped and a sickening crash sounded instead. They picked up their pace, hearing a shattering sound up ahead. They slammed through the door just in time to see a large, mutated infected towering over a prone Chris.

“Chris!” Claire cried, raising her gun and firing wildly on the infected to draw its attention.

It let out a roar, swinging around and lumbering at them, raising a large fist. Leon and Claire dove out of the way of its blow, Claire continuing to distract it as Leon looked for a weakness.

He found it in the form of a pulsing growth on the creature’s neck. He fired relentlessly on the spot until the infected fell dead to the ground.

Claire wasted no time in rushing to Chris’s side, dropping on her knees next to him. He was unconscious on the ground, a gash on his head bleeding badly.

“Chris,” she said, trying to gently rouse him as Leon knelt and began to tend to the wound on Chris’s head. 

Chris groaned and cracked his eyes open. “Cl…Claire?”

“Here,” she said, relieved. She brushed her fingers through his hair, Chris wincing under the touch. “You hurt your head.”

“Infected…uhhh…struck me,” he muttered, laying his head back down and closing his eyes.

“Chris, stay awake,” Claire urged. “Leon’s here with me. We’re going to get you out of here and get you help.”

“Nuh,” he mumbled. “Gotta…get the…terrorist. Window. Went out the w-window.”

“Then he’s gone,” Leon said, going over to the window and looking out. “You need medical attention and then we’ll go search for him. The more you argue, the more time you waste.”

Leon and Claire got under Chris and struggled to get him upright. They pulled his arms across their shoulders, staggering a bit under his weight but determinedly moving forward with Chris between them. 

“Thanks,” Chris slurred.

“Definitely concussed if he’s thanking us,” Leon said.

Claire smiled a little. “It’s what he gets for running off on his own. Dumbass.”

Chris pinched her shoulder with uncoordinated fingers. She resisted the urge to drop him in revenge. 

At least he was well enough to be a jerk to her like that. Even with the gash in his head and the definite concussion causing him to stagger and slur, he was still alive. He’d recover from these injuries.

Claire hated to see his commendable bravery on display. Because as proud as she was of Chris, she dreaded these moments where he was injured, living with the fear that one day he’d receive an injury he couldn’t recover from.