#just find a buncha gates that are near enough each other you can get there in one cycle

[anothermonikan]

never try to achieve The Nomad in Rain World, most stressful time of my fucking life (I did it tho :DD)

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

--

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

--

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

--

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

--

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

--

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

--

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

--

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

--

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

--

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

--

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

--

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

--

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

--

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

--

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

--

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

--

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

[wftc141]

Blackwatch Chapter 3: DedPersons

9:11 AM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

June, 2018

"Grazie." Amélie said as she took the hot cup of coffee from the young cashier.

She simply returned a warm smile before turning back to the long queue. Amélie turned away and headed for the door where Gabriel was waiting for her, leaning against the door frame with a cup of coffee as well. The cafe was quite bustling and full, especially during the morning. A lot of customers were either doing errands or getting themselves the newest arrival on the board. Once Amélie walked past Gabriel, he turned away and followed her out onto the crowded plaza.

"As I was saying," Gabriel started, continuing his earlier conversation. "I think we might be going back to Zambia."

"What makes you think that?" Amélie asked.

"The fact that the NSA scooped up some footage of a new leader taking over the Macaba militia camp. They don't know who it is but they believe it's someone from the Macaba family."

"How many relatives do you think he has?"

"Probably enough to run an army."

No words were spoken between them afterwards. Gabriel stared out at the glint of the scorching sun from a distance with his sunglasses reflecting the blinding light off. His frown, surrounded by the goatee, remained plastered on his face and he tugged the collar of his shirt sticking to his skin.

"What's with the long face?" Amélie asked, grabbing Gabriel's attention.

"What'd you mean?" He replied as he sipped his coffee.

"You look like somebody slapped you really hard."

"Isn't this how I normally look?"

"Gabe, you and I have been together since the first day Blackwatch was activated. I already know what you look like by now."

Gabriel sighed while tapping the cup with his fingers. He stared at what's in front of him without glancing at Amélie. His other hand slid into his pocket.

"I just found out my kids are about to graduate yesterday and when I asked Jackie if I could come, she wouldn't let me. Doesn't want me involved in their lives anymore. Guess that's what happens when I'm a dedicated soldier with no time for family."

"You two still haven't worked things out?" She asked.

"Sadly, no."

"C'est une honte. What about your kids?"

"We're still on good terms but my daughter still doesn't approve of the war and she probably hates my guts for it."

"Would you really blame them? Not everybody is into killing." Amélie said, adjusting her sunglasses.

Gabriel scoffed. "Says the woman who once murdered rich people and performed ballet as if nothing ever happened."

Amélie ignored him and took a sip of the coffee as they walked out of the plaza and into the street. As they stopped by a crossing light, Gabriel took out his phone from his pockets which buzzed in his hand. He answered it and lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was a brief pause, attracting Amélie's curiosity despite voices around them drowning each other out. Gabriel nodded shortly with his eyes flicking downwards.

"Alright. We'll be there."

The call finished and Gabriel lowered his phone. Amélie stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"Well, this is a surprise." He said, slipping the phone back into his pockets.

"Mission?" Amélie asked.

"Maybe. Sombra's in Virginia with the CIA and she needs us there tomorrow afternoon sharp."

Next Day

3:21 PM, Local Time

McLean, USA

George Bush Center for Intelligence

The team arrived at the headquarters after a long flight to McLean. As they entered inside, they were immediately greeted by the sight of Sombra reclining on one of the couches nearby. Several other people at the very back filed in back and forth across the reception area where the large CIA seal was plastered on. Once her eyes locked onto the team, she got off the couch and approached them.

"About time, amigos. You guys are really slow, ya know?" She said.

"Get straight to the point, Sombra. What's going on?" Gabriel replied.

"Blackwatch." A voice called out, attracting the team's attention.

They turned towards the source of the voice and noticed Salvatore approaching them. He wasn't alone however as there was a woman walking beside him. Blonde Hispanic with hair tied into a bun and a grey suit. Possibly in her forties.

"Glad you were able to make it, Reyes," he said before gesturing towards the woman. "Allow me to introduce you all to Mrs Alexis Morales, Director of the National Clandestine Service. Mrs Morales, this is the Blackwatch unit I was telling you about."

"I see," the director hummed as she glanced across the team. "Pleasure to meet you all. If you would just follow me to the debriefing."

She turned away and walked off towards the corridor on the right. Salvatore nodded towards them, prompting the team to follow her. Once they arrived at the conference room, they sat down facing the projector in front of them. Morales and Sombra stood beside it while Salvatore watched from the side.

"I would like all of you to open up the folders placed in front of you and read all of the contents thoroughly." Morales ordered.

The team picked up the folders and read through the documents in silence. Morales then started up the projector, presenting a PowerPoint on their mission.

"Last week, the CIA was hit by a DDoS attack for two hours and by the time the servers were back online, the data inside vanished. Thanks to the efforts of Sombra, we have discovered that the attack came from a group of hackers via a digital trail they left behind."

"You know, I actually found it funny that you guys were able to miss that one tiny detail. I mean, come on! Was that so hard to find? I thought your analysts were meant to be the brains of the agency." Sombra said.

"As Mrs. Morales was saying," Salvatore continued, ignoring the red-haired hacker. "Based on the emails Sombra intercepted, the hackers were hired by a communist mafia who call themselves the People's Republic of Romania."

"So, a communist mafia. That's new." Marvel commented.

"These men are loyal to the ideas of communism. Formed during the Cold War, they were known for many crimes of the states, mainly in countries that don't support their views. Money laundering, arms trafficking, murder, counterfeiting, anything that falls under the category of organized crime."

"What'd they steal?" Ray asked.

"Oh, you know. Just a buncha names and secret stuff that could be used against the government, the same old." Sombra answered.

"And it's best that we retrieve the data back and if possible, eliminate the mafia by all means. We cannot risk retaliation or worse, a conflict. The digital trail Sombra found led us to a ranch in Bennington, Vermont where satellite footage has reported sightings of what appeared to be the mafia taking over the ranch along with the hackers. We are safe to assume this is where the data would be at."

"Me, McCree and Sombra can take this one." Gabriel said.

"What do we do about the hackers?" Sombra glanced at the leader.

"Unless they try to shoot back, they aren't our main priority."

5:47 PM, Local Time

Bennington, USA

After touching down at the William H. Morse Airport, Gabriel and his group got off the plane where several agents were posted nearby. They made their way to a black Tahoe parked near the entrance gate where a pair of agents were. McCree took the driver's seat while the rest took the passenger seats. Starting the engine, McCree drove themselves past the gate and out to the narrow road.

As the drive progressed to the highway, Gabriel looked at the rear mirror and caught sight of Sombra at the back with purple headphones on and a phone on her right hand resting on her lap. God knows what she's listening to but it wasn't much of his concern and interest. He looked away and stared out of the window. The drab autumn trees tossed lightly, obscuring the sky while dark, ragged clouds close in. There was a report of wet weather on its way so the group brought in some jackets to keep them dry.

Few minutes later and they arrived at the road leading to the ranch. The entrance's gate was completely loose with its support wedged out of the terrain. Parking the Tahoe by the gate, the group hopped out with their weapons and backpacks and delved into the bushy forest next to the gate. Gabriel put on his ski mask partially like a beanie.

As they navigated through the forest, the leaves began to rustle and the shadows closed in completely. The sky by now was completely concealed by the clouds. The team stopped once they got close to the end of the forest where a fence was placed, leaving out the forest.

"Sombra, get your drone up."

Without a word, she went with it and took out her recon drone with an installed camera. After getting it airborne, she used her tablet to control the drone. Gabriel pulled out his binoculars from his backpack and scouted the ranch. There were fewer gangsters around the ranch than he had anticipated. The main entrance of the ranch was guarded by two armed men under a portable gazebo along with a white car parked near them.

"How many inside the house?" Gabriel asked.

"That's strange," Sombra muttered. "There's only like five guys and that's not including the hackers. Thought there was gonna be more."

"Maybe we're just overestimating 'em." McCree said.

"My guess as well." Gabriel replied.

Sombra glanced at the team leader while controlling the drone. "So how do you wanna pull this off?"

"If it follows the term 'stealth', then that's how we'll do it," Gabriel tossed his binoculars into his bag and pulled his mask on. "Lets go."

Once Sombra retrieved her drone, she held the custom MP7 slung around her shoulder and followed Gabriel and McCree out of the forest and over the fence. The lawn outside the ranch was overgrown with its grass rustling and waving to the breeze; It was long enough for the team to hide behind the foliage undetected. As Gabriel led the team towards the ranch, McCree and Sombra were at his rear checking back at the two men at the entrance.

The team reached the curved walkway, closing in on the house that stood in front of them. The dark brown paint and some of the wooden aspects of the two-floor house definitely stood out with the autumn forest around it. They can see the calm river behind the house as well.

As Gabriel approached the side of the house while crouching, he noticed a drip of water bounce off the rail of the rifle before continuous drips of water skimmed upon his body in a stable rhythm. Gabriel did his best to ignore it and pulled the hood over his head. By the time they reached the side, the rain was pouring on like wildfire. McCree and Sombra both pulled on their hoods from the oncoming rain.

Gabriel advanced towards the porch, walking up the stairs while aiming his rifle with the others following him and covering their rear. There, the team were shielded from the downpour with water dripping off the edges of the roof. They can hear the fierceness of the rain from the noisy impact from the roof.

"So, five hostiles inside, Sombra?" Gabriel whispered as he approached the door.

"Yep," She nodded. "Three upstairs and two downstairs."

Gabriel clasped his free hand over the doorknob. Turning it over, the lock clicked and the door slowly moved. Gabriel slowly pushed the door open with his right shoulder without bumping it hard and peeked through the narrow gap. Through the gap, he could see a defect washing machine stacked against the wall. There was no sign of anybody from what he could see. Gabriel pushed the door further and made his first step onto the wooden floor.

Once the door swung open, Gabriel made his move first while scanning the area with his rifle. Sombra was the last to enter and closed the door softly, shutting out the hailing rain outside. Gabriel glanced around as he headed out of the room and into the corridor, leading to what appeared to be a dining room.

He stopped once he reached the end and peered to his right where he noticed a stout man sporting a work shirt in the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge. Gabriel stepped back and held out his right hand curled into a fist while holding the foregrip tightly. Sombra and McCree stopped but still held their weapons. The man called out to someone in Romanian with whoever it was responding back.

Gabriel checked up on the man who closed the fridge door and walked back towards the living room with a beer can. Gabriel moved forward in a fast pace and aimed his rifle for the head, flicking the safety pin off. He had no reason to doubt whether that guy was one of the mobsters or not. Pulling the trigger, the suppressor flashed and the man fell in an instant with two bloody holes on the back of his head, tumbling over a chair. A loud hiss coming from the fallen can rang across the room.

"One down." Gabriel muttered, flicking the safety back on.

As he went around the table to check on the body, he heard the voice from the other room call out in concern. Gabriel jumped over to the right side of the arch and aimed his rifle at the corridor next to the living room, safety off again. Shortly, a slightly skinnier man in a worn sweater emerged from the corridor with a pistol in hand. Just as he noticed the body, Gabriel fired several rounds to the gangster's chest before he fell back.

"That's the second one down."

Sombra and McCree walked past him as he checked the fat mobster he meant to look at. After making sure both of them were dead, Gabriel caught up with Sombra and McCree where they were by the stairs. Patting McCree's shoulder, he advanced up the stairwell with McCree taking the lead. Once they reached the upper floor, they found themselves facing a door with a narrow corridor to their left, leading elsewhere. The lights were off, leaving nothing but shuttered shadows with drips sliding down.

Gabriel approached the door, closed and silent. A room with a closed door is more likely to be occupied by hostiles, which was something Jack Morrison taught back in the day. He still remembered how much he tried to one-up the Sergeant during their early years when he was still a Private searching for the thrills.

Gabriel stood next to the door and waved at Sombra and McCree, prompting them to stack up next to it. Once they were ready, Gabriel stepped in front of the door and kicked it open, boot making contact near the doorknob. As the door flung open, Gabriel stormed into the room. He noticed several people facing the computer monitors spin around, startled. His left eye caught sight of a gangster reaching for his gun on the table. Gabriel aimed and fired several rounds to his body. He fell onto the table forcibly before sliding off. Several suppressed shots were fired and more bodies landed on the floor.

"Room clear!" McCree barked.

Gabriel aimed his rifle at the hackers, still stuck to their seats. All of them had their hands up, keeping their backs towards them. They looked young and dressed in clothes young people would wear.

"Stay right where you are." Gabriel ordered.

The hackers remained frozen, probably already got the message. As his breathing kept a steady pace, Gabriel began to step away from them while keeping his aim at them.

"Sombra, get the data and everything they stole into this drive." Gabriel took out a hard drive from his pocket for Sombra.

"Got it, jefe." She replied, taking the hard drive and approaching one of the server racks nearby with a laptop on it.

"McCree, go outside and keep watch."

"Yessir."

McCree quickly left the room but left the door open. Sombra plugged in the hard drive into the laptop and began to make that computer magic. As she tapped into the network, one of the hackers began to turn around while still keeping his hands up. His hair was light blonde and a necklace hung in front of his maroon hoodie. Gabriel didn't bother to order him to turn back, unless he was armed.

"Wait a minute," he muttered with a Polish accent. "Y-you're Sombra? The actual Sombra?"

She turned around and pulled the hood off, letting her hair loose. "Who's asking?"

The hacker and the others exchanged glances of surprise, gasping and chatting amongst each other. Gabriel still kept his aim at them.

"Niesamowite! I can't believe it! You're a legend in the hacking industry!" The Polish hacker exclaimed.

"Aww, it's nice to know I have some fans," Sombra replied, turning away. "I heard about you guys too and how you managed to break into the servers with a DDoS attack. Took some bolas for you boys to rob the CIA."

"Wait, wait? The CIA?" The Polish hacker repeated.

Sombra wasn't too surprised since one of the emails she retrieved indicated that none of them knew who they were actually robbing.

"Oh? They didn't tell you?"

"N-No," he replied. "We were just told to steal some stuff from a rival mob and that was it."

"They were gonna pay us half the money we stole from the mob once we finished." Another hacker with a Finnish accent added.

Sombra hummed in a doubtful manner. "Take it from me, guys. Gangbangers nowadays don't play ball when it comes to money."

Gabriel wasn't into the conversation of any way. This was a mission, not a get-along group.

"How's the progress, Sombra?" He growled, glancing at her.

She tapped a key, displaying a loading bar on the screen and turned to Gabriel. "Gonna take a while, jefe."

"Reaper, you might wanna see this." McCree called out from outside.

Gabriel went out of the room and noticed McCree watching the window at the corridor. He was staring outside with his free hand holding the curtains aside.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Some of our Romanian buddies are back." McCree said, moving away for the leader.

Gabriel pushed the curtains away and glanced out the window overlooking the front yard. Two SUVs and the white car from the entrance were closing in on the house. Gabriel had a gut feeling that these guys now knew they weren't expecting visitors.

"Shit, they must've discovered our car." He muttered as the vehicles stopped and the doors opened.

"What do we do, boss?" McCree asked.

The front door opened and voices filled the floor from below. They heard footsteps advancing up the stairs. Gabriel got his rifle ready and aimed at the stairs while approaching it. McCree followed suit. Just as he reached the start of the stairs, Gabriel immediately caught contact of a large, bald man with a pistol in his right hand heading towards their direction. Gabriel opened fire first with three rounds to his chest. The pistol went off, hitting the ceiling as the gangster tumbled back down and slammed against a rail.

As voices began to escalate over the sounds of the hailing rain, Gabriel and McCree went down the stairs and got a glimpse of another gangster appearing from a room near the front door. Gabriel quickly put him down before he could raise his own gun. He approached the living room to his right, only for two gangsters to come into his way.

They both opened fire while backing up. Gabriel ducked below oncoming bullets while still aiming his rifle. The skinny gangster he was aiming for was really bad at aiming or even holding it properly, therefore allowing several rounds hit his body while the rest penetrated the slider doors. The other one was out of sight. Gabriel heard several suppressed shots from the other side as he entered the living room.

He turned to the kitchen where he found the rest of the gangsters holed up together. Gabriel counted three gangsters before taking cover from suppressive fire. He switched the rifle to his left hand and fired back without peeking over. The gunfire slightly ceased, prompting Gabriel to grab a stun grenade under his jacket. With a hard toss, he listened to the grenade bounce and slide on the wood before a deafening bang erupted.

When the groans and shrieks followed up, Gabriel moved out of cover and raised his rifle, taking out the two gangsters who moved away from the kitchen before approaching the last one. As he moved towards the counter, Gabriel noticed a gangster hiding behind the table too late before he made his attack.

They both shuffled and struggled as the gangster's hands gripped over Gabriel's rifle with the discharge hitting elsewhere being unhelpful. Gabriel kicked his leg with little effect. The gangster pushed Gabriel against the wall, knocking off something hanging on the wall. Just as Gabriel felt a fist slam across his face, his rifle was yanked off his grip. His left hand balled into a fist and it felt as if he had no control of the hand.

As soon as let his hand loose, it flung at the gangster's side and Gabriel let it continue until his muscles gave up. He lifted his fist and sent it flying to the gangster's face, hitting his jaw. With the gangster dazed, Gabriel punched the arms holding him, breaking himself free. He noticed the gangster's pistol tucked in front of his pants and pulled it out before he could. Without hesitation, Gabriel fired two shots to the chest and a final blow to the head.

As the gangster fell onto the chair, tumbling down with it, Gabriel scanned the rest of the room with the pistol. After making one last sweep and confirming the house was empty, Gabriel lowered the gun to take a look. A Mauser C96. Very old fashioned. Dropping the gun, Gabriel reached for his rifle and patched in.

"Main house is clear. Shadow 3, what's your status?" He said, holding his fingers on the earpiece.

"Clear on my position!" McCree huffed, sounding like he had a massive firefight outside.

Gabriel then ordered him to head back inside and went upstairs. He walked up to the door which was shut. Sombra would be at her defensive position at this point.

"This is Shadow 1, hold your fire." He called out.

The door suddenly opened and Sombra appeared in his view, holding her MP7. Gabriel walked inside where the hackers were still there. Shaken but fine overall.

"Is it done?" Gabriel asked.

"Yep," Sombra replied, holding up the hard drive. "Everything they stole is in here."

Gabriel nodded, ignoring the hackers. "Alright, lets go."

"What about them?"

He stopped and turned around where Sombra was facing. The hackers were still there. They may be tricked into stealing from the world's well known agency but their crimes can't go unpunished. Unless they were willing to accept. The CIA or Salvatore could give zero shits if he puts them down or not but they were lucky he wasn't given that order. Gabriel approached them and aimed his rifle at them, startling the hackers and prompting them to raise their hands.

"Jefe, what the hell are you doing?" Sombra called out.

He ignored her and remained fixated at those young men, aiming across them with a sight focused on each of them. For the next few seconds, it was silent except with the frantic breathing.

"You do know the rifle's safety is on?" Gabriel said, still aiming his rifle. "That means I can't shoot anything out of it unless I flick it off. And you know what happens when it's off?"

No response.

"R-Reaper, we got what we came for. You don't have to-" Sombra tried to say.

"I can kill all of you right here, right now. In fact, I wouldn't be here to waste my time talking to you kids. I can just pull the trigger and get this over with...but you're lucky I don't have the order."

Gabriel moved slowly towards the Polish hacker and held his glare at him.

"What you've done and how you did it can't be left ignored. And I don't give two shits if you were hired by the mafia or whoever that was. You pay for the price, no matter the circumstance. But I'm not in the mood of taking a life of another man so I can tell you this and you better listen closely cause I won't repeat myself."

The Polish hacker was on the verge of breaking down, trembling non-stop. Gabriel glanced at the rest of the hackers. He already had their names way back at Virginia from the leaked trail.

"Daniel. Antero. Miles. Noah. Roman. You leave this house and you don't speak of this ever again. I don't care how, just as long as you're outta here. And don't try anything stupid on the way out cause we will be watching you. But if I hear another mention of any of your names, we will hunt you down and once I find you...this safety won't be on. Do I make myself clear?"

The whole room was dead silent with fear. Roman was already petrified with the barrel of the rifle pressed against his chest as well as the others. Everybody nodded frantically.

"SAY IT." Gabriel barked.

The hackers all said 'yes' hastily and between squeaks and mumbling. Gabriel sighed and lifted his rifle away from Roman.

"Good," he began to dig into his pockets and took out the keys to their car. "The car's at the front entrance down the forest. Black Chevrolet. Take this and get outta here. No smart moves, got it?"

All of them nodded beyond normal and Gabriel handed the keys to Roman. As soon as the keys were off his hand, the hackers began to gather their things with the backpacks and they dashed out of the room. He turned around where Sombra was standing outside, bewildered and surprised. Gabriel got out the SAT phone and dialed the number.

"Jesus, Reaper," She muttered. "Was this part of your Scaring Kids to Death initiative or something?"

"It's done," Gabriel said, ignoring Sombra. "The data is in the drive."

There was a pause before Gabriel nodded and finished up the call. He slipped the phone into his pockets and went down the stairs.

"We're leaving. The cops are already on their way," he tapped the earpiece. "McCree, find a car that is still running because we'll be using it."

"Got it."

As Gabriel and Sombra left the house, they walked off the porch to the sight of bodies scattered and sprawled around the field with bullet-ridden cars left behind, smoke rising from the front. A white SUV backed up to where Gabriel and Sombra was and turned to the side with McCree driving. The two stored their equipment and backpacks in the boot and got in, staining the seats with soaked clothed. Just as they did so, the car sped off and drove around the dumped cars before reaching the front gate, hearing nothing but the raging downpour.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 1

Jack and Skies go on an important mission. Previous! Next!

--

Chapter 20

           I was lying on one of the office couches, glaring a hole into the ceiling, feeling just lousy.

           Jack had been called away to an emergency meeting, leaving me alone to brood about past events.

           If I had gone to Slab Town, I could’ve at least held off the Vault Hunters long enough for Jack’s mortars to destroy the whole place. But because Angel interfered with my first fight with them, Jack didn’t want me facing them again. He didn’t trust my abilities anymore.

           Ugh, I wish that didn’t sting as much as it did.

           My only option to fix it would’ve been telling him the truth about Angel, but I highly doubt he would’ve believed me. He would’ve just gotten angry, accused me of blaming her for my problems. It would’ve made things worse.

           So all I could do was wallow in self-pity.

           I didn’t have long to wallow though when Jack burst through the doors.

           “Let’s go!” he boomed.

           “Huh?” I questioned, sitting up. “Go where?”

           “A group of bandits have stolen an Eridium shipment,” he replies, “we have to go get it back.”

           “We do? Wait,” I said as I followed him to the fast travel station. “Why us? Isn’t this more of a job for like mercenaries or something?”

           “I like to be personally involved in small jobs like this sometimes. Let people know they can’t screw with me or my company.”

           “Right. Well, I’m always down for murder.” Especially if it meant proving that I’m not useless.

           We teleported to the location: a Hyperion base somewhere on Pandora. The workers were all in a tizzy, racing about like bugs. Then Jack obnoxiously cleared his throat and everyone froze.

           “Wow, that was impressive,” I commented.

           “Where’s Rickman?” Jack asked.

           “Uh, that’s Richman, sir,” a suited man replied as he exited the crowd.

           “With that suit? I doubt it,” Jack scoffed, “is the crew together?”

           “Uh yes, sir,” he nodded, “they’re waiting for you at the gate.”

           “Good,” Jack grunted and we took our leave. The crowd parted around us as we went to the front gate where a large, armored black truck with yellow stripes was parked. Standing around it was a group of five armed men. They all stood at attention at the sight of Jack.

           “Wait, so you are using mercenaries?” I asked.

           “Well, yeah,” Jack replied, “the bandits are probably gonna put up a fight. They always try even though they must know they’re gonna fail.”

           “But…” I wanted to say, ‘but that’s why I’m here’, but bit my tongue. I couldn’t stand the thought of sounding so…needy.

           We all climbed into the truck. Two of the mercs were in the front seats while the other three were in the back with us, though they were on different seats. Everyone seemed really tense with Jack so near.

           I sighed as I rested my chin in my hand and watched the desert go by through the window. The mercs kept talking to each other in code, probably trying to sound smart. My mood had worsened and every time one of them opened their mouth, I had to fight the urge to punch their teeth down their throat.

           We drove for a few minutes before the driver spoke up. “Approaching the target.”

           Jack and I both perked up and looked out the windshield. Ahead of us was a bus covered in metal plating and spikes. Sitting on top were two people in armor. They immediately started firing their assault rifles when they saw us but their bullets bounced harmlessly off the truck’s hull.

           “Well, take them out already,” Jack ordered, “but do not destroy the Eridium. We need that.”

           The guy in the passenger seat rolled down his window and began firing a shot gun, aiming for the wheels. But the bandits weren’t dumb. They wouldn’t let the merc get a decent shot and kept firing at him. I rolled my eyes judgmentally.

           One of the bandits tossed a grenade. Our driver jerked the wheel and I bumped into Jack as we barely dodged the blast.

           I lost my temper and jumped up. “Shoot them, you morons!”

           The mercs all seemed surprised by my outburst and the passenger tried to shoot the bandits but kept missing. I groaned with aggravation and stomped to the front.

           “Hey, Skies!” Jack snapped but I ignored him.

           “Outta my way!” I barked as I tugged the merc out of the window. “Like this.”

          I drew my pistol, poked out of the window while the bandits were reloading, and fired twice, a bullet for each head.

           “Now!” I snapped, “shoot the wheels.”

           I fired a couple more times and tore the back right tire apart. The bus immediately started losing control and swerving.

           “There,” I grunted, “you buncha amateurs.”

           The passenger merc looked offended but before he could argue, the driver cried out.

           We looked forward and exclaimed as we careened towards the back of the bus. It looked like it stopped in its tracks. Our driver swerved and hit the brakes, throwing the rest of us forward. We barely tapped the back of the bus.

           “What the hell happened?” Jack demanded as he lifted himself up off the floor of the truck.

           I threw open the passenger door, jumped out, and raced to the front of the bus, skidding to a stop at what I saw.

           It looked like the bus had been cut in half, the back left behind. When I turned ahead, I saw a smaller vehicle driving away with two back wheels closer to the middle than the edges and a tailgate. Standing behind it were about three people in matching armor that I quickly recognized: Crimson Raiders. And beside them I could make out crates of Eridium.

           I snarled and readied my laser cannon. Then one of them lifted their fist and wiggled it around. My ECHO eye zoomed in on a detonator.

           I gasped and spun around as Jack got out of the truck.

           “What the hell is goin-?” Before he could finish, I grabbed the front of his jacket and dove to the side just as the back of the bus blew up. The truck flew into the air, flipped around a couple times, and crashed into the ground.

           “Jesus!” Jack exclaimed at the fire and destruction before us. As we stood up, I looked back at the Crimson Raiders. My ECHO eye could still see them but they were steadily getting out of range.

           “Jack, these aren’t just bandits,” I said, “they’re the Crimson Raiders.”

           “What’s the difference,” he shrugged, “I’ll just call some reinforcements and-.”

           “Reinforcements?” I snapped, “we don’t have that kind of time! They’re getting away.”

           “Relax,” he groaned, “we’ll find them, torture them, and kill them. Easy peasy.”

           “How can you say that after what just happened? We completely underestimated them! Look, if I leave right now I can-.”

           “No way. What if your prosthetics stop working again?”

           “It won’t happen again!”

           “How do you know!”

           “Because-.” Because I didn’t think Angel would care about a bunch of random Crimson Raiders if the Vault Hunters weren’t involved.

           “Besides, you’re my bodyguard,” Jack added, “you can’t just leave me alone out here.”

           I groaned with irritation and turned back towards the Crimson Raiders. They were nearly out of range.

           I heard moaning from behind and turned around as one of the mercs pulled himself out of the wreckage of the truck. He looked pretty beat up but more or less alive.

           “Perfect,” I chimed and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him to his feet and shoving him towards Jack. “Watch him.”

           “Wh-whuh?” the merc mumbled.

           “Huh!” Jack snapped.

           “I’m getting that Eridium,” I declared and raced away.

           “Skies!” Jack barked after me.

           I took a running start then activated my air cannon and blasted into the sky. I flew through the air, landed, then did it again, quickly gaining ground on the Crimson Raiders. With my ECHO eye zoomed in on them, I could see that they didn’t know I was chasing them. It looked like they were already starting to celebrate. Then one of them noticed me.

           They pointed dramatically and the others whipped around as I shot into the air again and came down on their tail.

          They were all exclaiming with surprise as I aimed my laser cannon, but I didn’t fire it. Instead, I drew my pistol with my left hand and shot out both of their back wheels.

           They swerved a bit but the driver managed to maintain control. The Crimson Raiders in the back were pulling out their guns but I shot myself into the air before they could shoot and flew over the truck. I landed on the hood, startling the driver and the passenger. Before they could do anything, I shot them both in the head with my pistol.

           The truck lost control as the driver’s body slumped against the steering wheel and swerved to the left. I blasted off just before it crashed into a large rock.

           As I landed back on the ground, the other Crimson Raiders jumped out the back and took aim at me. I smirked, lifted my laser cannon, and blew them all to mush.

           I stepped over their remains and peeked inside the back of the truck, making sure there was no one left. Inside were ten large crates of Eridium.          

           I scratched my head and looked back. My ECHO eye wasn’t picking up Jack or any vehicles. I was too far out of range. So I went to the front of the truck and popped the hood. The engine was smoking but it looked like it would still work for a bit longer.

           I threw out the two corpses and climbed into the driver’s seat. It was little janky to control, what with the blown out back tires, but it would work to get back to Jack.

           I called him on the way. “Jack, I’m coming back. And I got the Eridium.”

           “None of it had better be damaged,” he snapped back.

           “Relax, it’s all fine,” I groaned, “I told you I could do it.”

           There was no reply and I smiled victoriously.

           Jack and that merc were where I left them, but a Hyperion bus was with them with a bunch of soldiers. They all looked at me with surprise as I pulled up and hopped out of the vehicle.

           “Eridium’s in the back,” I said, hooking a thumb towards the back of the truck.

           Jack glared at the soldiers. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Unload it!”

           They scrambled away and started moving the crates to the bus. I grinned as I leaned against the truck and watched them. Jack came and stood next to me.

           “So, not bad, right?” I smirked.

           “Alright, fine,” he relented, “you got the Eridium. But next time listen to my orders.”            “Well, maybe next time don’t order me to let the enemy go,” I retorted.

           “Well, maybe I wouldn’t if I was sure you wouldn’t screw it up.”

           “I didn’t screw it up!” I snapped, “look, whatever happened that time, it’ll never happen again.” I hoped.

           “Right,” Jack grunted, seemingly unconvinced. Then one of the workers told him all the Eridium was moved and his face softened. “Alright, let’s get back to the office. I’m sick of being out here. I’ll never get all of this dust out of my clothes.”            I shrugged. “Part of the risk of being out in the field.”

           “I don’t suppose you left any of them alive, did you?” he asked as we climbed into the bus.

           “Nope. All dead.”

           “Dammit. You had to have all the fun.”

           We both grinned as we took our seats in the back and drove away.