“A blind man will eat whatever is in front of him if it smells sweet enough, ‘for he is incapable of witnessing a poison he cannot see. That is what we must do to the world, we must feed their gluttony. If we want to feed them our poison, first we must blind them, because only then will they eat our lies to savor their appetite. But, they cannot know it was us that created their deformity. They must blame the world, their world, for their disability. But we are the world. Just as we are their crutch, we are the cloth covering their vision. Make them rely on you, and they will forever be your humble servants-”
I turned the audio file off, the monologue of Sabbath dialect and studies making me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even stand the sound of my mother, hearing the pride in her voice, more pride and joy than she had for her own daughters. She was sick in the head. No. I cannot align deviousness with sickness.
While evil itself was a disease, it was also a choice to consume.
I was grateful Damien was able to provide me classified Sabbath files of my mother’s work. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to do so, and he even mentioned subtly that he had to go through multiple intelligence firewalls and backways, even avoiding his own team from knowing what he was doing. If he was caught stealing Sabbath intelligence and material, given the information Owen had spilled on the live feed meeting…everyone would think he was once again working for them.
“A blind man will eat whatever is in front of him if it smells sweet enough…” I voiced aloud, taking a deep breath.
My office and lab were empty, the time far beyond midnight. A large storm was noticed twelve hours ago, large enough to cut off communications so most if not all the advanced team staff at Base Green were called back to Station Evolution to settle for the weekend. Damien included.
I didn’t know the details of how the exchange with Alala unraveled, given everyone had lost connection. All of the Milithreat personnel there had concluded it went well. Yet, I could tell Damien’s tone had changed from how it was before. Something awoke inside him from that conversation, covering his mind like a shroud. Maybe this break with the storm could be enough to rejuvenate him.
Blindness. Disabilities in one area often enhanced the other senses. Remove sight, a person had to rely on another sense for survival. Smell. Sound. Taste. Anathemas had a blindness in their eyes, not the blindness we think of pure darkness but that of blurred, blocked images. Hence why they stayed mostly underground and why bright flashing lights disturbed them. When the sun burned that bright white on Colony Negative, no doubt it would hurt anathema eyes.
So, what did truly lure them if not sight?
I watched hours of evidence I could, the very sight of it sickening me. I watched the body cameras from Damien and his team handling anathemas, the video of Cole’s neck being ripped apart from our first encounter. Yet if I needed to find the conclusion to this evidence, I had to look at the beginning. What attracted them? Sound alone was a possibility but it didn’t make sense for all the scenarios.
My mind flashed to the moment Wueh had ‘betrayed’ Damien, pinning him in front of that anathema cage. I had studied the anathema all morning, the creature only pacing back and forth out of anxiety. It was not until District Three drew their guns on Damien that the monster awakened with hunger.
Make them blind. Make them hungry. Then they will eat whatever is in front of them.
Then, back to our first encounter resulting in Cole’s death. Mere seconds before, my knife had been at Owen’s throat, his pistol pressed to my stomach. And multiple firearms pointed at us in a panicked frenzy. Violence. They were attracted by violence. The moment my mind went to that thought, it clicked. Noise wasn’t just enough.
There were plenty of scenarios like Damien and I alone multiple times, whether bickering in a closed room, or when he was carrying me out of spite back to Base Green. That alone wasn’t enough, because the violence wasn’t…authentic. While the spite was there, we didn’t want to harm each other. The anathemas passed by as if they didn’t care to acknowledge us, because to them, we weren’t a threat. A threat to each other? A threat to them? I suppose it didn’t matter.
I stopped the videos eventually just feeling a slight wave of nausea, turning my datapad off. It wasn’t until I glanced at the clock in the back, covered by papers and documents I had strewn all over the place.
1:12 am.
“Fuck,” I scowled at myself, glancing down at my communication device. It said Damien was offline.
We were supposed to meet at the firing range at 0100, and I had completely missed it. Fuck. I felt awful, I felt stupid. Here he was, going out of his way to try and help me overcome this issue, and I was too damn busy with my work to notice. Maybe he was still there? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to reach out to him given we both agreed to go offline.
The less people knew we were awake at the same hours, the better we could keep this private.
I secured my office for the night, making my way to the west side of the complex towards the training areas. The entire station was quiet, no souls about. Those awake at this moment were already at their stationed shifts: like the operation center, security consoles, or monitoring communications. Everyone else was long asleep.
I turned a sharp corner with a quickened, frustrated pace before colliding with a firm body.
“Sorry I-”
“Watch where you’re fucking….” Owen paused, seeing it was me, “Oh, good evening Doctor. You’re up late.”
He reeked of alcohol. No doubt he was enjoying his reprieve of recon work to return here for the weekend to drink and relax. Looks like he took it way too seriously. Despite his buzzed nature, he had a smirk on his face, not once taking a step back after colliding with me.
“If you’ll excuse me, Owen, I have work to attend to,” I tried to brush to the side, but he side-stepped in front of me, again. He was taller and broader than I was. He wasn’t as large as Damien, but compared to me, he dominated all aspects of physicality.
“The dorms are on the other end, Doctor. What interest do you have in the training areas?” He interrogated me, with that sickly smile as if he was just trying to do me a favor.
“It’s none of your fucking business,” I spat.
“I heard you and Rok had a fight. Saw that nasty punch you gave him…” he smirked, his eyes trailing me up and down, “Maybe we have more in common than you think.”
“Damien Rok and I made amends over our disagreement. Not everyone here has the maturity to act like an adult. Now, get out of my way. I will not ask you again,” I kept my voice firm and steady, even though my heart pounded with hateful adrenaline.
“As if you could stop me from getting what I want,” he laughed lowly, but did eventually step aside. I didn’t acknowledge his sickening comment, letting my shoulder bash harshly with his before making my way down the halls. I could feel that hatred inside me boil. I could see the way he looked at me, mask and all, mocking me with his eyes. I hated it.
I fucking hated him. Hated my mother. Hated myself.
Owen did not follow me, and soon enough I had reached the firing range, badging into the secure unit before seeing Damien waiting there patiently, pistols laid out on the table to the side. He perked up at hearing the door open, and even more so upon seeing it was me.
“Hey!” He smiled.
“I am so fucking sorry I’m late,” I sighed, exhaling my frustration as I placed my things to the side, running my fingers through my hair. I was so fucking pissed at myself, having to make him wait here and probably making him feel alone and worthless. It’s probably how I would have felt if the roles had been reversed.
“It’s alright,” he laughed softly, as if not caring for the slightest. In fact, he looked rather happy to see me. We hadn’t seen each other since…well, since we had sex.
“No, it’s not alright,” I dismissed his feelings, walking over to the table.
He remained silent for a moment, studying my body language, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I…well other than being late. I don’t like being late. I hate people having to wait for me too. You could be doing a million other things than this right now,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“I want to be here right now,” he leaned on the table with his hands, inching closer to me before looking into my eyes, “What else happened?”
“I…” I paused, seeing that he’d see right through my lies, “I bumped into Owen.”
“What!?” He immediately straightened up, “Did he say anything?”
“He asked where I was going.”
“That’s none of his business. I can-”
“No, Damien. It’s alright. I handled it. It just…he gets on my nerves, that’s all. And I was already pissed at myself for being late and busy with work,” I trailed off, fixing that angry strand of hair that always seemed to cover my right eye.
“I figured you were just working,” Damien nodded, glad that Owen didn’t bother me too much, “You cut your hair. It’s above your shoulders now.”
I did cut my hair, or rather indulged in an hour of peace at the salon. My hair had grown a tad longer than I liked and I missed the waviness my side part could give. The longer it grew, the more straight it became. I needed my hair a bit full to counter my thin face. So, a layered, slightly wavy bob cut was a good counter to how long my hair was growing. As much as I didn’t care for my looks, given my mask did all the talking, I did like my hair healthy.
I just had no idea Damien even noticed.
“I…yeah, I got it done yesterday. I know some might think it’s a little bit short-”
“No. I like it,” he smiled warmly. Too warmly. It wasn’t an awkward flame of warmth though.
Again, I knew something had happened after the meeting with District Seven, and it felt like he was using this moment to cover all of that up. Once again, using our weird relationship dynamic as a bandage to wounds maybe we could never heal. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t try, right?
Yet even I couldn’t deny his smile was contagious, smiling in return before taking a deep breath.
“Okay. You sure you’re okay with teaching me?” I asked.
“Of course,” he nodded, walking around the table now to stand beside me, “I always thought what I’d do if I left Milithreat and this soldier life behind in the past, I’d like to be a firearm instructor. For civilians and the like, teach them self defense, that there’s no fear in handling a gun.”
“You know, Colony 501 has a very strict firearm policy,” I pointed out, knowing that if he wanted that life, then he’d probably have to move on elsewhere.
“Yeah, figured I’d have to go somewhere else for that dream. Not like I’ve got anything waiting for me on 501,” he hummed, reaching for the pistol in front of me that was unloaded.
Well, maybe after all this mess, we could at least get coffee together before he moved on.
“Rule number one to any firearm training: assume every gun is loaded until you check yourself. So, if I handed you this gun, ensure it’s empty. Dislodge the magazine with this button here,” he showed me, “Then, check the inside of the barrel for no bullet lodged there either. Our standard pistols are laser generated, so there’s no need for magazines and there’s always a laser lodged cold in the chamber just not primed. But, for training purposes, we’re going to use limited ammunition for practice. Other Districts might use similar pistols like this.”
“Okay,” I nodded, watching intently as he loaded the pistol, keeping the barrel away before handing it to me. I felt the metallic weapon fit perfectly in my palm, parts of the handle cold but echoing with remnants of Damien’s warm hand. I dislodged the magazine like he said, then used my left hand to pull back on the slide to dislodge the remaining bullet.
“Good job,” he complimented me, moving to the side to grab some ear plugs and eye protection.
“So, I noticed when I shot Wueh…” I paused, swallowing the memory down, “the first shot had a lot of recoil. The second one almost felt easier.”
“That’s normal,” he nodded, “You charged the pistol when pulling down the hammer, priming it. That first shot will always pack a punch. The shots following after are just recycled heat and energy charging the next one, so it won’t cause much recoil.”
“Oh, good to know.”
Damien approached me, gently pushing the waves of my hair back to slot the earbuds in each ear. I held my breath at how close he was, smelling the hints of that aftershave of his that reminded me of a cold, stormy day on Colony 501. He had shaved, against my dismay, removing his five o’clock shadow. But I knew that was because he was returning to slight uniformity here at the main base.
“Can you hear me okay?” he asked as he had put his own earbuds in. I couldn’t hear anything else around me, even my own feet shuffling. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, and Damien’s voice clear as ever.
“Mhm,” I nodded, “Is it alright with the mask? Do you want me to take it off?”
“You’re good, Doctor,” he smiled, soon handing me eye protection, “Rule number two: safety remains on until you’re ready to fire. This pistol modification has a switch, red shows it’s ready to fire. Our Milithreat standard pistols don’t have a safety, only a stun function for non-lethal. But that first shot won’t fire unless you’re primed.”
The lane next to us lit up as he operated it, the first target appearing only fifteen feet away from the line. I stared at the black and white target of a figure, intimidated by that alone. Yet, I walked alongside Damien anyway, knowing that I had to overcome this. I had to. If I wanted to survive, if I wanted to protect myself and the people I cared about, then I had no choice but to learn.
“Rule three: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Never take the shot until you feel ready, too. Just take deep breaths,” he nudged me forward, slowly stepping behind me.
I could feel the sweat growing in my palm as I held the pistol, now relodging the magazine, knowing it was loaded as I kept the barrel pointed downward. I moved towards the line, taking long and nervous breaths. Damien was right behind me, his hands moving to my hips momentarily to adjust them.
“Do whatever feels comfortable,” he assured me, “some like shooting with a step forward. Some like to keep their feet spread to their shoulders. Whatever works for you, Jack. Eventually it just becomes and feels natural.”
I didn’t want shooting to feel that way, like a muscle memory, my body a sleeper agent to instill violence. Yet, it was the only way to get better. I raised the pistol level, still feeling his chest pressed to my back, one hand moving up to my arm to hold it steady.
“You know…it’s a bit hard to focus with you so close,” I admitted, trying to add a bit of humor to my nerves.
“Would you prefer I back off?” he asked sincerely.
“No,” I refuted immediately, feeling him even step closer. I tried to control my breathing, hearing it louder than anything else, even Damiens’ breath so close to my own. My finger drifted towards the safety button, flicking it upwards before an index lingered on the trigger.
Yet, I didn’t pull it. I couldn’t. I was fighting with myself internally. I remembered the sight of Wueh’s body lurching as the bullet put a hole in his chest. I remembered the guilt, the shame, the smell of just his blood lingering in the air. I remembered the feeling of taking someone’s life, deserved or not…that painful feeling lingered in my gut.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I immediately flicked the safety back on, taking a firm step away from Damien.
“It’s okay,” Damien nodded, angling himself to face me.
“No, it’s not okay!” I shouted at him, realizing that I had raised my voice at him. Yet, he remained, his face remaining gentle and understanding. “This should’t be so fucking hard!”
“Jack, just you getting to that line and holding the pistol is brave enough after everything that’s happened. We can take little steps,” he assured me.
“No. I can’t afford to take little steps. Not out there. I need to go back out there prepared. I already broke my promise, my vow. I can’t act like it never happened. I can’t let it rule over me when any moment of hesitation can get me killed, or the team killed. I need to protect myself.”
“You can protect yourself, Jack. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you slice with a sword without hesitation, and you can do so because it’s your element,” he stepped a bit closer, “think about fencing. I know there’s protective gear involved, I know you’re just lunging a blade at someone who can hardly feel the sting. This is the same right here, right now. I know what’s in front of you looks like a person, but it’s just a manufactured sponge.”
I nodded slowly at that, surprised he had even remembered that I did fence as a hobby at university. I did so because of rage. I had this pent up frustration inside me, I saw it as the only avenue to really unleash it. That was what I was afraid of. I knew I had anger inside me, and that with a firearm was never a good combination. It never could be.
“I got into fencing because I hated my mother. I liked the fact my opponent could wear a mask. I could always just pretend it was her…” I admitted quietly, seeing his eyes soften, “but I can’t use that technique here.”
“Why not?” he asked me.
“It’s dangerous. It’s one thing in a competition to use anger as a drive-”
“So don’t use anger,” he gently interrupted me, “I used to be that way too. I used to picture my enemies in front of me. Instead of picturing what I’d kill, I was picturing what I was saving, what I could, or should have saved.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I could see his resolve falter slightly, knowing who he was talking about.
“Scott, right? Your brother…” I whispered, seeing him nod.
“I shoot to protect him, even though it was my shot that had killed him. At first I thought that was rather hypocritical, is it not? But remembering the image of him, the kind of kid he was…the kid I once was,” he trailed off for a moment, “Sabbath made me fight for their cause. If I want to fight against that, I need something, or someone to push me there. He is that reason.”
So, what was mine?
I knew the answer to that, and I also knew I didn’t need to tell him it. He wasn’t asking for it, for me to spill the shame and guilt that stuck inside me. I couldn’t rely on someone else to protect me because I couldn’t protect myself. Even if it was Damien’s job, I couldn’t put that burden on him. I couldn’t continue to put myself into reckless situations, ones I knew were dangerous, and pull him into that with me.
With this, I could do my best to pull myself out as best as I could.
I lined back up, taking a deep breath. Damien returned behind me, keeping a slight distance this time, but still held his hand under my dominant arm to hold it level. He knew I had found my resolve, a core drive that would push me to my element. I was so very grateful he never asked to know.
Safety off, I primed with the pulling back of the hammer. I could feel the energy pick up as my index gently rested on the trigger. All it would take was a squeeze.
BANG!
Again, I jolted slightly at the recoil but Damien’s hand held my arms as steady as possible. I could feel my own energy surge as it had left the gun, pulling the trigger again.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!
I pulled the trigger once more but it clicked with emptiness, the slide pulled back showcasing an empty chamber. I didn’t even realize how quickly I had gone through all that ammunition.
“Look at that!” Damien laughed with encouragement, a proud grin on his face, “How do you feel?”
“I…I don’t know. Not terrible,” I answered, placing the gun down on a side table. I could feel a temptation of power, almost a shot of dopamine in my system at pulling the trigger. Oddly enough, it felt almost relaxing, as if firearms could actually be a fairly decent tool at instilling calm and discipline. I could see why men lingered towards this kind of hobby.
Damien pulled the sponge target forward to us, showcasing exactly where the bullet lodged itself in. Out of the six bullets I did shoot, only three actually hit the body while the others missed. One hit the shoulder, the other the side of his head, and the other the lower stomach.
“Not bad,” Damien smirked.
“It’s horrible,” I rolled my eyes.
“No, it’s not. You hit him. That’s all that matters. Doesn’t matter where, you did enough to slow him down, and then finished it with this shot by the head,” he pointed out.
“Okay but I was aiming at his center chest,” I huffed.
“It’s just bullet sway and recoil. With more time and practice, you’ll get used to it.
“You think?”
“I know it. I was the same way once. Just took a lot of time and repetition. The best thing though is that you know how to use it, and you know how to hit a target. Even though it’s not moving, it’s enough. If the other District’s out there learn that Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux can use a gun, they will all run the opposite direction,” he grinned, clearly teasing, “I also gave you the hardest training pistol to use.”
“You fucker!” I scowled playfully, slapping his shoulder.
“And you did great! You use my pistol with all the modifications, it’ll be a piece of cake,” he continued laughing.
“Yeah well, you were also distracting me,” I retorted, crossing my arms.
“I was helping you,” he clarified, switching that fucked up target with a newer one.
“You going to show me how it’s done?” I challenged.
He smirked at that, “Would you like that? I’ll even make it harder, do a speed draw.”
He approached the same pistol I used, lodging a new magazine of six rounds before securing it in his thigh holster. I took a few steps back, giving him space unlike what he gave me. He adjusted with the settings for his lane before standing straight, fingers lingering near that holster. A loud buzz went off, and immediately that target began to move rapidly on the tracks forward, backward, side to side. Another buzz and a flash of red, Damien immediately pulled out the pistol.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!
He shot them all before I could even blink. Five bullets were lodged cleanly into the target’s head, one just a tad lower into the chin and neck area.
“Show off,” I scoffed, although admittedly I was impressed. He made it look so damn fucking easy…and also a little bit attractive. My eyes flickered to his bicep as he dislodged the gun and locked the slide before placing it down.
“Your turn,” he ignored my comment, getting a new dummy set up.
I sighed, walking back over to grab a new magazine before loading the pistol. I pulled the slide hatch down, hearing it fully load before turning behind me. I don’t think Damien expected it, because his eyes were immediately down towards my lower hips before flashing up to mine with embarrassment.
“I was just…trying to figure out the fabric of your pants,” he replied coolly.
“Nylon,” I answered for him, turning back away from him to focus on my shot. I didn’t feel his same presence as before, gently pressed against me or holding my arms up. And I also didn’t feel his eyes staring at my ass any longer.
BANG BANG BANG…BANG…BANG!
The last shot I hesitated, arms shaking slightly out of anger knowing I had again, missed most of my first shots. I soon felt Damien’s hand rest firmly on my lower back, trailing up slightly.
“Relax,” he demanded softly to me, “take more breaths.”
I took a deep breath, letting each inhale and exhale burn my lungs, quell the nervous energy bouncing around in my muscles. I took his advice, wait until I felt ready.
BANG!
With my sights lined up in the chest, a calm breath, and slight adjustment, the bullet went right where I wanted.
“Did you see that? I did it!” I exhaled with a smile, although I knew he couldn’t see it. I hoped he could at least hear the slide pride in my voice. Yet when I craned my head, I could see his own proud smirk.
It didn’t feel so awful before. Yes, I knew the implications of what learning to shoot implied, but I was growing comfortable with the idea of mere training. Learning to handle firearms did increase the fear for them, at least when the gun was in my hand and not pointed at me.
“You killed it, no pun intended,” he laughed, making me snicker as well at his oddly horrible humor.
“Thank you,” I set the gun down, turning to look at him, “I know I’m a handful and this day hasn’t been the best but, you’ve been remarkably patient with me.”
“So have you,” he brought up, “After everything that happened with Cole and…everything else, kissing you rather unprovoked, you’ve been patient with me too. Patient and understanding.”
“Well, I still can’t quite understand why you kissed me,” I retorted playfully.
“I know a remarkable woman when I see one. I knew that from the first day I met you,” he replied earnestly, “and that only increases with each day that I know you. Not to mention…you’re very brave, determined, intelligent, and very very beautiful.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” I scoffed gently, although I felt bad immediately for dismissing his compliments so easily. I just certainly wasn’t used to it by any means.
Yet he still smiled, “Am I not allowed to behold you?”
I stared at his gray eyes, seeing a hint of a challenge in them, “I don’t think any answer I give would change your mind. Allowed to or not, you’re not one for following the rules, Rok.”
“So, why did you kiss me then?” He returned the challenging question to me.
I blinked, looking away for the moment. I wanted to shrug and be hesitant but I knew I had been confident in my decision. I didn’t want to appear as if I regretted the kiss or what came after. Far from it, actually.
“You look rather handsome when you’re begging for an apology,” I teased, before taking a deep breath, “Usually I run away from people. It’s just easier that way. After what happened with Alala, I wanted to be alone with my work even at the cost of my life. Even after hitting you, I couldn’t live with my guilt and shame and…I didn’t expect you to arrive at my door that night. I always run away…and you were the first to follow me.”
I moved to brush by him, yet his hand gently rested on my hip, pulling me even closer to him. He always did it with such ease, leaving me breathless at how my feet could feel so light with his touch.
“And…I don’t want that to be the norm. I don’t want to keep running away expecting you to follow. It’s not fair, nor right. I don’t know what any of this is,” I added.
“I don’t either,” he admitted, “but jumping into the unknown is kind of our territory, is it not? I don’t think it is anything a soldier and biological anthropologist can’t handle together.”
“Together,” I repeated, nodding slowly.
How badly I wanted him tonight, but I had plans for tomorrow. And they couldn’t be squandered by not getting a good night’s rest.
“Thank you, Damien. We should go, get a good night’s rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow,” I let my hand brush his arm, squeezing as much of it as I could gently before moving towards my gear.
“I will?” he asked with surprise.
“Yeah, I’ll send you coordinates tomorrow, if you have access to the Sioc. Is 0900 a good time?”
I could see his face light up, “Yeah, yeah that’s all good.”
I placed the ear and eye protection on the side tables, seeing him begin to grab his rifle to probably run a few more practice rounds. Seemed like he wasn’t going straight to sleep, unlike myself. I was more than exhausted. Yet it seemed so wrong to just say goodnight like this. I removed my mask, holding it in my left hand before approaching Damien.
His lips mine just as eagerly as I met his, the one free hand cupping his freshly shaved cheek. I could feel that smile he had possessed all evening across my own lips, his hand snaking around my bodice to rest comfortably at my backside. Yet I had to pull myself away, only due to my own temptation.
“Don’t be late,” I joked, securing my mask back on as I could see that fire in his eyes from a mere kiss alone.
“Yes ma’am,” he exhaled, looking like a parched man where water was far from his reach. If he had the patience to wait until tomorrow, maybe I’d be able to quench that.
Fucking hell, this man was going to be the death of me.
-
The storm was beginning to approach from the east, thunder echoing in the distance with flashes of lightning. But we still had a good hour or so before it reached our location, only a few miles west of the main base. I didn’t mind riding in the rain if I had to. In fact I loved the rain, there was something pure about it, a cleansing of the ground and sky around us.
I used to hate the idea of riding with someone behind me, holding the weight down, prohibiting that fast speed I liked travelling at to get wherever I was going. There was no rush to go anywhere on Colony Negative, though. I wouldn’t deny I liked the feeling of Damien's grip across my stomach, or the occasional large hand of his resting on the front of my thigh.
He had listened intently to my instructions and demonstrations, never once interrupting and always paying attention. It seemed he was genuine about learning how to ride.
“Okay, your turn,” my feet pulled at the kickstand before attempting to get off. I could feel Damien’s nervous hands still wanting to cling to my hips.
“Wait, I…are you sure?” he asked.
I removed my helmet to get a smell of that ‘fresh’ air, which was an aroma of nothing. Colony Negative smelled like nothing. No pine trees, no salt from oceans or lakes, not even the clay of broken homes and dreams had a scent. Everything about this place felt like a clean, blank slate, yet there were still the lingerings of a forgotten civilization written all over.
Clean slates meant a new start, though, even if still scratched up from the previous life.
“I’m sure. Do you want me to sit behind you? I can help you out,” I offered, drinking some water through my mask.
“No,” he shook his head, “That might make this worse.”
“Make what worse?” I asked, soon handing him my canteen if he wanted some water too.
He took it without complaint, soon sighing after taking a few sips, “I’m afraid of bashing this thing up and crashing. And it would be even worse if you were on here and got hurt too.”
“Damien, you deliberately crashed a Sioc into the back of this bike a few months ago,” I laughed, crossing my arms.
“That’s different,” he laughed softly with me, “I suppose I just want to impress you. Crashing isn’t very attractive, is it?”
“Well, don’t be reckless,” I teased, but then changed my tone, “The only thing that wouldn’t impress me is if you didn’t try. And as far as I know, Supervisory Agent Damein Rok would never deny a challenge like this. You’ll be fine. Unless you spent the last hour and a half of demonstrations focused on touching me and not what I was doing.”
“I paid attention, Doctor,” he assured me, soon sliding forward into the main seat with somewhat of a shaky confidence.
“Remember, two fingers on the clutch when you’re moving. It won’t take a lot of pressure to keep a consistent speed. Keep your groin as close as possible to the gas tank in front of you. Straddle that like a woman, alright? Engage your core, but remain loose everywhere else,” I encouraged, “Once you feel comfortable going in a straight line, practice turning in circles.”
“Okay,” he nodded with a nervous breath, slowly kicking up the stand before balancing it with his boots.
I had to admit, even I was a bit nervous for him. Damien Rok was a quick learner. He was intuitive and his greatest skill was picking up on the minor, small details that most might overlook. Intelligence work suited him, maybe even better than being a soldier. I returned to our gear by the Sioc, sifting through my bag before pulling out my camera. With the weather and a fine subject to act as a minor muse, why not take a few shots?
And also, Damien did look good in motorcycle gear, even if it was just scraps of his armor and helmet with a leather jacket on top of it.
He eased the engine into a steady purr before the wheels carried him forward. It swayed slightly due to his balance, but he was quick to get the hang of it. Within a minute I could see his demeanor and body language relax, eventually going forward over two hundred yards before turning at an obtuse angle to slowly make his way back.
Three years ago, I didn’t think I’d be here. I didn’t think I would be leading a scientific team on an unknown colony filled with assholes and biological aliens. I didn’t think I’d be out here in the midst of a beautiful dark storm, the sound of thunder drowning out the beloved sound of a motorcycle engine whirring. Most of all, with someone who seemed…
I couldn’t put one word to him. He was still fairly enigmatic. He was still dangerous. He was broken, but wasn’t everyone? I think both of us had grown up not really given a chance, feeling trapped, our paths laid out before us before we could even divert from it. I spent my whole life studying the simple fact people weren’t perfect. I thought if I was, or rather strived to be, that would protect me.
I was wrong. Just as I found myself trying to be softer on Damien, I was trying to do the same for myself.
“How’s it looking, Jack?” Damien chimed in over comms, his voice light and happy. Seems like riding gave him a bit of a rush.
“You’re looking great,” I complimented, “Your turns aren’t smooth but you’ll get there.”
He laughed at that, “I’ll be doing figure eights in no time.”
There was his little cheeky confidence, but if it had gotten him this far and away from Sabbath, he could have all that false confidence he wanted. Sometimes we had to do whatever it took to protect ourselves, even if it turned us away from our morality. I understood that aspect of him now.
“Why don’t you try the brakes? Remember, the mechanics said they’re sensitive,” I pointed out, hearing him hum in agreement.
I could hear him increasing speed back to my position, the dust kicking up behind him as he sped faster and faster. Testing the brakes were always important when riding, they were the difference between life and death, not speed. But, he was going a little too fast than I would like. Who was I to demand him to slow down?
Still, it set up a nice action shot to take some photos.
Within several yards from me, his fingers left the clutch and reached for the brake. But perhaps he didn’t take my words for warning and pulled too hard. The bike lurched to the side as the tires lost some traction, throwing Damien forward and off the bike into the gray dust followed by several grunts and groans.
And I got an entire photo sequence of the entire mishap.
“What a fucking idiot…” I laughed, seeing the bike remain well intact and checked the recent photos of him completely falling off it. Yet when I looked up, he hadn’t moved.
“Damien? Are you alright?” I asked, not getting a response, “Fuck.”
I dropped the camera down, jogging over to him before picking up the pace as he laid face down in the ground. My heart raced, knowing he couldn’t be too hurt right? Hopefully it had just been his pride, but if he wasn’t moving, it was possible he knocked himself out cold. Yet when I got inches closer…
“Boo!” he laughed, scaring me immediately.
“Oh go fuck yourself!” I shouted, my boot attempting to kick playfully at his leg. Yet he had turned to get up as I did so, the tip of my boot slamming into his groin. He let out a yell of pain, and I withheld a slight ‘oops’ of amusement. I didn’t exactly mean to do that.
But he sort of deserved it.
“Ow,” he wheezed, his voice not as deep as it usually was before he began laughing, “I suppose I deserve that.”
“Damn right you did,” I laughed with him, extending my hand out to him. His fingers intertwined with mine before pulling me into the dirt alongside him. We laughed together, feeling a lightness around us despite the heavy storm beginning to darken the sky directly above us.
The laughter faded, but it didn’t disappear into a silence of awkwardness. It merely lingered like a sun would, despite being covered by clouds.
“Surprised you ran to me first instead of the bike,” Damien finally spoke, both of us laid on our backs, his hand resting on mine as we watched the atmosphere above us alter.
“The bike is fine, unlike you. You looked like some deceased, slumped over seal. I was worried you hit your head,” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s what helmets are for. Thought you would have learned that by now,” he teased.
“Not this again,” I scowled slightly, “But again, it’s all thanks to your exemplary driving. I told you the brakes were sensitive.”
He snickered softly, slowly rising to sit up but still turned to look at me, letting that helmet collapse into the armor, “I didn’t think it’d be that sensitive.”
The rain began to fall with a few droplets, already cooling the weather surrounding us. Thunder boomed louder, almost sending shockwaves on the surface but there was nothing terrifying about it. Thunder could always be terrifying at a young age, until you learn about the weather phenomenon it was.
A spark, heat igniting from a passionate strike of lightning creating an explosion of sound waves.
When the rain began to pour harder and the flashes of light blue lightning grew closer, a weird color for a planet like this, I eventually stopped looking up with admiration at the colony around me. It was then that I had noticed Damien had his eyes remaining on me the entire time.
“Oh fuck, the camera,” I scrambled to my feet. Damien was already quicker than me though, jogging ahead to immediately stash the camera in my bag. I’m sure a bit of water on it would be fine, but I didn’t want it to get swallowed up in the ground when this dirt would turn into mush.
Instead I went for the bike, lifting it off the side before pushing it towards the Sioc. Damien was already quick enough to open the backside, helping me push from the other side into the safe and warm utility vehicle.
“Ugh, thanks for grabbing that,” I thanked him, shaking the slight wetness in my hair before seeing him nod.
“Sure, just delete the photos of me getting knocked off the bike and I’ll call it even,” he smirked.
“Not happening,” I laughed, making sure the bike was secure before walking over to him, “I’ve got blackmail should you ever decide to cross me. Your Milithreat men will probably get a kick out of it.”
“I’m sure they would,” he laughed again. It was a sound I was really growing used to, “Fine, let’s call it even for kicking me.”
My arms crossed in front of him, but my eyes remained playful, “Oh but that was getting even with you scaring me.”
“Oh! So you were scared for me…?”
“I was worried. Not scared,” I clarified, but even then I knew he could see right through me. He approached me, cutting the very narrow space between us as his one hand gently fixed the wet strands of my hair, probably now flat compared to the waviness of yesterday due to the rain. I could see remnants of rain on his face, the droplets reflecting my own green eyes against his skin. I knew what he wanted. And worst of all, I wanted it too.
“Damien, we shouldn’t…” I whispered, although there was no conviction in the words.
“Why not?” he asked softly, not challenging me, but rather challenging the system District Five had seemingly thrown us into.
“It’s not right,” I clarified, “I’m supposed to hate you, you know.”
His finger trailed from my hair to my mask, and even though I couldn’t feel it across the thin metallic material, I could only imagine the soft calluses caressing the scars beneath it. I could feel my heart race once more, betraying my senses and my words. I was right. This wasn’t right. But fuck, it felt right. My own hand moved to his chest, but it wasn’t to stop him and push him away. It was just to feel the place where his heart might be. All I felt were cold droplets against cold thin armor, and that only made me want more. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, the hair between his pecs or down his stomach.
“Who says I don’t hate you?” he asked me, his eyes and demeanor betraying him this time, “I’d like to think I do.”
We should be magnets that repelled one another. Instead, all it took was the right angle, the moment after we had saved each other alone on this gods forsaken colony full of anathemas that it clicked. That repelling turned opposite, a force of attraction that couldn’t be stopped.
“I hate soldiers…you hate scientists…” I mumbled, feeling my limbs grow weak, the tingle between my legs spark as he stepped closer. My fingers moved from his chest to lower, at his waist before intertwining with his belt.
His own body was melting like this clay sand in the rain just as much as mine. I didn’t think I could ever have that effect on a man, especially if he held the same power over me. Our lips weren’t on each other. It was only our words and the small touches of the soft pads of our fingers that were making us shiver for each other. I loved the sensation of shivers down my spine that he gave me, lightning striking a metallic rod.
“I have this great feeling that you and I are not going to get along…” his words turned into a whisper, a copy of the same sentence he spoke to me so spitefully during that ‘interrogation’ of each other.
“On that, Agent Rok…” I whispered in return, slowly unbuckling his belt, “On that, we certainly agree.”