Cym nodded. “Sterling. He’s… just a kid.” His eyes were pleading, but one of his pupils was twice the size of the other, and looking at it didn’t put Fourteen in a forgiving mood. “Please.”
“He’s the only one, Cym. Anyone else who attacks us, I will kill. Understand?”
Cym’s nod was so weak Fourteen nearly missed it.
Fourteen strode over to the woman, now missing a portion of her arm, to eliminate the threat she presented, but when he got there, a blinding white hole opened in the wall, and she toppled inside. Before he could do anything, it was gone. Fourteen turned around to see that Cym’s brother was gone too.
Fucking hell.
Walking back to Cym, he heard footsteps on the stairs. The echoing sound of police walkie-talkies let him know his time was up. Fourteen braced himself for contact with Cym and gritted his teeth as waves of sensation poured through him. It was nothing like the skin-on-skin contact from before, but it was enough to have him on his knees panting by the time it subsided enough for him to function.
Once he was able to adjust to the random flashes of his childhood, both savory and horrible, he was filled with something he could only describe as pure beauty radiating from the young man before him. As gently as possible, he scooped up Cym’s barely conscious form and hurried to the other side of the hallway, hoping that, like many large buildings, this one had a set of emergency stairs on both sides. He was in luck but had to kick the door open to break the lock.
Fourteen had to fight the softness and sense of safety flooding through his system from touching Cym.
He couldn’t get caught up in it now. He had to get them out of there, so he stuffed the effect down ruthlessly, but it continued to call to him, beckoning him to stand down. To stop forcing himself to push past his limits and be the perfect soldier.
Fourteen made himself focus on the job at hand and raced down the stairs with his precious burden.
There was a good chance police would be coming up this set too, so he ran down two flights of stairs and crossed the hallway. He listened at the door to the other stairwell and waited for the sound of footsteps to fade before carrying Cym down the stairs and out of the building.
Fourteen made it to the chaotic mess outside and managed to blend in by telling anyone who asked if he needed help that he was taking his little brother to the hospital by car. Cym helped just by existing. Most of the time, when someone got close to him, they stopped trying to be helpful and were more than happy to be told their services were not required.
The most interesting of these occurrences was when a tall, thin woman in a violently yellow pantsuit walked up to them with a look of sympathy on her face. Once she got within two meters of them, she stopped in her tracks, sneered, and stormed away.
Fourteen glanced at the small bundle in his arms as he left the crowd behind and saw that Cym’s eyes had drifted shut sometime during their journey down the stairs. He would require medical attention as soon as Fourteen managed their extraction.
The adrenalin Fourteen had gained from Cym’s disappearance was abandoning him, leaving shaking muscles and sickness in its wake, but it wasn’t the time to fall prey to exhaustion. Not yet. He had more to do before he could rest and recharge.
Fourteen would get them to the safe house where he could assess Cym’s condition properly and treat him accordingly. After he had Cym stabilized, they would need to have a debriefing session and decide what their objective was.
Fourteen already knew what his recommendation would be—complete neutralization of Cym’s family. It would be a challenge, but if he could find a way to help Cym harness the power inside him, he would be unstoppable. Any threat the young man’s family posed would be negligible in the face of what brewed inside him.
What The Company wouldn’t do to get their hands on someone like Cym. If he knew how to use his power, he could cause riots, and if he could pinpoint his power on a single person, he could even make other people angry enough to kill an intended target for them. He’d never need an extraction team if he could make everyone around him self-destruct from anger. First, he’d have to learn to control it and focus it away from himself, and then he would—
Reality smacked into Fourteen as he realized where his thoughts were taking him. Fourteen stopped in his tracks, leaving him and Cym standing exposed on the street. Without realizing it, his training had kicked in and begun consuming his mind. At some point, he’d stopped thinking of Cym as a person Fourteen owed an unpayable debt to and had begun to think of him as a weapon.
That wasn’t what Cym was. And with his newly returned memories, Fourteen didn’t think it was what he was either.
Not completely, at least.
Without thinking, he started moving again at a brisk walk. Their lack of cover had caused his conditioning to kick in and remind him that he was not his own master.
Fourteen grimaced but chose not to fight his conditioning. Instead, he allowed it to use him to search out a passable escape vehicle. As that part of his mind was occupied, he examined the part that had begun to classify Cym as a weapon. If he couldn’t get it under control, his charge would be better off left by the side of the road in case Fourteen was forced to bring him to the Colonel.
“Fourteen?” Cym’s voice was panicked. His eyes were open but unfocused, and he began to struggle.
“I’m here. You’re safe.” Fourteen kept his tone even, aiming for soothing. Instead, it sounded toneless. He’d never noticed that about himself before. He doubted anyone would be soothed by his voice. Most people ran from him.
But as soon as Fourteen spoke, Cym calmed, and his eyes locked onto Fourteen. “You came.” Everything about him broadcasted his innocence and a fragile, blooming trust in Fourteen. How could Fourteen violate that?
Fourteen would get his conditioning under control. “I came.”
“We’re safe?”
“You’re safe,” Fourteen repeated. He had to get himself under control—Cym needed him.
He sat Cym next to the car he planned on stealing. The Company could never find out about his small charge, Fourteen decided. Cym wasn’t meant for blood and death.
Through Cym, Fourteen had touched a level of peace he’d never known. Regardless of the side effect everyone else was experiencing, he knew Cym wasn’t a monster.
No, Fourteen would be the monster for him. The Company would not introduce Cym to killing, nor would his family kill him—Fourteen would see to that. And somehow, he would find a person who could help Cym control his powers. In Fourteen’s mind, he owed Cym that much at the very least. Fourteen would make sure Cym was safe. Only then would he pay a visit to the Colonel for their unfinished business.
Fourteen opened the door lock with a length of wire from his bag—older-model Nissans were a gift to anyone needing a quick getaway. Once inside, he tucked Cym into the backseat. His charge reached out to touch Fourteen’s face, but before Cym reached him, he caught the small hand in his gloved one and patted it. As good as it felt to touch Cym, he couldn’t afford the full force of his powers right now. Later, however…
Fuck. Fourteen needed Cym just as much as Cym needed him.
The realization had him reeling, but it didn’t have time to gain momentum. It got pushed to the back of his mind when he saw a teenage girl fall from her bike only meters away. Her boneless body hitting the pavement cranked Fourteen’s conditioning into overdrive and he threw himself into the driver’s seat.
Within seconds, he managed to hotwire the engine to life. As he peeled away from the curb, he noticed that it wasn’t an isolated event. Dozens of people were sprawled out on the sidewalk. He saw cars drift to a stop, their drivers yawning and putting their heads down on steering wheels. For a moment, he feared he would have to abandon the car due to traffic, but once he made it around the corner, life continued as usual.
If it was an attack, it was less violent than Cym’s family was prone to so far, but Fourteen didn’t question it. Instead, he drove as fast as he could.
Chapter 7Marshall
It wasn’t uncommon for Marshall to get called in on a second case while he was investigating a lead. It was, however, unusual to get the request before he had finished unpacking.
