PURSUIT

Chapter 9 - those who escape hell

"Those who escape hell, however, never talk about it, and nothing much bothers them after that." -- Charles Bukowski

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Danger may not have had many friends, but he did have informants, and reliable ones at that.  He and the other freelancers helped each other before they helped any side.  Honour among thieves, or something like that.  Sebastian, being a fellow freelancer, supplied Danger a good portion of his information.  Seb had even done him a favour and not hacked the US database for Syn on her insatiable quest for Danger-related data.  It had turned out though that she’d managed to get access by some other magical means.

Seb had sent Danger three pieces of information that, together, were enough to make his heart leap into his throat and his gut drop out the end of him.  Hades was on planned leave, Syn hadn’t shown up to work, and Hades’ license plate had been sighted at the local Alliance headquarters.

It was a trap.  Of course it was.  Danger was the only one who’d know what it all meant and where Syn was.  A lump of tears waited in his throat, burning, no matter how many times he told himself they had no purpose.  Who was he crying for?  Syn was gone and Daze wasn’t ever coming back.  That’s what he did to people.  He made the darkness swallow them up.  It was a trap, it was stupid, and Danger was already running.  He didn’t think he had any better chance of saving her than she had of saving herself, but at least he could make Hades pay.  And if not, well.  He had to pay for his crimes too, sooner or later.  To die defending his friends.  He could think of worse ways.

The buildings flew by underneath him.  He’d dropped his phone and started running as soon as he realised what had happened, not wasting a second’s hesitation.  It had meant he’d left his place wearing only his mask and Second Skin; bare feet, bare hands and no weapons.  Actually, ‘no weapons’ was an arguable point, technically his whole body was considered a weapon under law, and he’d have his weapons taken off him at the Alliance HQ anyway.  Danger’s reinforced muscles and tendons were coping with the extra impact shock absorption, but the bare soles of his feet were being cut up by rusted nails, broken glass and other pieces of rubbish on the rooves.  There was no time to step carefully or let the pain slow him.  Likewise with his hands, having to grip the sharp edges of tin roofing and even barbed wire wasn’t enough to be a disincentive.  To him, it was merely the cost of not being utterly useless.

Getting inside the Alliance HQ was simple.  None of the timid officeworkers or scientists dared question the freelancer or the bloody footprints he was leaving.  Being a part of the plan has just been so convenient, hadn’t it?  Gee, it was a wonder he’d managed to live with himself for so long.  Danger let his rage well up inside him, let it ossify into a hardened shell.  He’d need it for the onslaught he was going to bring to the bastard pretty-boy from Hell.

Having been alerted of Danger’s imminent arrival, Hades loaded a small handheld gas-powered tranquiliser gun.  “Loverboy’s coming to save you,” he teased Syn.  She’d been given a booster injection; it was just enough to keep her mind fuzzy, but not too incoherent.  Hades liked her sharp tongue.

“Loverboy doesn’t save people, he kills people.  And you’re gonna need more trank than that.”

“There’s enough in here to knock out a horse.”

Syn let out a slow, unimpressed ‘ha’.  “Like I said, you’re gonna need more.”

Danger paused in the doorway.  There was no bulky jacket or cargo pants to obscure the lethal curves of his silhouette.  Faint traces of blood were still present in his footsteps.  Hades weighed him up as he took aim - Danger was bigger, but only by a small margin - and fired.  The tranquiliser dart was too flimsy to penetrate Danger’s Second Skin and bounced off.  Syn snickered at the pathetic sound of it hitting the floor.  “Worth a shot,” Hades murmured before pulling his knife and mirroring Danger’s advance.