11 June 2020
Scottish highland evening lacked everything that gave Alex a headache: street lights, the hum of traffic and loud, drunken people that weren't him to name but a few.
Normally he'd prefer it over anything and everything else, but this time it came with its own headaches, one of which was cursing quietly under his breath a few feet to his left, and the other was up ahead and playing the most fucking irritating game of hide-and-seek he'd experienced in years.
"Shit!" Something that sounded remarkably like a crunch-and-flail heralded Milos falling over his third branch in ten minutes; Alex bit back the urge to point out elves were supposed to be graceful, damnit. Not that anything like decency or respect for his partner held him back, no. It just made it a damn sight easier to catch the so-called Gillie Dhu if it was distracted with its own game of Hunt The Idiot.
Up ahead, a rustle on the edge of hearing caught his attention. Left, not too distant. Attracted by the scrawny elf whose bioweapon claws flashed as they caught the sparse, tree-shifting rays of golden sunset, no doubt.
Another rustle, a burst of violent movement. Milos let out a noise that was only part shriek. Impressive, Alex thought, sprinting towards the noise with syringe at the ready; he'd expected it to be a full-blooded scream of terror.
And hell, once he shoved past the undergrowth and crashed headlong into the scene, he wouldn't have blamed him for it. Whatever it was they'd thought the Gillie Dhu was, Alex knew it wasn't for it to be some skinny, pointy-eared, downright pretty kid with his teeth sunk firmly into Milos's bare arm. Milos let out another short shout, as much frustration as anything, and unsuccessfully tried to yank his arm free while his other hand, claws ready, hovered above the kid's shoulder.
Alex might bitch at him for not using his government-given defences when he ought, but this time — for once — Milos had a point. Five of them, in fact, all of which could slice through the Gillie Dhu's carotid in one simple movement.
"You're just gonna watch?"
Alex shoved the blunt end of the 'syringe' against the Gillie Dhu's neck and, before he could break free from Milos's arm, slammed the plunger home to dose the rabid bastard with its full load of anaesthetic.
To his immense relief, the Gillie Dhu dropped like a stone.
He could feel Milos's glare long before he turned to face him, and he only did that after he made sure the slender creature was still breathing and very definitely unconscious. "You took your time."
Alex couldn't help the smirk that spread across his lips. An angry Milos was just so much fun, and not as often an occurrence as it could be. "I thought I'd let you demonstrate your training."
Milos snorted. "Like hell you did."
He returned his attention to binding the Gillie Dhu's wrists behind his back. Whatever he was, it was a lot smaller and thinner than Alex had thought. HEL would have a field day with their newest acquisition, and so would Alex when it came to filing his report: the next time he saw the words 'likely harmless' in a preliminary report, he'd insert a photo of Milos's now-bleeding arm just to prove a point.
"If he's given me something—!"
"Then I'll cut your arm off myself." Satisfied the bonds would hold and the kid was out for the count and unlikely to wake on the trek back, he hefted him over his shoulder. The way Milos viewed the move with misgiving, he could tell his partner was again thinking of his transportation to HEL's headquarters, back when he was a normal dark elf totally unaware of the world he was now neck-deep in.
YOU ARE READING
Milos has been a lot of things: homeless, abused, a rent boy. He'd thought he'd found a home, but now he can add another title to the list: government genetic experiment. He should hate it. His irritatingly handsome partner is a lecherous psychopath...