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Att was grateful for the soft warning of the heroâs approach as it pulled him out of his thoughts. He gave Dhani an awkward smile, then mentally chastised himself for doing so. Lucy had warned him about Dhani, told him to just cut the hero off. Atticus hadnât been able to do that. He told himself it was just because they were working together at the minute, they needed to be able to do that much. But there was a tiny part of him that just didnât want to.
When Dhani leaned in, there was a moment when Att swore his heart skipped a beat, but then Dhaniâs comment made him roll his eyes. Anyone else might have received a scowl. Dhani just received a raised eyebrow. âRed Witch told me I needed to âdress normally.â She figured a guy in a suit would be more memorable and draw more attention. And apparently, âteenage hoodlumâ was a better and more inconspicuous look,â he said quietly in reply. God, he really hated it. âAnd ready as Iâll ever be, I guess.â
Picking the lock was easy, almost too easy, and it put Atticus on edge as he stepped inside, expecting a security alarm to start blaring the minute he stepped through the door. But it was silent, and it did nothing to comfort him. He wasnât sure if the feeling in his gut was just anxiety or his precognition kicking in in the background, warning him of some vague danger. âLooks clear.â
Dhani did his best to hide the laughter threatening to bubble from his mouth. Really, Atticus looked just fine. A little out of his element, but fine. Dhani wasnât about to say that, though. Instead, he just shook his head. He needed to remind himself that this was a mission, and he needed to stay on his guard. Atticus didnât seem too confident, though, and that was a little worrying. He had to remind himself that everything was going to be fine. He could handle this. They would be fine.
Atticus got the door open quickly enough, and heâd stepped inside before Dhani could offer to go in first. Dhani was inside as soon as Atticus confirmed it was clear. He glanced around quickly, there was a little bit of ground to cover. Something in his gut wanted Atticus to stay close, and he wasnât sure if that was because something about this felt off, or because⊠No, this seemed too easy. Dhani glanced at Atticus out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to determine how he was feeling.
Dhani didnât want Atticus to feel like he was being babysat, but he also didnât want to assume that Atticus was comfortable with the situation. But there were multiple rooms to search through, and Dhani didnât want to spend more time on this than they had to. He sighed, âLetâs get started.â
Att was a little glad when they got inside and Dhani didnât immediately suggest splitting up. Heâd never done anything like this. His family had always had people lower down the food chain to do the dirty work. Whenever he had to⊠deal with somebody, he was always in a position where he had the upper hand, where he was entirely in control of the situation. Here, he had no control, and there wasnât a goddamn thing he could do to change that.
He found himself glancing towards Dhani to try and read him, to see his read of the situation. Dhani seemed⊠prepared. On edge but not in the same way Att was. He seemed confident. And that reassured Atticus a little.
âWe should stick together,â he said as Dhani said they should get started. âI mean. We have no idea what weâre walking in to, and weâre more vulnerable alone.â He tried the first door and found it locked, and threw a grin back at Dhani. âAnd I have the lockpicks.â He said with a smirk as he unlocked the door again. Inside were stacks and stacks of nondescript cardboard boxes. Nothing that immediately flagged up anything suspicious. Att drew his knife and cut the tape sealing one.
âNothing here. Boxes of office supplies, by the looks of it. Should we try door number two?â Att asked.
When Atticus suggested they stick together, Dhani nodded. He would be lying if he said that didnât somehow feel relieving. Atticus tried a door and, well, of course it was locked. But the smile Attcus shot at Dhani pulled all the air out of Dhaniâs lungs. For a moment all Dhani could think about was how his sister couldnât be convinced that the reason Dhani couldnât go to dinner with her was that he had a date. Wait. No. What the hell is the matter with me? Well, he had a few ideas, but nothing he could linger on. This was neither the time or place for that.
The room before them just held stacks of boxes. It would be impossible to look through them all, and most of them looked factory sealed, anyway. Still, he looked into the box Atticus had opened. Nothing interesting, âYeah, searching in here any more would probably be a waste of time.â
The next few rooms were equally useless. Chemical closet, a bathroom, more holiday decorations than belonged in one room, outdated office furniture. It seemed like a lot of this basement was used as storage, which made sense, but the longer they spent looking, the more on edge Dhani felt. The longer they were here, the more likely it felt that something was going to go terribly wrong.
When they came upon a room with some old filing cabinets, Dhani couldnât help but feel they were either going to be empty, or filled with nearly ancient documents that would be of no use to anyone, but he knew they needed to check anyway. âOkay,â He practically whispered, before raising the volume of his voice just a bit as he continued to speak, âHow about we each pick a side,â He vaguely pointed to the row of cabinets, not really caring where either of them started, âAnd we can work towards the middle?â
Room after room just seemed to be completely unremarkable, and Att wasnât sure if he was relieved by that or not. If there was nothing here, if the information theyâd gotten was wrong, then it would explain the lack of security. It was entirely possible this was a wild goose chase. But a room filled with filing cabinets presented slightly more of an opportunity. Att nodded at Dhaniâs plan. âSounds good. Iâll take this side,â he said, keeping his voice little more than a whisper. The first filing cabinet was, as expected, worthless. Nothing of use. Nothing that even gave them important information on who they were dealing with. The second and third cabinets were the same. Old resumes, notes from meetings, company circulars. Nothing useful. Or at least, that was what he thought until the last drawer of the bottom cabinet was locked. The lock was new, recently used, and slightly harder for Att to crack. But he managed, and got it open. At first, it was just financial statements.
Then as he sorted through them, one folder caught his attention. Nondescript, easy to miss or just flick past. But a name on it caught his attention. Vulcan. One of the heroes that had recently been found dead. Sure enough, inside the folder was information on the hero. His civilian identity, his powers, his weaknesses⊠his secrets. âDhani, Iâve got some-â He stopped as he looked over at the hero. Or, rather, at the huge, humanoid shadow lurking behind him, a glint of something metallic and dangerous in itâs hand. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. The glint became a knife.
Att didnât think. He didnât have to think, and that was the terrifying thing. He had the trigger pulled almost before it had even processed that heâd drawn the gun. A neat headshot, a wound somebody would have no chance of surviving, just the way heâd been taught. The man fell, the knife clattering against the ground, the sound a contrast to the soft thump of a body hitting the floor.
He knew he needed to say something, wanted to say something. But what the hell did he say? He wasnât sure he could vocalise anything. His head was spinning a little as he just shoved the gun back into its holster, flicking through the drawer at speed to try and find files. âWe need to get out of here, Iâm guessing his friends will be along at any minute,â he managed to force out. The shaking in his hands only seemed to worsen as he found familiar names. Red Witch. Aboleth. Paladin. Icarus. âJust check for locked drawers, and just⊠fucking break them open or something,â he said, his voice cracking a little.
These filing cabinets seemed to be another bust; full of old notes, records of long-terminated employees, and other details that threatened to bore Dhani half to death. He thought about calling it, moving on, but then Atticus said his name. He turned to look in that direction, and confusion filled his face as Atticus drew a gun. Dhani was looking over his shoulder as Atticus shot, and the would-be assailant hit the floor. All before Dhani even fully realized what was happening. He turned to look back at Atticus. What was the appropriate thing to say in this situation? Thank you?
âAre you-â Atticus started speaking, and Dhani knew he was right. They would very likely be swarmed in a matter of minutes. âOkay.â Atticus said to check for locked drawers, and thatâs exactly what Dhani did. He suddenly wasnât very worried about making noise, and when he found a locked drawer, he just pulled the one above it out and tossed it aside so he could get to the files inside. He recognized every name he came across. Side effect of being at this for so long. He couldnât dwell on it. He could let the sadness, fear and anger fester in his stomach later, he didnât have time for that now.
Dhani heard footsteps down the corridor, they werenât worried about being quiet anymore, either. They still had a few drawers to check, and Dhani wanted to be sure they found all the files. âFinish searching the drawers,â He didnât look at Atticus while he spoke, instead he focused on stacking what heâd found in the space between them, âI can maybe buy you a few minutes, but you need to move fast.â He had no idea how many people there were, or what sort of weaponry they might have, but it wouldnât be the first fight heâd run into blind. With any luck, it wouldnât be the last.
He shut the door behind him when he left the room; every second mattered in these situations, and he would do every little thing he could do to help Atticus.
Normally, he would have wanted to try to get a head count so he could get a grasp on what was going on, but the first guy he saw was reaching for something. A weapon. Gun? Knife? It didnât matter, Dhaniâs best shot was getting to him before he had the chance to use it. He broke out into a sprint, dropping his shoulder and colliding with the man. He heard a gunshot go off behind him as they both hit the floor, and was faintly aware of the gun clattering out of the manâs hand. There was a quick struggle, but ultimately Dhani knew he couldnât waste too much time on one guy. That was a surefire way to get your ass kicked.
When Dhani had become a hero, he never thought heâd be the kind of guy that actually liked the fighting. But he did. It made him feel alive. Like he was real. A well-placed punch and Dhaniâs would-be assailant was out cold. As he started to stand, what would have been a blow right to the back of his head hit his upper back instead. He spun around, connecting his elbow to the manâs jaw and watched him hit the ground.
They both became much more careless, throwing the useless files to the floor and throwing the files they were after into the space between them. There were just too many of them and that was making Atticus feel almost nauseous about how many people were subject to this. But they didnât have time to focus on that. He didnât stop as Dhani told him to finish searching, but he did shoot a look at the hero. âDhani, donât-â he started, but he was gone, the door shut between them. Att swallowed and stayed searching. He was torn between wanting to help and that haunting image of the body on the ground only feet away from him, the pool of blood surrounding him. He knew that he couldnât afford to hesitate if it came down to it, and he didnât want to do that to Dhani if he froze up. So he gathered as many files as he could, double checking drawers heâd already checked to make sure there was nothing there. A battered but intact bag was abandoned on the floor, and Atticus shoved as many of them as he could into it, slinging the bag onto his shoulder. And then he took a deep breath and pulled open the door, just in time to see Dhani drive an elbow into a manâs face.
âLetâs go,â he yelled, grabbing Dhaniâs arm and pulling him down the corridor. But at the sight of more men coming towards them, Atticus knew he wasnât getting out of there without firing a few more rounds. He shoved down the sickening feeling in his stomach and drew the gun again. The men facing them down already had their guns drawn. They clearly werenât normal security guards. These were the most dangerous kind of people, the shoot first, ask later type, and Att knew there was no way in hell they were going to be talked down. There was only one way they were going down.
Att aimed and fired. Two shots, a shot to the thigh each. One of them dropped his gun in pain and shock, the other shot at them but apparently decided at the last moment that Att was the bigger target now he had the files. The delayed decision didnât give Att time to react and the bullet hit him square in the shoulder. Not his shooting arm. It was fine. Keep shooting, donât think too much, donât think about it. Shot to the stomach, enough to take him down. The pattern seemed to keep recurring until they finally made it out. Att only stopped to wipe down the gun and throw it in the first trash can they passed. It was disposal of evidence and the fact that he couldnât bear the feeling of it in his hand any more.
One moment, Dhani and Atticus were running through the halls, the next moment Atticus was shooting. Was shot. Dhani didnât have the luxury of reacting in the moment, heâd have to save it for later. Staying calm was sometimes the only thing that stopped a whole operation from falling apart. They didnât slow down much, even once theyâd gotten out of the building. They needed to get as far from there as they could. When they briefly paused so Atticus could get rid of his gun, Dhani couldnât keep a bit of concern off his face. It was a little while before he could believe they werenât being followed, and a short while longer before he spoke up, âI donât think weâre being followed.â Not like it mattered, they knew everything about them anyway.
He pulled Atticus away, out of view from prying eyes, âLet me see your shoulder.â That was maybe a little too forceful, so he added, âPlease,â though he didnât intend on letting Atticus say no. Atticus had gotten hurt, and as a hero whoâd built his entire career on protecting people, Dhani felt like heâd failed. At least he could heal him up, it was the least he could do, really.
It wasnât long before Dhani was staring straight at Attâs shoulder, brows knit together in concentration. He placed a gentle hand on the wound, softly saying âSorry,â before Atticus even had a chance to complain. He could feel the gentle warmth of his powers extending past his hand to Atticus, and he knew that this would take a touch longer than healing some scraped up knuckles. âIâm not much of a careful planner,â He said, almost as if to cut the silence, like he could bear to heal Atticus without some sort of noise to comfort him, âIf not for you, Iâm sure that would have ended much worse than it did.â He cleared his throat, âSo, thank you.â
Att wasnât even sure where they were going, only that they needed to stay moving. He barely even heard Dhani say they werenât being followed, the words only registering as Dhani pulled him out of sight. It was only then that everything seemed to come crashing back down as the adrenaline started to fade. He dropped the bag almost unconsciously, the pain in his shoulder starting to kick back in. The force behind Dhaniâs request surprised Att, but even before the hero said please, Att knew it was out of care. Goddammit, of course heâd ended up with one of the good ones. So many heroes were cocky and overconfident and easy to dislike. But no matter what Lucy told him, Att couldnât hate Dhani. He trusted him. And there was a tiny part of his brain that told him that was dangerous. But as Att managed to pull back his jacket to give Dhani better access to the wound, he realised he didnât care.
Warmth flowed into the wound from Dhaniâs hand, already taking an edge of the pain. Att sighed a little, almost unconsciously. The warmth was soothing, the physical contact oddly grounding. Dhaniâs words surprised him a little. Att smiled a little and shook his head. âIâm sure you would have managed just fine,â he said. âAll I did was fire a few shots.â The echoes of every shot fired, of the too still bodies, of the blood, they seemed to be haunting him more than the fading pain in his shoulder. He knew he probably wouldnât have done anything else to stop them. If he hadnât taken them down, they could have done much worse damage to Att or Dhani. But heâd wanted to leave all this behind. Heâd wanted to walk away from it, and instead heâd walked into all of this.
âThank you,â he said quietly to Dhani. âYou didnât have to do this, I donât think anyone would have blamed you. But you did so⊠thank you. And Iâm sorry I hesitated. I probably could have taken them down quicker but⊠yeah. Thank you.â
Atticus thanking him for the healing was almost too much for Dhani, he wasnât doing it out of some sort of altruism (at least, not in his mind), he just genuinely wouldnât be able to live with himself if Atticus walked away from this with a gunshot wound. Of course he had to do this; it would haunt him if he didnât. Every death, hero or villain, felt so intensely personal. It didnât matter how you felt about a person when they were being hunted down on the merits of having powers and daring to use them. This was different, and Dhani knew that, but it was all blurring together in his mind. Heâd never once questioned his choice to be a hero, even if it had never been much more than a teenage impulse.
But here he was, healing a wound in Atticusâ shoulder, wondering for the first time if this was really worth it. If someone asked Dhani who Atticus was to him, he wouldnât know what to tell them. But he knew that he didnât like hearing Att apologize for hesitating to shoot someone. He couldnât help but wonder what kind of life Atticus had lived that he felt the need to apologize for that. âI try not to nitpick the people who save my life.â Dhani looked Att in the eyes as if he were searching for some deep secret, âYou did fine. Donât ever apologize for being human. Whatever mistakes you think you made, weâre both alive.â He knew the words were just words, and they probably wouldnât help. They never helped him, anyway.
Really, he was just glad neither of them were more seriously hurt.
The healing was finished, but Dhani couldnât bring himself to move his hand; the physical contact was soothing. He may have been healing Atticusâ body, but he felt like he was healing his own soul in the process, too. It was perhaps a touch dramatic, but it was always easier to forgive his mistakes when he could so tangibly make amends for them. âAre you gonna be okay?â
Dhaniâs words were words that Att wasnât sure heâd ever heard from anyone before. Everyone seemed to expect perfection from him, expected him to be the perfect villain, the perfect assassin. So to hear someone saying he didnât have to apologise for being human⊠he had to look away from Dhani for a moment to gather himself. Att could feel the heat fading in his shoulder, the pain all but gone, but Dhaniâs hand stayed there as the hero asked if Att was going to be okay. There was a moment, a thought that persisted a little too long, where Att was tempted to do something that was probably reckless and stupid. But instead, he just forced a smile and nodded.
âYeah. Iâll be fine. I, uh⊠Text me when you get home?â He asked, almost without thinking. âIâll bring the files, have a look through them later, see what I can get from them,â he said in recovery, picking the bag back up. He didnât want to walk away. His feet seemed rooted to the spot. âIâll see you soon, I guess,â he said. âAnd⊠seriously, thank you.â His body finally seemed to comply as he turned away from Dhani and walked away.
Dhani smiled softly when Atticus tried to assure him that he would be fine. He wasnât so sure he bought it, but he wasnât about to pry. Att asked him to text him when he got home, and Dhani nodded in response to that. He would, for sure. He would be texting his sister, anyway. Maybe heâd tell her his date well. When Atticus said heâd take the files, Dhani nodded, âOkay, let me know what you find.â Neither of them seemed to want to leave, and Dhani thought about asking Atticus to come with him, but instead he said, âYeah,â The next meeting would be coming up, and who knows where they would go from there. Dhani wasnât sure he cared so much about the content of any meeting as much as the people that were there.
When Atticus thanked him again, Dhani shook his head, âItâs no problem.â He wanted to tell Atticus that he would never leave him in pain, and that seeing him hurt was the worst part of his evening, but instead he watched Atticus walk away. He checked his phone, Kieranâs mission had gone well, and she was okay. At least someoneâs night had gone as planned. He realized then that he was tired. With a sigh, Dhani turned around and started towards home.