Shot Not Dead
“Look, it’s not that I think you’re stupid,” James told Grey flatly. “It’s that I think you’re an idiot.”
“You’re not afraid of me at all anymore, are you?” Grey observed form the safe distance of ‘across the table’ and secure in the knowledge that James could follow through with almost none of his threats and would face the wrath of his tiny, fearsome sister if he tried anyway. “That’s a shame. I work hard on the reputation, you know?”
“I’m gonna post video of you cussing out Mario Party. See if anyone takes you seriously after that!”
“I was high on pain meds!”
“You promised Kathryn that you loved her, and then blew us all up!”
“It was a video game and I underestimated the blast range! I’m much better with explosives in real life!”
James glared at him judgmentally and Grey had the courtesy to look as shamefaced as a six-foot-plus heavily-armed vigilante could. James glared harder, and Grey rolled his eyes and gave in. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I thought the media had figured out we’re not the same person after all those pictures of my kissing your sister with you in the background.”
Apparently they think I paid you to play the part for the night,” James told him, more annoyed than angry and moderately grumpy despite having not actually getting shot. Grey had, but Grey had some sort of healing factor and wasn’t that bothered by bullets. They both got covered in Grey’s blood, however, because someone thought it was a good idea to shoot at James, thinking he was Grey, and thought that the ‘shoot him in the face’ method would solve the vigilante problem. Grey ended up tackling him off the podium. James was both surprised and pleased that Grey was apparently proficient in tackling and hadn’t broken him on the way down. “Would getting shot in the face even kill you?”
“Maybe. I heal pretty fast.”
“Let’s go with ‘probably’ and not try it.”
“…Yeah fair. Getting shot isn’t great anyway. Shrapnel itches until I can get it out.”
Grey was the only person who viewed bullets as a vague discomfort and thought that shrapnel was about equivalent to a swarm of very hostile mosquitoes. James thought he was crazy, but also appreciated that his sister’s boyfriend was reasonably unlikely to actually die on her, given his extremely dangerous lifestyle. Of course, he also had the nasty habit of putting Kathryn in danger, which James liked much less.
Unfortunately, James liked Grey and approved of their relationship, damn it all, and that meant at least trying not to get Grey shot on a regular basis.
Also unfortunately, the extremely persistent rumor that they were the same person was cropping up again and causing problems.
They weren’t even close to the same height, had green eyes and blue eyes respectively, and were about a hundred pounds of serious muscle apart in build.
James thought he should probably be flattered that people thought he had Grey’s sort of build under his baggy sweaters. Of course, Grey should probably be offended. James had a reputation for being critically, fatally, clumsy.
He probably would have fallen off the podium on his own if Grey hadn’t tackled him. That had happened more than once.
The dangers of doing a lot of charity work and having a decidedly hostile relationship with stairs.
“Thanks for not letting me get shot,” he said at last, and limped over to the coffee pot that lived in the corner of his lab. Grey nodded when he proffered it and he returned with two mugs. Grey took his black, because of course he did. James was not an emo vigilante and stirred a healthy spoonful of sugar into his own. “I know bullets aren’t a big deal for you, but they are for me. So I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” Grey said, seeming surprised to be thanked at all. Then again, his rocky relationship with the press and the cops suggested that appreciation was kind of rare for him. “Hey, you know that thing you’re working on for us? That compound?”
Right. The ‘project’ that Grey had in mind. ‘Project’ being a euphemism for ‘lots and lots of murder, but mostly only really really bad people’ and which involved a significantly fortified compound full of the serious kind of mobsters. James’ job was to figure out a way to hijack or kill the security for the place, and it was taking a while. Fortunately, Grey was willing to be patient about it.
“Yes?” James said cautiously and passed Grey’s coffee over. “I’m still working on it. What about it?”
“I was thinking about bringing in some help,” Grey admitted, uncomfortable in a way that meant he was probably having emotions. “Wanted to run it past you before I called them.”
“You talk to Kathryn too?”
“She said it was your call. Something about you being better with people and having the sense to veto anyone who will be a problem.”
James loved his baby sister. He was going to have to track down those heels she had been considering all week. Kathryn adored ridiculous shoes and secretly loved getting ‘just because’ presents.
“Who are these people?” James asked when Grey pulled his shirt back on, the bullet holes in his shoulder finally closed enough to take the motion. “Vigilantes?”
“Something like,” Grey told him, and dropped onto the stool across the table form James, before proffering a folder. “I need backup, and they’re the best there is. But they’re… well, read the file.”
Well, that was promising in the ‘probably going to be a problem’ sort of way. James eyed Grey, and flipped open the folder.
By the time he finished reading the names at the top of the page, the blood had drained from his face.
Before he was halfway through the page, his hands were shaking so badly that he had to put the folder down to steady himself.
“Shatter,” he said after a slow, careful breath. “And Ghostmaker.”
“That’s right.”
“They’re the most notorious villains on the west coast.”
“They’re friends, sort of. I did them a favor. If I call them, they’ll come.”
James did not want to know what kind of favor Grey did for the two ridiculously scary villains.
“Okay,” he said after a couple more breaths. “Walk me through what could possibly be bad enough to need that kind of firepower, and we’ll go from there.”
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In the City:
James is not the vigilante, but his sister knows who is.
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