by Abigail Roux
Brandt’s large hands closed around Remy’s neck and lifted the younger man’s limp
body clear off the couch. Gray stood at Thiago’s shoulder and gaped, and Thiago tried desperately to free himself from the loose restraints. Fuck! If Brandt could break through his ropes half-drugged and half conscious, then Thiago should be able to do it after three hours of working on them.
He was almost free when a flash of movement at his side produced a knife in
Gray’s hand. Thiago flinched, but Gray sliced through the ropes and freed him just before lunging forward and wrapping himself around Brandt’s neck and shoulders.
Thiago followed suit, and together they managed to force Brandt into releasing
Remy’s body. Remy fell back limply against the couch, and Brandt stood there
furiously trying to rid himself of the two men. Thiago wasn’t certain he and Gray could hold the enraged man, and he was even more uncertain of why in the world
Brandt was trying to kill Remy. Had the man finally cracked for good?
“Calm down, Wally!” Thiago heard Carl yelling. He wondered if it would be
worth letting go long enough to untie Carl. Carl was a big guy, and he and Brandt had an understanding. Carl could get him under control. If not, Carl could at least kill him creatively.
Brandt roared angrily and flailed, and Thiago was thrown to the floor with a
thud and rolled. Gray somehow managed to hang on, but he wasn’t able to keep
Brandt from wrapping his hands around Remy’s throat once more, even though
Thiago could see him trying to squeeze the pressure points that should have dropped Brandt like a ton of bricks.
Thiago could see Remy struggling weakly, but he wasn’t nearly fighting for
his life like he should’ve been. Thiago prayed that the sedatives would wear off in time for Remy to come fully awake, but he didn’t think they would. They needed
help. Thiago crawled to Carl and swiftly cut his ropes with Gray’s discarded knife.
“Take him down, Carl,” Thiago gasped. He watched in fascinated horror as
Carl sprang forward and deftly separated the combatants. He quickly brought Brandt to the ground with a well-aimed jab to the kidney and a kick to the back of the knee.
Thiago was up and ready to attack by the time the two men hit the ground,
his mind going to thoughts of escape, but Gray was quicker and he stood calmly to the side with his gun in hand, waiting for someone to make a wrong move.
“He shot me!” Brandt roared from the floor. Carl practically laid on top of
him, and he wrapped an arm around Brandt’s neck, a leg around his waist, and rolled them both until he held Brandt’s body in his lap and restrained him with all four limbs. It probably wasn’t the most effective way of doing it, but Thiago suspected that
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Carl was going more for calming Brandt than stopping him.
“No one shot you, Wally,” Carl soothed with difficulty as Brandt struggled
against him. “That bastard over there slipped us something. Drugs, Wally. You ever been drugged? It fucks with your mind. Makes you dream and think you’re seeing
things that aren’t there.”
“He fucking shot me, Trigger! He shot me with one of those feather things!”
“Feather things?” Nikolaus muttered questioningly, and Thiago crouched
low, wondering which problem he needed to deal with first.
“Get him under control!” Gray ordered impatiently as he sidestepped toward
Thiago. “Don’t make a move, Thi, I have you pegged,” he added carefully.
“If I could fucking get him under control, I would have done!” Carl shouted
just before Brandt elbowed him in the ribs and shot forward toward Remy once more.
Gray’s gun trained on the big man, and Thiago knew he had to move. He
lunged as Gray’s finger tightened on the trigger, and the soft pop of the silencer sounded as Thiago’s body made contact with Gray’s and sent them both toppling to
the ground.
Thiago heard a pained howl and he knew someone had been shot. He
struggled with Gray while trying to figure out who it had been. Shawn was on the
ground, languishing where he’d fallen, and Thiago was pretty sure that the man was too low to have been hit. The rest of them were fair game, though.
“You bastard! You shot me!” Brandt yelled, drawing Thiago’s attention just
long enough to allow Gray to straddle him, pin him, and aim his gun at Carl.
“Goddammit!” Thiago growled in frustration as Gray’s other hand closed
around his throat.
“Behave yourself,” Gray panted. “Don’t move,” he added to Carl
commandingly, and Thiago saw Carl freeze as the weapon trained on him.
“Who’s been shot?” Thiago demanded.
Gray shook his head absently.
“Is Brandt shot?” Thiago persisted, hoping someone would answer him.
Gray’s hand tightened around his neck and Thiago gagged slightly. He could take a hint, and he stopped struggling.
Thiago’s air was slowly being cut off, and the spots were flying in front of
his eyes, when Gray was suddenly hit from the side and went tumbling off across the floor. Thiago scrambled to get up, his mind already racing to decide which of his companions to save first, but what he saw shocked him into immobility.
It hadn’t been Carl who had tackled Gray. It had been Nikolaus. And
Nikolaus was now beating the shit out of Gray, much like Brandt was doing to Remy.
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“Bad Dixie! No more sex for you!” Brandt yelled as he picked Remy up and
shook him.
Thiago fought back the insane urge to laugh.
IX.
CARL did laugh. He laughed at the entirely too ridiculous scene before him.
Brandt was shaking Remy and scolding him, threatening him with
abstinence if he ever shot him again.
Nikolaus was shaking Gray in much the same manner, threatening him with
far more unpleasant things if he moved. Who knew the kid could move like that?
Thiago was crouched next to them, watching in utter fascination, and Shawn
was wallowing on the floor moaning, because, in all likelihood, he had been
overdosed. Carl. Well, Carl was bleeding quite profusely from the bullet wound in his side.
That part wasn’t all that funny, come to think of it.
X.
SHAWN struggled to sit up, and when he did his world tilted and he fell back against the floor with a groan.
What the fuck was going on? There was fighting. And blood, he could smell
blood.
He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, but that merely made his
stomach roil violently and he slumped back to the ground.
What the fuck…?
XI.
“DON’T you move, you bastard, or Thiago’ll shoot you to shit,” Nikolaus growled as he pressed his knee further into Gray’s neck.
Thiago looked slightly startled by the assertion that he had a gun, but Gray
was duly convinced and he remained motionless.
Nikolaus looked up to see how many pieces Remy had been torn into. Brandt
was holding Remy to his chest and rocking him back and forth, and for a brief,
horrific moment Nikolaus thought Remy was dead.
But then he saw a weak flail of the Cajun’s arms, and Brandt rubbed Remy’s
head affectionately and set him down. Nikolaus was suddenly reminded of that
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cartoon with the big white abominable snowman. Or had he been blue? The one
where he picked up the bunny dude and
hugged him and rubbed him and loved on
him and called him George, all the while slowly squeezing the life out of him. Yeah, Brandt was the abominable snowman.
Apparently, whatever had bothered Brandt was no longer a problem. Remy
remained motionless on the ground, too drugged to do more than flail a little. Shawn remained motionless on the ground, too sick to move. Gray remained motionless
beneath Nikolaus, too smart to even blink.
Brandt crawled to where Carl knelt and pushed him gently onto his back.
Nikolaus watched in horror as Brandt pawed at Carl’s torso and brought his
bloody hand up to reach out for the pillow Thiago handed him. That was a lot of
blood. Fuck. Nikolaus really didn’t like blood.
XII.
“GUT shot, Trigger?” Brandt asked shakily.
Carl shook his head. “Glanced off my ribs, I think,” he said in a pained
voice. “Fuck, but it’s bleeding, isn’t it?” he asked with a little laugh. “Always was a bleeder.”
Brandt nodded distractedly and pressed the pillow down hard.
Carl grimaced, but didn’t cry out. “You didn’t kill Dixie, did you?” he asked
tightly.
“No. I won’t kill him ’til he wakes up completely.”
“Good. Can’t have everyone down at once,” Carl responded distantly, and
Brandt looked up at Thiago in concern.
An hour later, Gray Kincaid was tied securely to a dining chair, Shawn was
resting his aching head on the table, Remy was slumped groggily in the chair beside him, and Carl was stretched out on the couch asleep.
Brandt, Thiago, and Nikolaus surveyed the damage together.
“Bastard,” Brandt spat as he prowled past Gray. “You shot my Trigger,” he
growled menacingly.
Gray looked at him uneasily, but said nothing. His silence angered Brandt
even further, and if Thiago hadn’t stepped in front of him Brandt would simply have annihilated the man right then and there.
“Shawn,” Thiago barked commandingly. “Snap the fuck out of it. We need
guidance, goddammit!”
“What’s wrong with your brain, Zed? Aren’t you our guidance system?”
Shawn mumbled without raising his head.
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Thiago’s eyes narrowed, but he looked at Brandt appraisingly.
“Remy shot you?” Thiago asked carefully.
Brandt nodded and looked at Remy fondly. He couldn’t really hate the man.
It had been a fine piece of subterfuge. He also felt sorry for Remy. Even a blind man could tell he’d been forced into this. Hell, even Brandt could tell that! All they had to do was wait for Remy to come around enough to give them an explanation.
“I’m sorry,” Remy mumbled as he looked up at them pitifully.
Shawn’s hand shot out and gripped Remy’s throat. Remy gurgled and held
onto Shawn’s wrist helplessly as Shawn raised his head and turned it slowly to glare at the younger man. Brandt watched in fascination, and he couldn’t help but be a little turned on by the anger in Shawn’s eyes.
“You’re sorry?” Shawn asked calmly.
Remy’s brown eyes widened theatrically. “Beignet, please.”
“Please, Remy? Please? Do you have any fucking idea how much I fucking
hate being drugged?” Shawn roared as he stood up and brought Remy up with him by
his throat. “It was you! You sniveling little backstabbing traitor! All this time they’ve been a step ahead and it was you!”
“No!” Remy protested weakly.
Brandt took a step forward, as did Thiago. This was about to get ugly.
“Why, Remy? Hmm? What could they have possibly used on you to make
you turn? What in God’s name could have been so fucking important for you to give up everything?”
Brandt took another step forward as Remy’s eyes glistened and he looked at
Shawn miserably. He wasn’t even trying to get free, he was simply dangling from
Shawn’s hand.
“You,” Remy answered weakly. “They used you.”
XIII.
REMY watched Shawn’s face contort into a mask of pain, but then all emotion
drained from the beloved features and Remy stared into the clear green eyes of a
stone cold killer.
“I’m sorry, Shawn,” was all he could think to say. “Please.”
“Quit whingeing,” Shawn snarled in disgust, and his fingers tightened
around Remy’s throat. Remy could easily have gotten loose, but he didn’t want to.
This was poetic justice. Let Shawn kill him for all he had done. It would serve him right. “I trusted you with my life. For five years, you were the only thing I knew!”
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“I’d never let anything happen to you,” Remy protested in a hoarse voice.
“That’s why I did this! I love you, Shawn! I–”
“Shut it!” Shawn snapped, disregarding Remy’s declaration as if he had just
said the sky was green or that Brandt was sane. “We won’t take any more excuses.
You turned on us. You lied to us. Was it John? Or was it earlier? Hmm? Was it you let this bastard in here?” he asked, gesturing toward Gray. “Were you the one set the bomb back at the cabin?”
“No! Shawn, please!” Remy repeated desperately. He had to make Shawn
understand. He’d done this to get them out. Shawn was marked for death on that
fucking list and this had been Remy’s only chance to save him. He had to let him
know.
“Brandt!” Shawn barked commandingly, all traces of the overdose gone. All
traces of Shawn were gone, too. This was a different man than the one Remy had
known. This was a vengeful, angry, betrayed man, and Remy didn’t think he would
be getting out of this. Brandt shuffled over warily and Remy looked at the big man beseechingly. “Gag our young friend,” Shawn ordered, and Brandt looked at them
both uncertainly.
“Not so sure about that, Beignet,” Brandt said softly
“No worries. We’ll put the two of them in the back bedroom,” Shawn said
quietly. “The one with no windows. Then we’ll decide what to do with them and go
from there. I’m just sick of his fucking voice.”
Remy rolled his eyes to look at the other men, but he saw only sadness and
uncertainty on their faces. Carl was standing and walking toward them gingerly.
Thank God he wasn’t hurt badly. Nikolaus looked angry and betrayed. Thiago looked confused and a little lost for words. Brandt’s eyes darted back and forth between Shawn and Remy, but he finally turned on his heel and went to retrieve a length of cloth.
So this was it, then. This was the end. Remy’s heart broke as Brandt forced
the gag into his mouth, and the glint in Shawn’s eyes as Brandt and Thiago took hold of him and led him away was something Remy would remember until his dying day.
He hoped he didn’t have to carry it with him for long.
XIV.
THE Archer sat at the table staring at the other four men and waiting for his chance to move.
Fucking Gray, he shouldn’t be here. The Archer had to get him out. And
Remy, too. Son of a bitch! Remy had been working for him all along and he hadn’t
even known it.
Fucking Gray! No more of this networking shit; from now on, he would do
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all the recruiting himself!
Fucking Gray! Fucking Remy! Never have underlings with initiative. It was
far too much fucking trouble!
The discussion finally began to wane, and th
e Archer stood, stretched, and
announced he was going to check on the ‘prisoners’ before heading for bed. He got disinterested nods and exhausted yawns in answer, and he walked casually to the back bedroom.
He let himself through the door and closed it softly, locking it behind him.
He didn’t turn on the light, but simply stood in the darkness until his eyes adjusted enough to see Remy and Gray, both naked, gagged and attached to the furniture with rope.
Remy didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch as the Archer walked toward the
bed he was laid out on.
“Is he still drugged?” the Archer asked softly.
“I think he’s heartbroken, actually,” Gray said softly through the gag from
the chair he was bound to.
“Gag doesn’t do much good there, does it?” the Archer asked caustically.
Gray shook his head shamelessly and continued working on the ropes that
bound his wrists.
“Hey,” Remy said weakly from the bed.
The Archer looked at him closely. He was still drugged; he looked
completely out of it. That or he was faking. He could very well be faking, trying to escape. Remy didn’t know they were still on the same side yet. “Have you come to
make me feel like shit, too?”
“Someone else was in here?” the Archer asked quickly, looking at Gray for
his answer.
Gray shook his head sadly.
“He was hallucinating before,” he said with difficulty through the gag. The
Archer took a step and lowered Gray’s gag to allow him to speak easier. “Said
something about pinecones and purple crayons and talked to someone named
Rougarou. He’s cracked,” Gray explained.
“Fuck me,” the Archer breathed in distress as he looked back at Remy.
“You don’t strike me as the type to bottom,” Remy slurred quietly.
“How’d he get his gag off?” the Archer asked, ignoring the comment for the
moment.
Gray shrugged in response. “He has special talents,” he answered carelessly.
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“They’re going to kill me,” Remy said softly. The Archer knelt on the bed