and all things will end.

Garrett [21.40]: sorry pal, can't. next time

Rowan [21.41]: 😭 working 2nite!!! cant!!! im sry!!! xoxo

   “Practical.”

   “I know their protocol. I know how their systems work. I know how their weapons work. I know the patrol network. I know places that are fronts for small bases of operations, and I know a handful of intelligence agents.” Kolton watched Garrett carefully, trying to gauge whether the older man was likely to give any ground. “I can help. Just give me a chance to prove it.”

   “Beyond the grand scheme, no.”

   “It’s the truth. I don’t even know if there was another Killjoy.”

   “I don’t know.”

   “The high risk informants are top secret. No one besides their supervisors and the higher ups knows who they are. We never even saw each other.”

   “Years ago, yeah. After the bombings I went into patrol work, in case my cover was blown, only assisting the Intelligence Department occasionally. A while after that Rowan and I were assigned to each other. You know the rest.”

   “The bombings. Right.”

   “No bullshit,” Kolton agreed, watching the ex-Killjoy approach and sit opposite him. He’d been waiting for this. Hoped it would ease some of the tension. Knew it wouldn’t. Bad enough had he been a stranger, but building up trust after years of deceit was a whole other problem, and one there was no other way to tackle but one day at a time.

     The door closed behind him with a click. He stopped in the doorway, eyes landing on Kolton, sat at the kitchen table watching him back with a blank expression.

Delilah Khatri​.

     Delilah had never experienced anything like it; the fastest she’d ever driven had been on her venture out to the desert on this very day, and now she was going even… faster? She couldn’t tell if she actually was; all there was was the booming roar of wind whooshing past her, the sensation of her shirt whipping against her side, the heat of the exhaust warming her calves. And the world. It zoomed past her, a blur and yet… more beautiful than anything she’d been able to view from the inside of her car, from the city. It surrounded her — completely — flashes of green leaves, sparks of pink flowers poking out from cacti, the subtle herbal scent of stirred earth mingling with muskier undertones that weren’t from the desert. 

     He was sturdy; a complete stranger and yet she was at ease, protected by a mountain of man, whose structure and control made her feel weightless. If she was going to die on this day, it wouldn’t be from him, and it wouldn’t be from this drive. Not with him around.       How can you be so certain? The question condensed in her stomach, forming a mass that planted her deeper in the seat. A criminal. A means to an end. You get the job done. You get out. Delilah never paid much attention to the drones that roamed Battery City’s skyline, and for a moment, she missed them, eagerly awaiting when she could return to the city limits and their protection. 

     Before she knew it, they’d arrived, tires grinding across gravel as they came to a stop and Garrett waited for Delilah to dismount, the brunette handing back the helmet blindly, browns surveying the outpost for any signs of a medical facility. Or rather, the closest thing they had to one. Unnecessary; a gruff looking man wearing a vest with nothing but inked skin underneath nearing the pair, his expression becoming more cordial when his gaze moved from Delilah to Garrett.       “She the one who’s giving Marge a new face?”       Delilah’s eyes narrowed, brow pinching with visible irritation, “If you mean Marge Duran, then yes, I am and I’m right here.”

     “You wouldn’t have sent for me if I wasn’t one of your only options to get the job done, so it’d be appreciated if I could be treated like the professional you so obviously need.” Her eyes widened, glancing past him toward the rest of the encampment.

     From the looks of it, Delilah didn’t need any help handling herself with the rebels — not that he’d planned to stay, either way, but it did ease his conscience a little, as well as knowing he’d been right about her and she was expected there. A smile played on his lips as he watched the man who’d approached them come up short for words, offering her an awkward nod and nothing else, clasping his wrist in front of him as he remained in place, waiting.

Delilah Khatri​.

     It wouldn’t be because of him and she supposed that’d have to be decent enough. What were her other options? Delilah had taken that first step into the unknown and there was no looking back — not unless she wanted to be personally introduced to her new boss’ consequences. Everyone there seemed happy, well-paid; and there was something else… the excitement of living a life under the radar? Of appearing just like everyone else? Wasn’t that why she’d been curious too? What’s out there?      Him. Garrett Uley. People just like him. People who were still people, no matter what the Government fed them. A person who had spared her life… this far. 

     Before any further conversation between them could continue, Garrett was on the radio relaying information about his — and her — current status. Delilah hadn’t been given many details about who she’d be working for and she had to wonder if this man was somehow involved; she had to wonder who she’d gotten herself involved with. Was she cutting her life short or opening up doors she didn’t even know existed?

     Any further questions that came to mind Delilah kept to herself, choosing to focus on the work ahead rather than the countless outcomes she wasn’t experienced enough to foresee. Not in this world. So she remained silent, walking at his side, listening to the soft crunch of his footsteps, the low, metal clunk of his harness shifting as he moved, until… a bike. She’d never ridden. 

     “Good thing I wasn’t banking on a nice hair day.” A senseless joke; cushion for the fear. Delilah Khatri, you will not die today.

     When they reached his bike, Garrett picked up the backpack he’d left against the side of a rock and carried it over, attaching it to the side — then straddled the bike, taking the helmet off the left handle and holding it out to her.

   “Get on. Stay on. I ain’t scrapin’ ya off the roadside halfway there.” Kicking up the stand, he started the engine, waiting until she climbed onto the back and circled her hands around his waist tightly before easing them across the terrain, back to the road. There, he picked up speed, the wind whipping his face mixing with the glare of the sun to make him squint, and the doctor was a tense presence behind him, rigid with nerves that eased off a little along with her grip when they’d gone for a while.

Delilah Khatri​.

     Again, he touched her. Again, a current; a delicate reverberation that tickled from her bicep to the tips of her fingers. She followed him, giving a final cautionary — and perhaps wistful — glance at her car before she was staring at the man’s back, at tanned colored fabric and a sheen of sweat that glazed his muscles. What are you doing, Delilah? We raised you better than this. Hiking through the desert with a wanted man. Her mother’s voice rang in her head, though, for some reason, instead of shame, it pulled at one corner of her mouth, a hint of amusement in the face of possible, well, death. 

     “Delilah.” She quickened her pace to catch up to his side, because trailing behind him made her feel like an incapable child, and just because she didn’t know how to murder a gang of desert bandits, Delilah knew she was far from incapable and certainly no child. “I’d ask yours but…” She peered up at him, that tiny hint of humor lingering, though she wasn’t sure whether it was genuine or from anxiety. “I’m pretty sure I recognize you.”      “I’m also pretty sure that if you’re planning on killing me at the end of this, I’m gonna remain clueless until I serve my purpose, right? So… if that’s the case, while I’m sure I have no room to make requests, make it quick?”

   “Well, since you’re pretty sure…” Garrett trailed off, refraining from a mutual introduction. Delilah went on, anyway, earning another quiet laugh; “If you don’t make it home tonight, it won’t be ‘cause’a me.”

Delilah Khatri​.

     Delilah wasn’t used to being touched. With family, they offered small hugs in farewell, with friends, the same, and less often, and when it came to anyone else… well, she didn’t partake. She could count on one hand the amount of times a man’s touch had skimmed her thighs, her waist, and it left behind a warm, ghostly sensation, nerve-endings reminded her just how little she experienced it, and perhaps, just how much she wanted to. He’s a killer. A criminal. Dangerous. He is one of the last men you want touching you. Regardless, she remained still, not realizing she’d held the air in her lungs the entire time, not releasing until he spoke.       “What?” Confusion etched her brow momentarily as she glanced down at her arm, feeling the device under her skin when he applied pressure. Delilah never thought about her tracker; a mandatory piece of her, unnoticed, necessary. And now… that bump in her arm became one in her throat.

     “They gave me this,” she responded, canting her head to the side to direct his attention to the band around her bicep, “They told me it’d jam it.”

     Tilting his head to the side, Garrett hooked his index underneath the band and rotated it a little in place, spotting the tiny blue indicator light on the inside that showed it was on, the corners of his mouth dipping before he stepped away, turning his back on her.

Delilah Khatri​.

     She couldn’t trust a stranger. She couldn’t wait for Agents; not when the type of work she was doing was illegal. Everything else: time. A specific window that offered very little room for travel and now she was alread behind. Delilah made a motion for him to retreat before stepping out, once again regarding the spatter of blood on her clothes and her skin, ignoring the churn of her stomach and the shiver that ran up her spine, contradictory against the blazing sun beating on her shoulders.      “I do. But I have to get where I’m going quickly… and…” She looked him up and down, inhaling through her nose as she straightened her posture, “My options are limited. You didn’t kill me. You’re wanted. And… I’m on my way to do illegal work that is time sensitive or else I’m… I don’t know? Fired or maybe they’ll decide to shoot me and leave me to bake in the desert like these guys. Either way, it’s looking like you’re my best option, and maybe, by some chance, I’ve lucked out and you’ve already been where I need to go.” 

     Swallowing her fear — and it took a moment to get her moving — Delilah slipped her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, showing him her screen: a map with the location of her destination. An outpost. Nameless, as far as she knew. Nothing more than a bright red, blinking dot on her screen. “So? You wanna help out a doctor who, at the very least, must still look very pleasing covered in dirt and blood?” Because if she was going to die, at least she could sprinkle a little humor in at the end.

     A doctor doing illegal work. There weren’t a lot of options for what that could be, and when the brunette held her phone out to him — after a moment of studying the location and the surrounding area — he found that it was familiar to him. Not overly so — he’d never been there, but he’d heard of it. A skeptical glance, a sigh, and he dropped to one knee in front of her, starting from the top of her boots and going up her ankles, legs, patting her down. Rising, his hands skimmed her hips, her sides, the small of her back, then his fingers encircled her left forearm, pulling it toward himself a little.

Delilah Khatri​.

     Just don’t stop for nothin’. So she’d made mistake number one and how many more were there to make when she was in foreign territory. The OR was hardly stress-free, but there, she had control and knowledge on her side. Delilah was in her element; and out here sure wasn’t. If it hadn’t been for a man she’d been warned was a danger to society, she could’ve been dead, injured, maybe even kidnapped. And yet…

     Delilah had no desire to stick around to see how far his kindness extended, pressing down on the acceleration to roll off the dirt and back on to the road. Instead, the car kicked up sand, a grinding sound as it failed to pick up traction, crunching against the edge of the pavement where it met the dirt. Before she knew it, she was slamming her hands down on the wheel — once, twice, three times and four — stomping against the pedal as she fought the urge to let out a yell. She’d be late; real professional, especially when she wasn’t entirely sure what she was walking into to begin with. An underground job. Keep her mouth shut. Professional.

     “… Wait.”

     By the looks of things, her car wasn’t getting her far. Or anywhere, really. Garrett heard her struggle, opting to ignore it for a few paces before curiosity got the better of him and he turned around, a little amused, a little exasperated, and that’s when he spotted it — the sun glinting off two of the caltrops the thieves had scattered across the lanes embedded in her left front tire.      Then her voice drifted toward him from the open driver’s side window. Wait. Again. This is getting ridiculous. Most people would spend the better part of a day waiting for agents — or at the very least a tow truck — before willingly spending a second more than they had to around him, but this doctor was either trusting, foolish, or both. Maybe something else. Desperate, or not what she appeared.

     After a moment’s hesitation, he approached, leaning on the lower edge of the opening the window had created in the door as he looked down at her.    “Your tire’s busted.”

Delilah Khatri​.

      A strange sense of comfort overcame her when Delilah noticed his smile: warm, almost jovial, and the complete opposite of what she’d expect from a man she’d just witnessed killing a handful of men. If she’d ran into him on the street, she would’ve thought him handsome, even if his attire suggested he spent a majority of his time outside city limits. Not her usual type, if she even had one; Delilah rarely spent time on romantic pursuits. And this was absolutely, positively, not the time. The worst possible. A terrible prospect. A… criminal one. Garrett Uley — and how had she not recognized one of Avalon’s most wanted?

     “Yeah,” she responded, unable to take her eyes off of him — not because of his looks, or his size, but because she still wasn’t sure if she was actually safe. She backed up slowly, a hand reaching behind her for the driver’s handle, which she had to fumble around to find for a moment before she opened it and got into her car. 

     “Wait!” Her hands where on the wheel, engine started as she called out her open window, concern momentarily tightening her lips into a line, “I have to go further. Am I supposed to expect more of that?”

     Better late than never, the brunette returned to her car, the door smacking shut behind her a moment before the engine came to life, and Garrett turned away, pacing to the side of the road to let her pass, kicking a caltrop out of the way with a metallic ring as it bounced against the dusty blacktop.      Again, her voice, and again he turned around, another huff leaving him as he answered.

   “Just don’t stop for nothin’.”

Delilah Khatri​.

     “Do I—” She wasn’t dead. He wasn’t aiming a gun at her. An inquiry, instead. As if this were some everyday normal encounter. Just another day in the desert! Guns ablazing! These were the people their Government warned them about — well, the dead ones were. And him? A man — who was so huge she had to tilt her head back further than what felt natural to get a look at him — who had murdered a handful of people. Not her. And hadn’t they been the bad guys? And—      Had he asked her if she needed anything? Her lungs cleared as she took a furious stride closer, fists remaining at her side as her brows came together with annoyance, confusion, and… anger. “You just—” She swept an arm in a gesture toward the carnage, “In front of—” Delilah might’ve lacked many things, but eloquence had never been one of them, and the way she stumbled through her words caused a twinge of irritation, the crease deepening between her brows as she closed her eyes, taking a deep, slow breath.

     When she opened them, she had relaxed her hands, fingers hanging loosely at her sides as she looked at him, her expression sterner than before, “So this may be a normal day for someone like you, but not for me. And a question like do I need something is falling a little flat about now when I’m wearing some desert scum’s innards on my forehead!” Delilah stopped short, blinking with a wide-eyed stare because she’d started going off and just because he hadn’t shot her yet…

     “You’re not— I can just… go?”

     A doctor. More desensitized to death than the average person — and probably in the Government’s employ, but he hadn’t seen her call for anyone yet. There was no comm in her ear, though it was entirely possible that she’d used her phone while he had his back turned, and maybe that was why she hadn’t left yet; she was waiting for backup. Certainly brave, if so, with him armed and her (seemingly) defenseless, and that couldn’t be it. Not when they both knew it would take him less than a second to dispense with her, too, but then what the fuck was she doing? Making conversation?

     Desert scum. Garrett chuckled, meeting her gaze, round with… horror? Confusion? Helplessness? However long she was planning to process, he didn’t have time to stick around until the next car rolled through — and no matter how far out into the boonies they were, there was always that risk.