#shadowtrain

“Darling is dead,” Lens says simply, gun raised, smoke still pouring from the barrel.

“Lens,” Simon’s face twists in fear as he backs away, arms held up to show he isn’t reaching for his guns. “I know we’re close, but I don’t think we’re close enough to start pulling guns at each other.”

He expected one of them to snap loose at some point; he hadn’t expected their sniper to be one. Darling had her fair of problems, always eager to blow the brains of a patron who made her body a property. He, on the other hand, had enough impostor syndrome to shoot a guy who dared mention the shake in his hand when he held someone at gunpoint. Lens, however, was always calm, collected, ready to throw his life on the line compared to all of them.

“Tell me, Cash, why is it we travel by three?”

Lens approaches his gun, and Simon can smell the heat coming from it.

“So the other two can clean up the mess.” His answer isn’t good enough for their sharpshooter, and Simon can feel his skin sizzling when the hot barrel pushes his chin up. “Kill the other or die trying,” he tries again.

“Good boy,” Lens whispers against his ear. He pulls back but never moves the gun away from Simon’s face, and the demolition artist knows better than to piss him off. “Now you see, Cash, I don’t intend on dying today.” He sits on the crates at the other end of the wagon, and for a second, Simon remembers why he ever got involved with this man in the first place. “Tomorrow, either, for that matter. Because I have something important to do, and the only reason you’re still alive is because I need you.”

With those words, something clicks.

“You killed Darling,” he accuses. He doesn’t expect their sniper to start laughing.

“No.” He wipes an imaginary tear away from his eye. “But I may have participated in the elaboration of that murder.” That smile sends shivers down his spine, and bile rises to his mouth. “Do you want to live, Cash?”

“I usually don’t have a preference, but right now, I might say live.”

Not because he wants to but because there is torture behind that smile, and while Simon manages well with his team around, torture isn’t something he’s trained against.

“Wonderful.” The smile fades just as fast as it arrived. “Then here’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to shoot you, and you’re not going to shoot me because you know damn well I pull faster than you do.” Unfortunately, he is massively aware of that fact, and the scar on his cheek can attest to it. “You, being the best fucking demolition expert I’ve ever met, will help me with my goal and then you can go along your merry way. Do we have an understanding?”

“Will we still be following the Shadows?”

Simon doesn’t actually care about the Shadows. At this point, he’s just trying to get what little information the sniper is willing to tell.

“Don’t start this with me.” Lens sees right through him. “You’re as fickle as a chemical bomb, Cash. Your allegiance is worth as much as lint in a shoe.”

“That’s a little hurtful,” Simon chuckles dryly.

“If you say so.” Lens finally pulls the gun away from in between his eyes, and Simon breathes for the first time in what feels like hours. “Now, what is it going to be? A bullet in that pretty little mouth of yours or a no-questions-asked partnership?”

“The second one.”