Chapter Text
Their orders were to get “the short one”. Grab him, knock him out if necessary, tie him up and gag him. Just get him back to headquarters without killing him or injuring him too badly. It wasn’t supposed to be the difficult part of the job, and they still spent days tracking down where to even find the guy, isolating where he stayed and where he and his partner went frequently. This was the first time he had been spotted alone and out of armor, and they followed him right into this dirty bar where every breath came laced with smoke.
There were three of them in the bar, half the team, watching the merc they had to snatch. Waiting. Had to wait, had to watch him and tail him when he left before snatching him off the side of the street. The idea was that it would be a lot easier to catch someone who was so very dangerous if he was wasted off his ass. The only problem was the multitude of people around, and the target himself.
“We should at least be able to break a bone or something,” Johnson said quietly. A glass of untouched beer sat in front of him. “He’s supposed to be dangerous, right? So why can’t we break something and subdue him that way?”
“Because orders,” Davis answered, “You can piss off the Boss if you like, but I’d rather live.” His drink was being emptied steadily, a sign that he was just taking this as a night to get a good buzz going.
Though Davis wasn’t taking this night seriously at all and all Johnson was good for was complaining, Walker kept his eyes on the idiot mercenary.
When they had entered the bar, it was hard to find where the hell Felix was - the place was packed. Lots of angry people yelling at each other. A woman had lunged for the man across the table from her as soon as they entered, clamping her hands around his neck. Bouncers yelled for them to stop fighting before someone died, to take it outside at least. Men at one table where smoking heavily, drinking and yelling at each other.
Then, at the bar, there was one noisy man, sitting on a bar stool and surrounded by a small group. This one, whose feet barely reached the middle rung of the bar stool, said, “Locus is a fuckin’ asshole and won’t drink with me. I offered to pay - told him it was totally on me, but no, no. Can’t loosen up for one fuckin’ night.”
The three of them had taken seats at a table close to the bar. They could hear every word Felix said, and it wavered between boasting of his own skills, insulting the other mercs, and flirting with anyone around him. Every few minutes, he would talk about Locus. How Locus wouldn’t come drink with him, how Locus refused to even leave the apartment tonight. Even how Locus wouldn’t fuck him when he was drinking. It was like the idiot had no filter, just spit out whatever came to mind.
This was who they were after; this short, obnoxious idiot that kept himself surrounded by other mercs and waved for drink after drink until he could barely hold his head up.
They had been in the bar for nearly two hours now, drinking slowly, trying to keep attention away from themselves. At least with all the drinks Davis was downing, no one was suspicious. No one asked questions, no one approached them. The one plus to a merc bar, really: no one gave a fuck about anyone else’s business.
In the time they had been there, Johnson had gotten two calls from the rest of the team and Felix had left the bar once. It had caught all of their attention - but all he had done was wander over to another merc in a corner and settle onto the other man’s lap. That had been one point where Walker took his eyes off of Felix because watching the noisy prick being groped by another drunk mercenary was not what he signed up for.
Hell, sitting in this goddamn bar wasn’t what he had signed up for, but here he was. Drinking with Davis, listening to Johnson bitch, and watching the mercenary they intended to capture like a hawk toying with its prey.
Felix had only spent ten minutes with the man in the corner before returning to the bar. He sat right back in the seat he had vacated and the next thing they heard from him was - “What the fuck do y’mean you guys are afraid of Locus?”
“He broke someone’s face,” another merc answered. “For fuckin’ you! No one wants to mess with that.”
“One time!” Felix protested, “He got a little angry one fuckin’ time!”
“He’s also shot someone before,” the other man added.
Another merc spoke up then. “And then there was that time he broke someone’s ribs, broke Mari’s arm - and she’s still bitching about that - “
“Nah, nah,” Felix said. “I broke her arm. She got handsy.”
“Point stands, man - no one wants to chance it.”
At the table, Johnson was cursing quietly as he finally reached for his drink. “How sure are we that we want to mess with these two?” he asked. “I mean, goddamn, listen to the shit they’re saying.”
At the bar, Felix was caught up trying to explain away various broken bones of his fellow mercenaries. Sounded like he was trying to blame a lot of it on what was going on at the time of the injuries, but his words were slurring and it was damn near impossible to decipher.
“Boss’s orders,” Davis said.
Johnson grumbled insults and Davis leaned over to take his drink too. Over at the bar, Felix was still complaining loudly about how no one would sleep with him, how his partner was an asshole, how everyone else wasn’t much better.
“Listen to him,” Johnson sighed. “We have to capture that? He’s just ...bitching. What kind of fuckin’ wimp ass merc is this kid?”
Davis said nothing, too busy downing the rest of Johnson’s drink.
Walker said, “That wimp ass kid is dangerous. Stop griping. Think about beatin’ his ass instead.” He paused, sighing. “He’s bitchin’ like he’s a whore though.”
“ S’pretty accurate,” Johnson said. He was staring at the table beneath his fingers, at the phone that lay in front of him, dark and silent. “We’re supposed to be a tough gang, and here we are. Pickin’ up whores in a merc bar.”
Davis slammed the glass in his hand on the table. “Speaking of! Got an idea. Gimme five minutes.” Then he was gone, pushing away from the table and wandering over to where Felix sat. His friends watched him as he made room for himself and engaged Felix in brief conversation. It took less than three minutes for Felix to shove his glass at the bartender and slide off the stool.
It was pretty clear now why their instructions had just been ‘the short one’ rather than a name. With his feet flat on the ground, Felix barely reached Davis’s shoulders. Johnson looked at him and scoffed. “Dude is tiny,” he said. It was pretty damn true - Felix couldn’t be much taller than five feet, if he wasn’t five feet even. Johnson mused, “We’re supposed to be afraid of this guy?”
Walker said nothing. He watched Felix grip Davis by the belt and start pulling him toward the door. Drunk fool could barely stand, wavering on his feet and stumbling when he moved. Felix navigated through feel alone, barely taking his eyes off Davis, not even turning around. It might have been impressive if he didn’t run into someone three feet from the bar. While he was spitting insults at the man who rose from his chair, Davis flashed a grin at his two companions sitting at the table. Even winked, the bastard.
Felix noticed, snapping his head around to them. He said, “Friends of yours?” and it carried across to the pair at the table. Then he was leaving Davis, using chairs and other people to hold himself steady until he could flatten both hands on their table. He glanced over both Walker and Johnson, leering, eyes dark. After a moment, he smirked. “Sorry I’m stealin’ your bud away” -he nodded toward Davis, standing beside him again- “but I can totally handle two guys.”
This short mercenary, drunk out of his mind, was raking his eyes over both Johnson and Walker. Like he was undressing each of them. There was a surprising amount of concentration in his expression for someone who was drunk and trying to hook up with strangers. Eventually he added, “I’ll take him,” and grinned at Johnson.
Johnson exchanged a look with Davis, a silent plea to take this idiot away. Or at least that was what Walker took it to mean. It only took seconds for Davis to be leading Felix out of the bar. Johnson kept his eyes on them until they passed through the door and after a moment he said, “Shouldn’t we be following them?”
“Yeah, good idea. Wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”
“He wanted to fuck us too. How would that be suspicious?”
Instead of answering, Walker made the call to the rest of their team. He told them that they had the target ready to go. “How long on your end?”
There was a pause, hushed voices on the other end of the line. Then, “Give us a few more minutes. We’ll have the van ready to go and waiting. You better have him by then.”
He hung up without answering. Insinuating he couldn’t apprehend one drunken idiot was a goddamned insult. After that was taken care of, he motioned for Johnson to follow him and headed to the bar, ordering another pair of drinks. Just to keep up the image that they were nothing but a couple of assholes wanting to get drunk.
It didn’t take long for one of the mercenaries to turn toward them. “You sure you want your friend takin’ Felix out?” the guy asked. Heavy-set, and strapped down with guns. Overcompensating.
“What’s the worst that’s gonna happen?” Johnson asked, peering at the group of mercs from around Walker.
“Locus is gonna kick his ass,” another merc supplied.
Walked rolled his eyes, ordered another drink. “You talk like Locus owns him,” he said quietly. To him, that's all it sounded like. With the way his gang was planning to use the two mercenaries, he was willing to believe it.
The mercenaries hadn’t heard him, too busy talking with Johnson now, talking around Walker like he wasn’t even there. After another two minutes, Walker paid for the drinks and left with Johnson on his heels, asking, “You don’t think Davis is actually gonna fuck the guy, do ya?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“But what if he does?”
“Then he’s probably gonna have crabs or something,” Walker said. They were outside now, heading for the nearest alleyway.
“One of those mercs said they’ve never known Felix to not fuck someone he drags out of the bar.”
“Again: Crabs. That’s how it ends. Now shut the fuck up. Christ, you’ve been a whinin’ fuck all evening.”
They had reached the alleyway, standing at the end. Davis had led Felix there, just as planned, and what they saw was Felix being shoved against a wall. Being so much taller than the merc didn’t seem to bother Davis at all. He had yanked Felix up a few inches, leaning down to cover the rest of the distance, and was kissing him. After a second, Johnson was giggling, and Walker heard him choke out, “He’s actually fuckin’ doin’ it…”
For a second, Walker had no idea what he was talking about - but then Davis let Felix fall back to the ground. And it was entirely obvious that Felix had a hand down Davis’s pants, groping him. As the other two watched, Felix sank to his knees, saying, “You’re gonna feel real good when I blow you.” Then he was undoing Davis’s pants, pulling out his cock and stroking it.
Davis hadn’t moved beyond placing one hand on the brick wall.
Johnson was still laughing, background noise as Walker slid the pistol from its holster on his hip. He wouldn’t shoot this goddamn mercenary, maybe just slap him around a little. He had only taken two steps forward before Felix’s eyes were on him and a grin was spreading over his face.
“Change your mind?” the merc said. He probably thought he sounded seductive. “I can take you too, come on.“
“Entertaining the goddamn whore wasn’t part of the plan,” Walker said to Davis. He ignored the anger that flashed over Felix’s face, glaring instead at Davis.
Davis looked somewhere between surprised and ashamed. He was trying to talk, raising his hands from the wall, but only got as far as, “Man, seriously…”
And then Walker was pointing the gun down at Felix, ready to fire. All for show, of course. Couldn’t really harm the little thing. “You wanna fuck him?” Walker asked. “Do you?” A hand landed on his arm - Johnson, telling him to take it easy for fuck’s sake. He ignored Johnson because he was in charge and Johnson was still a whiny fuck.
“Didn’t think it’d be so bad….” Davis muttered. Between his legs, Felix was glaring at the gun pointed at him.
“You can fuck him when we’ve got him,” Walker continued. “Until then, keep your goddamn dick to yourself.”
There wasn’t even a second of silence before Davis was screaming. Felix still had his hands on his dick, bending it until Davis pulled away from him. None of the three of them moved - aside from Davis, who bent forward to cover his dick, cursing. “Fucker broke my dick!”
Next second, there was a knife lodged into Davis’s throat. His words petered out into gurgling sounds as one hand came to the wound. Felix, drunk and swaying on his feet, was in front of him and grasping the hilt of the knife. He had thrown the damn thing, hitting with lethal aim even in the state he was in. Walker charged him first, wishing more than ever that shooting this bastard was part of the job. He raised the gun in his hand instead, intending to beat Felix over the head with it until he passed out.
Felix wrenched the knife from Davis’s throat the second before Walker reached him. He lashed out quick, slicing at Walker and dodging the gun at the same time. The first strike missed completely. The second cut deep into his face, narrowly missing his eye as Felix dragged the blade across his cheek and over his nose. It was the pain that brought Walker to his knees. White hot, searing pain that made his entire face feel like it was on fire. He pressed fingers to the slash on his face, wincing, positive this little whore had cut straight through to the bone.
He didn’t look up when Johnson rushed past him. Didn’t even move until Johnson’s body slammed into the ground in front of him. Slashed across the base of his neck, more wounds in his chest. Walker glanced over at Felix.
“Holy shit.” Felix was laughing, grinning, blood on his hands and dripping from the knife he held. He stood by where Davis had collapsed. “I’m ...so fuckin’ awesome...”
Somehow, they had ended up underestimating him, or someone had let their guard down. Something had gone wrong and instead of three of them overpowering one small, drunk mercenary, two of them were dead and Walker had to focus way too hard to see Felix clearly.
“Took down three of you,” Felix was saying. His speech was still slurred and when he moved toward Walker, he stumbled over his own feet. “Gonna be a great story for Locus when I get home.”
The sound of wheels screeching over the street caught Felix’s attention. He bypassed Walker completely, walking past where he knelt, and then whistled lowly. Walker turned his head, squinting until the figures leaving the van were clear. Two of them, converging on Felix.
Of course, they had no idea that Felix still moved fast. They should have been able to guess from the two dead men in the alley, but Felix still dodged their attacks - barely, he nearly tripped over his own feet - and then he was striking with that goddamn knife again. He struck one of them, dragging the knife over the woman’s knuckles before Walker had even pushed himself to his feet.
Felix still had his back to Walker, still focused on the other two. Made it nice and easy to slam the pistol into the back of his head. Felix grunted when it connected, body tensing. On the second hit, the knife fell from his hand and Felix collapsed on the pavement. He was still groaning when Walker slammed one foot into his back and leaned down to yank his hands behind his back. He had Felix handcuffed in seconds - not that it really mattered.
“Goddamn,” one of the other two said. “How the fuck did he manage to do this?”
“He’s dangerous,” Walker snarled. When he glared at the other two, they were looking back at him with wide eyes. The one Felix had cut was cradling her injured hand in the other. They were looking at the cut down his face, he figured. Neither of them moved and Walker lifted Felix easily, dragging him up and throwing the bastard over his shoulders. He made a face as he did, one that made the wound seize and throb anew - but, fucking hell, he could feel this punk's erection against his shoulder.
Managed to kill two of them, injure two more, and Felix was still hard. Fitting for a whore, he thought.
Walker carried Felix to the van, tossing him into the back and then climbing in. He kicked Felix’s unconscious body further away from him, scowling. This had been the easy part in the plan, and they had lost two men doing it. All because Felix had managed to dig his claws into Davis and get the jump on them.
His wound was tended to first, quickly, until bandages were pressed to it and gauze wrapped around his face. He was given painkillers and as they were starting to take effect, he stared down at Felix, nudged him with one boot. After a moment, he said, “Who's gonna watch this one?”
“Don’t know,” was his answer. “Boss hasn’t picked anyone yet.”
“I’ll do it. Fix my fuckin’ face and I’ll never leave this fuck alone.”
* * * * *
Felix hadn’t come home by morning. It wasn’t worrying, since he usually didn’t make it home until around mid-afternoon. Locus expected him to walk in the door hours from now, stinking of liquor and smoke, and complaining about how lonely it was to drink by himself. So Locus made his breakfast in the quiet of the apartment, ate while reading, and busied himself with cleaning up the place before Felix inevitably wrecked it again.
Locus’s apartment had two bedrooms, the second remodeled to hold his weapons and armor. It held Felix’s as well, as he never really seemed to bother with his own place anymore, and Locus stopped here last. It was already clean; he refused to let Felix make a mess of this room. Locus pulled his armor on slowly, methodically, listening for the sound of the door opening and the typical noise that came with Felix’s arrival. It was mid-afternoon now, past when his partner should have been barreling in and when his phone rang, Locus expected Felix.
It took him another minute to clasp the last piece of armor on, and in that time the phone had silenced. It rang again as he reached for it. Felix’s number, as he figured. He answered with, “You’re late.”
The voice that responded was deep, calm, and had Locus’s attention in an instant. “Hello, Locus.” It sounded filtered, disguised. “I won’t take up much of your time, provided you don’t make this difficult.” A pause. “We’ve captured your partner.”
Locus sighed. Another one of these. The last time someone had tried to hold Felix prisoner, he had slaughtered them and left the bodies to rot. Had only taken him four days, and Locus had told him to escape faster next time. He said, “If that’s true, put him on the phone.”
The voice denied that. Instead, there was another pause, wherein Locus could hear raised voices. After a moment, Felix’s cut through. “Is that Locus? Tell him to pay my tab at the bar! Didn’t have time to before this fuckhead hit me.” He was in the middle of telling Locus to expect him home in three days when his voice faded back.
The voice on the phone continued. “We will only hold him here as long as it takes for you to complete our objectives. If you complete those objectives in a timely fashion, he’ll be released… relatively unharmed.”
“I’m not doing your work for you,” Locus said flatly. If he concentrated, he could still hear Felix’s voice in the background. It was impossible to make out any words, but whoever these people were hadn’t bothered to gag him yet.
“We aren’t giving you an option, Locus. Listen to our orders, and your partner survives with as few injuries as possible. Disobey, and we will resort to more violent measures.”
Torture, in other words.
Locus said, “Who are you?”
He hadn’t expected an answer, and the one he got didn’t give much to go on. “Babylon.”
“...Babylon,” he repeated slowly. “If you’re going to hold him captive, I assume you mean to feed him. He’s lactose intolerant and allergic to peanuts. He also bit the fingers off the last man that tried to keep him against his will.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. As far as Locus knew, Felix had only bitten down to the bone. “Make sure he knows where you’re keeping his phone so he can contact me after he kills you.”
He hung up then, not wanting to hear whatever nonsense these people had in store. This was the third time in their partnership that someone had tried to capture Felix - for ransom, or to force Locus to work for them for free. It must have something to do with how small Felix was and how innocent he looked. It usually meant that people were surprised by the violence and fire that burned in someone his size, and that led to their deaths. Hopefully, Felix would be quick with this one.
Locus left his phone at home when he left. He had a job today, one that was supposed to have been completed with Felix, but it was easy enough for him to handle on his own. Simple infiltration job that ended up with far more dead than was necessary - the place was filled with the typical hard-headed thugs that charged a man in armor. Locus took them out easily, got what he was there for, and was paid for his work before dinner time.
He stopped by the bar on the way home to pay Felix’s tab. The bartender there had been working last night, luckily, and said he could give a description of the man Felix left with. “Wouldn’t help much,” he added thoughtfully.
“...Why not?”
“ ‘Cause he was found dead early this morning, along with some other guy.” The bartender paused to pour a drink for someone before turning back to Locus. “Figured Felix must’ve killed them.”
Locus didn’t doubt that at all.
He made it home intending to cook dinner and go through his messages to see if there were any new jobs he could take. Preferably solo ones. He wasn’t going to pick up Felix’s slack just because the other merc had gotten carried off in the middle of the night.
The phone was ringing when he stepped through the door. Still ringing by the time he pulled his helmet off and reached for it. Felix - or, rather, ‘Babylon’. Second time that day. Locus answered it with, “You’re very insistent. Has Felix not managed to get loose yet?”
The person that answered was the same as before. “Your partner is being kept in handcuffs and has a guard assigned to watch him personally. There are men at the door to his room. We’re not foolish, Locus. We know how to keep a prisoner locked up.”
Locus expected this person to be at least a little annoyed that he had cut the call off earlier. He expected threats and curses, for them to once again indirectly threaten Felix as well. He expected them to mention what they wanted from him. This ‘Babylon’, they said, “I’m going to give you one more chance to take this seriously, Locus. But you don’t have to hear it from me.”
A brief pause, and then Locus was listening to Felix. This was different. The previous times, no one had let Felix talk at all. He sounded fine, if not a little breathless. “Hey, Locus, baby. Did you pay the bar? I like that place, I wanna drink there again when these idiots are dead.”
“It’s paid.”
“Good, good… Can’t wait to be back home. This place is shitty.” A voice in the background said something and Felix sighed. “Right. I’m supposed to tell you that you should agree to what they want from you. I don’t know how serious they are, ‘cause all they’ve done to me is lock me in a room with like four people. Not an orgy, sadly, just some assholes who cheated at CQC and decided to give me new bruises.”
“Did you let them win?”
“One of them hit me with a gun. Isn’t that bullshit?”
Cheating, he had said. Locus made a small noise of agreement, started to tell Felix to move things along faster, when the other voice was back. “This is your last chance,” they said. “Agree to work with us, and we won’t harm Felix. We’ll even keep him well fed for you.”
Locus said, “I am not going to work with you. Tell Felix I’ll see him in three days.”
“This is a disappointment…” they said slowly. “But not a surprise. We’ll be in touch, Locus.”
He ended the call before they had finished his name.
* * * * *
The person in charge slid Felix’s phone into their pocket, turning to face him. They had him sitting at a table in some dirty room, hands cuffed and resting in front of him. He had woken up in this room, had yet to leave this room, and also hadn’t been taken out of the handcuffs. Even when they let him fight earlier, his hands had been cuffed. Though calling it a ‘fight’ may be stretching it a bit. That had hardly been more than a beating and he was still aching in places they had hit especially hard.
But now there were hands on him, wrenching him to his feet. The chair he had been sitting in screeched along the floor as he stood. “Oh, hey, are we leaving? Goin’ somewhere fun?” he asked.
“Locus isn’t cooperating, sadly,” the man said. At least Felix thought it was a man. Just someone who wore military-grade armor - nothing like his or Locus’s, nothing made like theirs - but it was bulky, looked tough, and came complete with a helmet that hid their face and filtered their voice. “We’re going to have to change that. Take him to one of the interrogation rooms.”
The man that had been watching him, his ‘guard’, shoved Felix forward. “Is that code for torture room?” Felix asked lightly. “Are you finally gonna get to the big stuff?”
The Leader paused then, stopped the others with a raised hand. “Tell them to prepare the blowtorch.”
Felix frowned. “The what.”
“See if you can’t get him to shut up,” the Leader continued. They were leaving, walking stiffly across the room to the door. “Record it. Send the file to me.” And then they were gone, door closing behind them.
The guard that had his hands on Felix was laughing. “Hear that?” he said in a mocking voice. “This is where the fun begins.”
Felix considered snapping back, hitting the guy, but he was biding his time for now. Waiting to find a chance to find a way out of this fucking place - and if he was going to leave the room, now was a good time to start. There’d always be a chance for all the talking he wanted later. Preferably as he was slicing this guy to pieces.
The guard started to lead him out the door, hands still on his shoulders, squeezing tightly before relaxing and squeezing again. Somehow, that was gnawing at him worse than the blowtorch mention. Something about it was just so very uncomfortable. He was absolutely going to carve this guard to pieces. Just as soon as he found a way out.