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Ryan had lost his left hand about a year into his partnership with Gavin. Rather than the accident ending his career as an agent, some of his friends in the experimental technologies department at the Agency constructed him a fully functional prosthetic hand, completely waterproof and grafted directly onto his forearm. His friends jokingly started calling him Iron Ryan, and the moniker had stuck, despite the fact that the artificial hand didn't have any metal components.
The nickname may have also had something to do with the way Ryan dealt with pain unflinchingly, his sky-high body count, and that he'd continued - and helped successfully complete - the mission on which he'd lost his hand, using only a zip tie as a tourniquet. He'd passed out shortly after the mission's completion, but the incident had done enough to firmly solidify his legend status back at the Agency.
Regardless, the technology behind the prosthetic was years beyond what anyone else had access to, including any certified research projects, and that was why it was so important that Ryan didn't let it fall into the hands of the mercenaries who had captured him.
There were two very important differences compared to last time this had happened. First, the men who had caught him were seasoned professionals who knew exactly what they were dealing with, rather than a bunch of rookies in way over their heads.
Second, they had also caught Gavin.
Ryan squinted against the harsh white lights and the blood in his eyes, glancing sideways at his partner. Gavin had a busted lip and a bloody nose, but was otherwise fine barring a few bruises hidden under his suit. It wasn't a good position that they were in - they were crouched on their knees, hands cuffed behind their back, their weapons and communicators confiscated. There were no less than four guns trained on each of them. The only thing going for them was that the mercenaries hadn't yet figured out that Ryan had the prosthetic, as it was hidden by the stealth suit and gloves that he wore. It was just bad luck that he'd been the one captured - the men were looking for the designs, but could probably find a way reverse-engineer them from the actual product.
"You know, if an Agency with facilities as advanced as yours figured out how to make such innovative prosthetics, you'd think they'd share them with the medical community. Of course, I don't want them for moral reasons. I want them for monetary reasons." Their lead captor grinned. "Those plans are worth a lot more to us than you two are. Tell us how to get to them now, and I promise to go easy on you."
Neither of them said anything. Ryan snorted contemptuously under his breath. One of the men grabbed him roughly by the hair, forcing his head back and jamming the muzzle of a pistol against his throat. "He asked you a question."
"Actually, no he didn't," Ryan replied calmly, as if they were sitting down for coffee. "Now get your hands off me."
"Leave him," the leader ordered. "He's no stranger to this game, it'll take forever to get anything out of him." He jerked his head in Gavin's direction. "Go make him stand up nice and tall, kid looks like he's never been properly interrogated before." He smiled cruelly. "It'll be a learning experience for him."
Ryan's insides went cold. This would indeed be a first for Gavin. Every field agent had mandatory interrogation resistance training, but Ryan knew training in a 'safe' environment, with medical crew on standby, was wildly different to being tortured by someone whose sole intention was to inflict malicious harm with the intent of extracting information. Ryan had been hardened by over a decade of experience, but, in this aspect, Gavin was still fairly soft. The fear in Gavin's eyes as he was hauled to his feet let Ryan know the younger agent was well aware of this.
"He has such pretty eyes, doesn't he?" The leader continued, serenely pulling a combat knife from a sheath on his thigh and striding forward. "I think I just might have to take one home with me."
"Don't do this," Ryan said warningly, knowing even before he said it that the words were futile.
Gavin was doing his best to pull free of the man holding him in place, right up until the muzzle of a gun brushed gently along his neck. He whimpered and was still. The man holding him smirked, returning his hands to their grip on Gavin's arms.
The leader closed the distance between them, one hand grasping Gavin's jaw, forcing the agent's head to the side. He rapped the flat of the blade against Gavin's cheekbone, and Gavin's eyes struggled to keep the knife in view. "Left or right?" The interrogator asked. "Which would you rather lose?"
Gavin was trembling, entire body straining away from the sharp object that was far too close to his eyes. He couldn't even formulate an answer.
Shrugging, the leader raised the knife, preparing to carve through the optic nerve of Gavin's left eye.
"Wait!" Ryan gritted his teeth as the leader turned to him with a triumphant smile. "Don't do it. I'll tell you how to get the plans." Gavin sagged bonelessly in his captor's arms when the leader stepped away.
"I'm listening."
"You'll need to-"
No one saw him do it, but suddenly Gavin had worked himself free of his cuffs and grabbed the gun arm of his captor. He twisted the limb, pulling the man in front of him and taking his weapon in a fluid motion. His cohorts reacted just a fraction of a second too late, and bullets pounded into the mercenary's back. His flak jacket protected him from those, but not the one that lodged itself at the base of his skull. The merc slumped in Gavin's arms, and Gavin charged forward, zigzagging slightly, using the body as a shield as he fired.
Almost simultaneous to this, Ryan's legs shot out and tangled with those of the leader, bringing him to the ground. Ignoring the scraping pressure on his arms, Ryan wriggled his cuffed wrists out from behind his back and under his backside, until his hands were in front of him again. He crunched his elbow into the face of the man he had just knocked over, who groaned and then was still. Ryan grimaced as a bullet entered his upper arm, but he rolled to the side, using the man he had downed as cover, like Gavin had. The handcuffs were presenting something of a problem - it would take too much time and concentration to remove them, two things he couldn't spare right now.
He grabbed the fallen leader's pistol and twisted it around to point at his left hand, springing to his feet and effectively stilling the battle, the mercenaries giving him confused looks. The entire fight had only taken a matter of seconds. "This is the technology you're looking for," he said clearly, waggling the fingers of his prosthetic hand and backing up a few paces. "If any of you move, I'll shoot it to pieces. Nobody wins."
"You're bluffing. Your Agency wouldn't give tech like that to an agent. Not 'til they'd weaponised it, and we know they haven't." One of the mercenaries readjusted his grip on his weapon.
"If you're so sure. Gavin, come over here and show them. No one else move."
Gavin cautiously lowered his meat shield to the ground, taking small, slow steps over to Ryan before quickly picking the lock on his cuffs. He rolled down Ryan's sleeve and lifted up the edge of his gloves, so that the mercenaries could clearly see the seam on Ryan's arm between real and synthetic skin. Two mercs kept their guns trained on Gavin as he stepped to the side, the others keeping their sights on the older agent.
"You still wouldn't shoot it, though." The mercenary's voice wasn't as confident.
Ryan arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I? I'm under no illusion that you'd kill us as soon as you're sure you can get this without damaging it." He wiggled his fingers again. "At least my way, it's a tie rather than a loss for me. I hate losing, don't I Gavin?"
The younger agent nodded sympathetically. "He really does."
"Well, what do you suggest we do, then?" The man asked sarcastically. "You've put us at a stalemate."
Ryan shrugged. "We always could try-" The lights pulsed momentarily. The mercenaries involuntarily glanced up at the bulbs, but by the time they looked back down, Ryan and Gavin had already dropped and rolled to the side, the lights shutting off when they were halfway through the motion. They both opened fire on where the mercenaries had been standing, receiving a few shots of wildly inaccurate return fire as their foes tried to guess where they'd moved to. Unfortunately for them, Ryan had manoeuvred both himself and Gavin away from the windows, so the dim starlight that made it into the room only served to illuminate the profiles of the two mercenaries that hadn't already been gunned down. The agents both fired once more, and heard two corresponding thumps. The lights flickered back on after a few seconds, the spotlights outside remaining dark, and they were free to admire their handiwork. Ryan grimaced. He'd sustained a second injury in the dark. The bullet was a through and through - luckily, it was purely a flesh wound, and if the bullet had travelled even an inch to the right, it wouldn't have even hit him at all.
Gavin knew Ryan well enough not to mention it. "Would you really have given up the plans to stop him from hurting me?" he asked softly instead.
"Of course. You have any idea how hard it's been to find an agent that's willing to work with me? You're the only one that's lasted more than a couple of missions. Besides, I could tell you had something planned." Ryan readjusted the sleeve around his prosthetic hand as Gavin searched the leader, pulling their communicators out of one of the man's pockets. He threw Ryan's to him whilst cramming his own into his ear, already hearing their off-field agent's voice telling them that they better not be dead.
"Free? Haywood? Can you hear me? You shitheads better be there."
"Right here, Michael!" Gavin grinned.
"Hey Jones," Ryan greeted, voice cheerful. "Took your sweet time with those lights."
"Well, I had to make sure you assholes you were uncuffed before I turned them off. Getting the camera across from that building into a position where I could actually see you both through the window took a lot of careful readjusting. Besides, don't tell me you didn't like toying with them, you sick fuck."
"Can't argue there."
Michael went back to topic. "Either of you hit?"
"I'm top, Michael."
"That's not an actual answer, but you're like a fucking cat or something, so I'm sure you're fine. Ryan?"
"Just a little bit. I'm good." Ryan walked over to the mercenary that he'd knocked out at the beginning of the fight - the only one without a bullet wound. He quickly corrected this anomaly with a single burst of gunfire, dropping the mostly empty pistol next to the body.
"Jesus fucking Christ, why do I bother asking. It's you, of course you managed to get yourself hit." He made an exasperated noise. "Where'd they get you?"
"Right upper arm and right lower torso, both flesh wounds. Caleb can patch me up, no problem."
Michael let loose a string of profanity. "You're lucky that our medical facilities are so top-of-the-line. The Agency probably wouldn't keep you if you were out of commission for six or so weeks every time you came back from a job."
"I'm one of the best. They can't really afford to lose me."
The off-field agent muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Wanna bet?"
"Hey, this is the first time this has happened this year."
He could almost feel Michael glaring at him.
"It's January."
Ryan grinned and said nothing.
Gavin collected their weapons and handed Ryan's gun back to him. He then opened the door to the exterior walkway, letting the older agent go through before him. Despite brushing off the injuries and maintaining a pain free expression, a thin sheen of sweat had formed on Ryan's face and neck.
Ryan swept his gaze over the compound. He spotted two nearby sentries making their way over to the building at a steady run, having obviously heard the commotion through the door. The agents waited until they were a few paces away from the doors and vaulted over the railing, landing on the unfortunate patrollers. A low groan escaped Ryan's lips and Gavin cast him a worried glance, helping him up gingerly. Ryan gave him a smile, waving him off, and they entered one of the first floor rooms.
Making his way to a computer terminal, Gavin plugged something into a USB port, fingers flying nimbly over the keyboard. Ryan glanced at the screen, then turned his attention to the points of entry into the room, not understanding the majority of what was appearing on the monitor. While certainly handy enough with a computer, Ryan just didn't have the level of skill or knowledge required to hack a system anywhere near as quickly as Gavin could. He remembered one particular mission, before he'd been partnered up with Gavin, where his then-partner had been unable to finish a hack. Ryan had been forced to take over, and while he'd gotten the job done, he'd come perilously close to disaster.
After about six minutes of rapid keystrokes, Gavin shut down the program he'd been running, pulling the USB device from the port. He tapped the gadget with a grin. "When we get back to HQ, we'll see who hired those guys, and if we're lucky, how who hired them found out about the prosthetic in the first place."
"Good work. Let's go."
They met a few more patrols on their way to the exit, but were easily able to slip by or otherwise subdue them. They did end up having to open fire again once they reached the gate, but they were through within seconds and melted into the anonymity of the streets. They made their way to the waiting van at an even pace. Giving the driver a quick wave, they clambered into the back of the van, sitting beside each other on the bench riveted to the wall. They switched off their earpieces as the van pulled out smoothly onto the main street.
Adrenaline was still running high in both of them and they laughed, success - and a little bit of blood loss on Ryan's part - making them giddy.
Gavin shook his head with disbelief, a wide grin on his face. "Jesus, I couldn't believe it when you just stood up like that. I thought they would've shot you for sure."
"It was a calculated risk. I didn't really have anywhere else to go."
"Yeah, but... you wouldn't really have shot your hand, would you?"
"Eh, it's just a prosthetic. The plans are at the lab still, but you know I couldn't let those mercs get their hands on this and risk them figuring out how to replicate it."
"But it's not just a prosthetic!" Gavin protested. "I don't really understand how it works, but I know enough to know that the lab guys were able to simulate nerve endings or something, so you'd have a sense of feeling in it. You would have felt it."
Ryan looked pointedly at the two bullet wounds he'd sustained.
"I just... I mean, I know our jobs are dangerous and whatever, you told me that last time." Gavin placed one hand on Ryan's knee, a concerned expression on his face. "I just wish you wouldn't act like your safety's so unimportant."
The van rocked as it went over a speed hump, and the motion made Gavin's hand slide up Ryan's leg. He blushed slightly but didn't move away. "Please."
Ryan stared at Gavin's hand for a long moment. "Are you sure you want to be doing that?" He asked softly.
Gavin swallowed, nodded. "Yeah, I do. You're not an easy person to get to know, but I do, and I know you're incredible. It's hard enough to meet someone like that in the civilian world, and the stress of always having to lie about where I am and what I do really gets to me. I know it's against protocol to be involved with another agent, because we'll start worrying about them when we're on the job instead of focusing on what we're doing, but I already worry about you so much because you won't worry about yourself, and..."
"Gavin." Ryan shushed him with a finger to the lips. "Protocol is protocol." The younger agent blinked and looked down at his lap. "And I'm almost a decade older than you. Not quite old enough to be your dad, but still. D'you understand?" Gavin nodded wordlessly. "Good."
Ryan cupped Gavin's jaw, sliding his hand around Gavin's neck and drawing him in for a kiss. He slipped his tongue into Gavin's surprised yet eager mouth, practically pulling the younger man onto his lap with one hand as the other tangled in the wild spiky tufts of his hair. A few moments later, they broke apart. Ryan smirked at Gavin's dazed expression. "Glad we got that settled."
"Wha?" Was Gavin's articulate response.
"I thought you said you knew me?" The innocence of Ryan's tone was marred by the grin on his face.
"Gavin, since when have I let convention or rules tell me what I should do?"