Chapter Text
A vicious crackle of thunder and lightning filled their room, abruptly waking Alistair who had already been dealing with the turmoil of his mind. He sat up, hugged his knees and gently rested his head against his arms, beginning the breathing exercises he had taught himself in times like this. Within a few extended inhales and exhales he felt himself lose track of time and reality itself. Soft fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on his head, prompting him to find the piercing blue gaze that could only belong to one of his brothers among the darkness. There was worry in those eyes, tell-tale by the soft glow in them from the blue fire that burned in his heart, reaching out ever so softly to comfort the red that enveloped his.
“Why don’t you let Andrei go? You’re getting sick just thinking about it,” Avian whispered as not to wake the others, scrambling to move further into the nook that was Alistair's bed. He rested his arm across his back, angling to scratch the wee sprouts of hair before letting his head come to a rest on the other’s shoulder. “He would do just as well.”
He sighed, knowing the truth that Andrei could not do ‘just as well’. The man was built on stubbornness and had an unwillingness to learn anything that didn’t involve aviation. Yet he couldn’t blame him, he’d found his niche just as any other human does. Although in Alistair’s endeavour to find his own he had learned many trades, techniques, and teachings that allowed him a broader playing field. The fire ablaze in Andrei’s heart had not been tamed either and he was still brewing with fury after their first encounter with the American. His eyes always drifted towards the healing bullet wound on Avian’s shoulder, gaze snapping away within seconds lest he be engulfed in hatred and driven to a madness he could not control.
“It has to be you, doesn’t it?” The hand that had been comforting him slipped away trailing down his arm to lay atop the hand that was still tightly gripping his knee. One long squeeze, and Avian moved out from the bed to return to his. A long day was to ensue.
The two he most cared about got the longest hugs but the other pair got a respectful nod. Something had been whispered into Avian’s ear, a note passed discreetly between them and tucked into a pocket but no one bothered to pry. It hurt to cut them off in such a manner, to leave his family behind as he loaded into the truck with the other soldiers, but it was something he had to do in order to protect them. ‘The American’ as he had been deemed by the local Afghani and fellow Russians was not to be underestimated and should any injury fall the brothers by his hand their emotions were surely to get the best of them. Tales had been told about the red sparks that danced on his skin and blue eyes that carried such boiling anger it could bring any stew to readiness. He had shown no mercy on several of their men for information, some gave it and some died by their vow of silence.
For now he would find comfort in the men he was placed with and indeed he felt safe among the highly trained Spetsnaz. They inquired exuberantly about him over the coming trip, often asking for a light that led to joyful expressions when his ruby red flame wrapped around the tip of the cigarette. Some even went as far as offering up a stick, piece of cloth, or a useless object to be ignited and charred, and he would indulge them. When things had become silent and the others had satisfied their curiosity, one sat close by the fire while the rest dallied around the makeshift camp.
“My father fought alongside yours, called him ‘The Greatest Soviet Experiment’. I’m excited to see his progeny in action.”
“I think you’ll be disappointed.” Putting on a show for foolish men was child’s play, but showing real talent with his abilities was something he had yet to master and a subject he was unwilling to dabble in. It was a deal he had made with Avian one day after school, ‘Use no fire but for growth, prosperity, and most importantly- fun .’ He had held strong by it for years - pinky swore if he remembered correctly - instead learning to fight by pure strength and strength alone. Aleksandr and Aiden used it too much for bullying, burning others’ food and books, while Andrei had the habit of losing his temper which left the surrounding area littered in burn marks.
“Don’t think I will. He told me how powerful he was, scorched scores of men, left others disfigured and smelling downright rotten.” Alistair didn’t care to hear about his father as much as Andrei did. It was all brute force, manliness , without the tactical aspect.
“And did anyone ever tell you about my mother?” The other shot him a confused look, eyes wide at the thought of a woman with such power.
“N-No, I didn’t think they’d allow such a thing.” Such a statement left a sour taste in Alistair’s mouth, insulted that for all she’d done no one bothered to remember. But he did, he would always.
“When the krauts marched in, in 1941, she was there. Took out hundreds of them all the while keeping friendlies nice and toasty, meals warm.” Some days had Alistair astounded at what people will erase, even his brothers willingly glossing over their own mother’s feats. Everyone had been enamored by Iven, a man so lost in booze, women, and fire to call some of his actions heroic was shameful. Yet in the coldest of winters, in the darkest of nights, Anastasia had held the everlasting flame of the Red Army.
The fire that lit the camp burned out with the coming sun and the remaining hours went by quickly as the group neared their destination- the last known position of the American as told by watching eyes. He had been diligently searching within old Russian hold outs for any and all scraps of information, anything to lead to the location of the bastard Kaidnovosky family. But as luck would have it, they found him first.
In the dark of night his partners had cleared most buildings fairly quickly, obediently following the layout of the camp yet he strayed, trailing the familiar burn marks of a man without a path, lost to his own thoughts and feelings. He had seen them once before when Andrei had been rejected. The house over the next few days was a mess with every graze and grasp of fiery fingers. Alistair had sat down next to him when he finally collapsed out of exhaustion, inquiring why it was such a big deal, and the answer came in big bubbling tears. ‘ I loved them.’ He had never felt love himself, perhaps never tried, but he knew his brother had a big heart that poured out for anything and everyone. A dingy stray cat could have him bawling on his knees, offering his last piece of tuna sandwich. Something to think about , he thought. Had love caused someone to lose their way yet again?
All of his training had prepared him for the moment, yet here he was taken aback, struggling to see beyond what his flame could illuminate as the sleeping agent traveled through his body. In a spout of anger he began haphazardly waving a fiery hand, attempting to keep the attacker at bay. The American laughed, ending his struggle for consciousness by one swift knock to the head with his gun.
When the others approached the scuffle the American walked past near calmly with the Russian on his shoulder. The squad was only met with the searing blaze of a fire wall conjured by the American himself when they drew close, and every step had a lick of fire lashing out, tempting one to step forward. His quarrel was not with them and he would not see them burned if he had not gained anything from their destruction.
The slap was unnecessary. He had already been waking up albeit groggily and to his dismay. There was no need for struggle, no attempt to escape as he felt the rope tight against his wrists and ankles. “Into BDSM I see. Good handy work.” His hands flexed desperately as he attempted to call up a spark only to be met with the reality that his power had since been neutralized. Alistair smirked, admiring the extent the other had gone to water him down. Too weak to deal with me as I am, huh? His eyes studied the small room, a workshop most likely as tools adorned the walls. A gun placed upon the wood table, patiently waiting to claim another victim. But a key part was missing.
Alistair closed his eyes, listening to the soft crunch of sand and soil on the concrete floor as bootsteps approached from behind. “Shut up.” Such a weak response, so intimidating. When he reopened them, there stood the man who was so hellbent on killing his family. Those were the blue eyes they spoke of, nothing like Avian’s. Harsh and pale. Unforgiving. They stared down at him as the face of a blade caught the glint of the bulb above them.
“Oh, wow, really authentic. Dangling bulb. Disgusting room. Knife. Amazing scene setting, it’s really believable!” His snarky comments were rewarded with a harsh hit to the jaw, but it didn’t discourage those to come.
“Where are your fucking brothers?” Richard pressed the edge of the blade against Alistair’s throat, desperately holding back from drawing blood and silencing him then and there.
“That hurts, you know? Where’s your parents? I’m telling them you’re not playing nice.” In a blurred movement, a knife was sunk deep into his abdomen. He suppressed a pained groan, “Fuck, that was my favourite tattoo.”
“God, I’ve about had e-fucking-nough of you. Tell me where your fucking brothers are.” Another puncture was made not far from the previous, more being made with fierce repetition of the question. Richard was growing impatient and knife play was not going to work, and if not that then what would? Something sparked in his mind as the dirty knife was dropped, red speckled hand moving to hover ever so close to Alistair’s chest.
“What are you doing? You going to cop a feel?”
Red flames began to dance ever so lightly on the bloodied skin of Richard’s hand, bringing the liquid to a boil despite his flesh remaining undamaged. For a moment, Alistair retained his smug demeanor before the realization that his fire had been washed away dripped down onto his face, turning his expression into a deep scowl. The heat was bearable for some seconds until the fire grew, fingers touching down on his bare chest. Brows furrowed deeply as he exhaled, beginning to draw long breaths while focusing on the handle of the door as his mind dipped into the waters of another time.
“What are you doing?” A soft spoken voice emerged from the blackness, painting the inner cavern of his mind with the yellow and green of a field, surrounding trees rustling in the wind, and a distant body of water moving in constant as time should. The bustle of busy Moscow could be heard past the area- one could never really escape the city without straying too far from home. This was one of his favourite moments.
“Practicing.” A red flame flowed peacefully through the air as Alistair moved into another tai chi position, something Avian could never accomplish. His brother sat down among the billowing grass, watching his every movement diligently.
“I think you look dumb.” Remarks from Avian weren’t uncommon, and in a weird way he appreciated them. At least he wasn’t lying as his brothers did most of the time, often making a silly try at being interested in anything that wasn’t rough housing.
Alistair hummed in response as he held the pose, “You could join me.”
Reluctantly, Avian pushed himself up to walk over and mimic his brother, studying his figure before making a terrible attempt at copying it. He exhaled, summoning the blue flame that cursed him most days. The fire sparked and spat, moving out of control as opposed to the liquidity shown by it’s ruby partner.
“Slow your breathing.” Easier said than done. Avian closed his eyes but couldn’t conjure anything that calmed him, rather he worked himself up even more in the coming moments. His fire began to lash out like the sun’s solar flares, the coloured hair on his head igniting as his face contorted into a pained expression. Alistair watched as the skin began to spark, electricity emitting at Avian’s fingertips and before a coherent thought graced his mind he grabbed his hand, swallowing the fire and electricity whole. Avian’s eyes shot open at the sudden contact, meeting his brother’s concerned gaze before they both turned to look at the miracle before them.
“Did you know our colours can mix? Have you ever seen them do that? S-Should we tell them? I think Andrei would love it.” Alistair retracted his hand which returned to it’s normal red state and Avian’s own blue. They again combined hands, creating a luscious purple that mimicked their brother’s.
“No, no, and no.” At least he answered all of his questions, but to keep this from their brothers was going to be hard. Avian was never the one to pass up a good ‘look what I can do and you can’t!’ moment. But the trouble was quickly forgotten as they brightened the evening sky with splashes of blue, purple, and red, at some point creating a tiny purple lightning strike that unfortunately sent a poor tree to it’s grave. And that’s when they decided to run before they caught something on fire. Fire. Hmm, that was a funny word.
“I guess this is it, huh. You’re fucking useless to me.” Richard stabled his flame for the time being, looking once over for the gun he had hastily discarded on the table. By now there was no energy left in Alistair’s body to react to the searing pain that flecked across his chest where fingertips dug in and melted flesh, tattoos drooping downwards. The warm thought of Avian had departed from his mind, leaving him to the cold and harsh reality. But he didn’t mind. There were four others safe, protected by the actions he would take in this very moment. Alistair never considered himself a man afraid of death. If it came, it came, and that was something he was willing to come to terms with as long as it had meaning. His gaze remained fixated on the floor as the cold metal of the gun was placed to his forehead, a hand roughly grabbing his face to push his head up and force his eyes to come in contact with that of his attacker.
No warning, only pain. Red illuminated between them, yet he could not escape this time, instead being forced to take in the smell of his own burning flesh. Never did the scorching heat falter, even when the hand was removed from his face. As much as Alistair wanted to fight, this was the end. He need not continue, need not look for a path away from the light.
“Any last words?” What could be pulled into a smile did so, a certain respect towards the mockery of his earlier sarcasm that made the other cringe. A simple flex of muscles...
Bang.
The brothers had been waiting, hopeful for his return, but when everyone jumped out of the truck with eyes downcast there was a notion something had gone wrong. Avian rushed past the soldiers, desperately searching every nook and cranny of the vehicle for Alistair. He implored them to answer his cries, but was met with stares and silence. Andrei followed suit, pulling his brother into a hug before blue would dance uncontrollably among the soldiers, leading him back into the barracks.
Days passed before his body was left on their doorstep, abandoned in the same fashion he had died in. Attempts had been made to keep him from seeing the corpse but to no avail, he had a knack for slipping through when he was deemed ‘too soft to see.’ Wordless cries escaped, hot tears streamed down his cheeks, and blood marred his skin as he held his brother to his chest. Andrei had put a hand on his shoulder in solace but was quickly pushed away with a blue fury that he could not withstand. ‘Let him be,’ he heard as the others walked away and it was rightful that they left him to wallow in his grief, he was owed that. For years, Alistair had been his only saving grace, holding the black creatures and ghosts of his past and future back with red flame. He had been there to protect him from Sasha and Aiden when they poked and prodded at him for being the loose end. He had been there to protect him from himself when his fire roared out of control, threatening to destroy the very world he loved. He had been there to protect him from uncertainty, when he became lost to the growing remorse that piled on with every bullet that exited the chamber of his gun. Who was his protection now?
Within time he returned to the room with clothes painted in ruby and climbed somberly into the top bunk, giving in to the exhaustion that ached his body. Only when the room began to wreak did they bother him, letting him lean against their bodies as they guided him to the washroom. Andrei ushered the others out and took his time cleaning the skin soaked with red, looking up every once in a while at his brother in an attempt to comfort the distraught blue gaze.
“What did the note say?”
Avian had almost forgotten about it but he had read it in the dim light of the night. His chest rose and fell rapidly as another wave of tears burst the dam he had built up. “H-he wrote about how much he loves all of us, what each of us has taught him. Said, ‘Bury me with my favourite knife, you know the one.’ We’re not supposed to be burying him. Were not supposed to be burying him, Andrei!”
“I know. I know.” He brushed the hair back from Avian’s face that had slowly dampened and fell with the streaming water.
Avian’s tears had finally come to a stand still and he leaned back in the tub that was becoming stained. “How long until he comes for us? He knows where we are.” It was much more complicated than hunting them down and snuffing them out, Richard had a game to play with them. This was his time to enjoy them suffer in fear as he had done in the burning ashes of his base, waiting for the end in a world that would not give it to him.
“If he comes then so be it, we will be ready.”