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“Alright, breathe Deimos. Slow and deep breaths, you made a mistake, easy as.” 2b murmured, sewing the wound shut, “Don’t need to panic…”
Deimos drew his head back in an accusatory snarl, “Mistake? Mistake- aw f-fuck you, asshole. I-“ he cleanly bit down on his lip, hissing at the painful sensation. “…right in the fuckin side, j-jesus…” he mumbled under his breath, head falling from the prideful glower he wore.
“I don’t even need a scan to see if your heart-rate is off the charts. We’ll get this sorted out once I sew your wound shut, understood?” Doc commanded, with that familiar authority and cool confidence. Deimos shot a scornful glance at 2b, who crouched by his side fixing up the severe stab wound he’d received not too long ago. He’d have been fine handling the situation, if it wasn’t for that horrifying bullet hole in the rear of their car then, or the terror of which there was a dead body in their trunk at the moment. Rotting, to no one’s hear but theirs.
“Disgusting…” 2b murmured, cutting the thread and carefully wiping the wound down with Deimos’ jacket. The ex-merc would have been one to complain if his whole body didn’t tremor like a 9.0 magnitude earthquake.
He swallowed thickly, pressing his back up against the car as soon as his friend backed off to go grab some gauze.
Two years after he’d been officially cleared of the sacrificial death duty of mercenary work, after moving back in with his former-ex, repairing his relationship with his former boss, building connections that meant well to him.
Deimos had now slaughtered an innocent man, somewhere off the north coast of their great lake, and he didn’t know quite what to do.
“H-he jus… came outta n-nowhere, and I acted in defense…” he slid down the side of the car, curling inwards on himself, “N-not how shit is supposed to go. I- I’m retired, you’re retired! There’s no goddamn fuckin’ red in the sky, so there’s no reason there should be any in our car!” Deimos hissed, wrapping his arms around his torso.
His heart raced, beating with a vigor which might kill a man. His lungs; spasming, incapable of maintaining a steady pace with how his throat attempted to choke him out anyways. Nothing focused nor worked right, not his eyes, not his voice, not his head, not the adrenaline pumping through his veins just like the first time he ever squeezed the ever living life out of another human being.
“I ain’t a killer, I didn’t kill anybody. I-I reacted in my defense Doc, y-you can’t tell me I…” he said whisper-yelled, “-fucked myself over..” he buried his head into his knees, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. Deimos wheezed with each breath, unable to wring out every vivid image. Whistling wind here, creaking bloody car, shivering breath- all mindless noise! Blood on his hands, glass on the floor, wheel in a fucking pothole- dead man in the fucking boot , what next, body in a grave?
The dirt crunched softly, rhythmically, until they stopped just beside him.
“Deimos.” came the murmur, far too close in his personal space.
He snarled as best as he could through hiccuping tremors.
“Deimos, I need you to look at me.” the voice repeated, remaining firm in its position beside him.
Wearily, Deimos looked up, meeting eyes with an expression almost unequal to that calm and collected tone it voiced. 2b’s eyes were largely dilated, shaking like a baby bird out of the nest. Subtly, Deimos could notice the quiet arhythmic movement of his chest, expressing an equal amount of distress as Deimos in the moment.
“We can do two things now… and I’ll give you my solid advice on which one I believe we should take.” 2b whispered, sitting down on the ground despite the glass peppered around the two.
Deimos listened unquestioningly, incapable of making any judgements of his own at the moment.
“We can either… turn ourselves in, and fight for a self-defense plea bargain. Giving us a minimum of five years, and parole if we behave.” 2b said, firmly clasping his own hands together and trying his best to maintain eye contact with Deimos.
Deimos chewed on his already busted lip, digging his bloodied nails into the skin of his knees.
2b cleared his throat, “Or, we can… clean ourselves up. Clean the scene, bury h-“ his eye’s wavered for a moment, “… the body someplace closer to the somewhere, change clothes and… clean the blood off of… everything.” 2b stated.
Deimos turned his eyes away shamefully, letting his hands fall to his side.
“…I would firmly advise the second. An initial incarceration may give way for formal war crime accusations… and that would guarantee life sentences.” Doc said, keeping eye contact.
The cloudy skies rumbled for a moment, a noisy breeze scratching at the ears of the two living, breathing people.
Deimos drew in a sharp breath, uncomfortably taking his visor off to push back his hair. “Even if we… do, get away with everything. Bodies, they’ll rot away all good- but… the gun.” He grumbled, glancing over to the open car door of which a bullet hole cleanly pierced some moments ago. “I’m not buryin’ the gun, if that’s what you expect from me.” The ex-merc sneered.
2bdamned furrowed his eyebrows, “ We can take it home. Border check doesn’t bother us, you know this, and if we clean the car well enough- I- we can cruise home, and blame it on a… a battle souvenir Hank got. Nobody’ll notice unless they’re looking for it. Which they’re not .”
Deimos snarled, turning to face 2bdamned. “Oh great, blame it on your husband wont’cha? Jesus.” He hissed, drawing in a sharp breath.
“I’m not blaming it on Hank.” 2b hissed back, immediately growing defensive. “He’ll work with us, I- he’ll cover with us, not like we need much cover anyways!” Doc balled his fists, “W-we made a mistake and we’ll fix it Deimos, just as I’ve always done.”
Deimos stood with a hiss, holding his stitched up wound. “We, we, us, we ! Like you’ll do shit , Doc!” he growled, directly eyeing the brace strapped to 2b’s legs. “Leave the dirty work to me and Hank, always. There IS no fuckin’ we , Doc. I fucked up, and I deal with it!” He glowered down at 2b.
Doc scowled. “There-…” he gripped the side of the car, “-.. is no ‘your problem ’ Deimos. I’ll be a goddamn accessory to murder too, if you haven’t noticed.” He said, holding onto the car for support. “And I don’t think your fucking indignity against my situation is going to keep either of us out of jail.” 2b adjusted his braces, dusting off the shards off his pant legs, having thankfully not been impaled.
Deimos scoffed, “Always you ain’t it? Save your skin, you can do no harm cuz your fuckin’ legs don’t wanna work anymore!”
2b curled his lip in offense, “Do not blame me for that goddamn dissonance menace’s influence . If I hadn’t had that exposure, none—“
“-of us would be alive! Gee, thanks hero! Now who’s gonna save the man I just slaughtered in cold fuckin’ blood?!” Deimos stepped forward, challengingly.
“No one! No one is gonna fucking save him!” 2b yelled back. “And you need to get over that fucking fact Deimos! No one you have ever killed will magically come back and forgive you for the fucking brutality of which you delivered!” He snarled, stepping forward just as challengingly.
Deimos stepped back, maintaining an expression of anger despite his apparent suprise at 2b’s first genuine outburst.
2b went on, fuming. “You think it’s easy for me to say, fine, bury him, leave him, move on? You think it’s fucking dandy that every day, I have to live knowing I sent so many out there to do the bidding I wouldn’t do? I’m not guiltless , Deimos. I’ve been dreading my own fucking suicide for half a year, and you wonder why Hank wouldn’t let anyone talk to me then?” He poked Deimos in the chest harshly.
“Fine, if you don’t want to be civil with me. But I want my fucking happy ending, and I’m not letting your petty sacrificial guilt obstruct me from living the rest of my damned days out with the people I love.” He hissed, breathing heavily.
2b stalked away, opening the car boot despite his own staggering walk, and the beep of his heart monitor strapped on his left upper-arm.
Deimos stood there, shaking just as vigorously as he did at the start, before following after 2b with a disdainful glower. With this man, they buried what solace there was of their relationship, too.