Chapter Text
“I said…” the poor henchman barely had time to react as they were sent flying by the force of the swing directed towards them, a current of decay particles burning away at any bits of clothing and skin they came into contact with.
Damon jumped high into the air, Poludnitsa's energy ran through his body, hammer mode was engaged, two protrusions bursting from the trunk as Damon held it high above his head. “…out of my way!” With one single strike, the henchman went crashing into the ground, the decay particles along with the strength behind the swing leaving nothing but a bloody crater where the henchman’s body once was.
Bending his knees, Damon braced himself for the landing, once he touched the ground, he used the momentum he had to break into a sprint, using his smaller frame to maneuver around the other syndicate members, leaving the rest of the group he was traveling with to fend for themselves.
Even if it may gain him some stares and distasteful comments later, Damon had to make the most out of the energy burst the Poludnitsa was giving him at the moment. He already got the short end by being assigned such a power hungry trunk, he couldn’t afford getting any more Ahn deducted from his next paycheck.
“Poludnitsa, how are we doing on time?” Damon asked his trunk, after a few seconds, Poludnitsa answered. “Following this route leaves seventy two hours and five minutes for the delivery.” Satisfied with the answer, Damon leaned his body forward and continued his mad dash.
It was the late hours of the night, Desmond used his knife to quietly break the lock to the syndicate’s hideout. It was ultimately a low-rung backstreet’s group, not even relevant enough to warrant a name for themselves, yet they must have messed with the wrong people to have someone pay to wipe them off the face of The City.
“It’s way too quiet around here yawn I haven’t seen anyone-“ Ulysses commented before Eva raised a hand to shush him.
There was some truth to Ulysses' statement, they'd already walked a few steps into the hideout and there was not a sight of a single soul around. Desmond gripped his pistol tightly, he already had to cut the amount of ammo they could carry for this contract or else they’d have more expenses than profits, and they were already short on funds after a few unlucky missions where a few more bullets were missed for his liking.
“I’ll take the lead, you two stay behind.” Putting his gun away, Desmond changed to his knife, planning to scout out the front and get some silent kills before a fight breaks out.
As he turns around corners and checks through doors, Desmond’s anxiety grows further, the one thing keeping his nerves in check being the faint sound of Eva and Ulysses’ steps following behind him.
It all culminates when he hears a yelp coming from Ulysses and the familiar noise of gunfire breaking out. In a flash, Desmond comes back from where he came from.
“An ambush,” he thinks. He quickly assesses the situation in front of him, there is a significant number of syndicate members on the offensive, Eva’s left arm is trembling as she aims yet there’s no blood pouring out, most likely a blunt blow and if he recalls correctly, he heard five gunshots yet there were only two people dead on the floor, which meant that at least three shots either missed or didn’t strike true.
Desmond winced, already imagining the costs, ignoring his previous qualms, he pulled out his pistol again, they had to get this over fast. He shot three times and three people went down, before diving into the fray brandishing his two weapons.
It was one of those days where Desmond sat in the dining room of his apartment, several papers splayed out on the table as he did the painstaking task of figuring out how to spread his funds between paychecks, gun taxes, Hana taxes and buying more ammo while still somehow getting to keep some Ahn for his own expenses.
Even after changing his rifle for a pistol in order to change the more expensive rifle ammunition for the relatively cheaper pistol rounds he still struggled to make ends meet. The “One Shot, One Kill” rule he gave his companions was the one thing keeping him from going bankrupt and yet he was still mentally preparing himself to ask his landlord to give him more time to pay for the rent because he still needed to eat after all.
The door to the apartment clicked, and in came Damon, tired beyond belief, still wearing his Devyat uniform but having left his Poludnitsa back in one of the association warehouses.
Desmond stood up suddenly from his seat at the table, some papers ended up being blown away as he quickly went to greet Damon.
“Oh wings, Damon, you’re back.” The blonde had taken more days than he normally did when going out to work, and the anxiety for his boyfriend’s return had become another worry that piled up on Desmond’s shoulders.
Desmond quickly went in for a hug, but as soon as he wrapped his arms around Damon, the shorter man winced. A known downside to the energy that the Poludnitsa gave to its couriers was muscular pain and fatigue when exposed to it for long periods of time, and for Damon, who had been working for longer than usual, it was clear that his body was more than sore. “Desmond, please… I just need to lie down for now.” Desmond gave his boyfriend some space as Damon slowly removed the heavy Devyat jacket but before he made his way to their shared bedroom, Damon pulled out a stash of money and handed it to Desmond.
It was enough to cover the rest of Desmond’s Full-Stop expenses, the rent, amenities for a week and still have some left.
Desmond quickly filled out the rest of the paperwork before making his way to the bedroom. Damon was fast asleep, having already having removed the rest of his uniform.
Desmond sighed, he and Damon barely see each other these days, and the few times they are able to be together, either Damon is way too exhausted to do anything or Desmond is too busy with paperwork.
Desmond puts on more comfortable clothes and lays down besides his boyfriend. For a second he considers wrapping himself around Damon before remembering that both of them will probably wake up sore if they are tangled together in the morning.
It has become increasingly rare to see Damon so peaceful these days, Desmond still remembers the days before their jobs made it increasingly difficult to be in the same room as the other. Damon was studying to become a feather while Desmond had just kickstarted the Full-Stop office, those days, missing a few bullets was more of a temporary annoyance rather than the thing that defined wether he would be able to eat the next day.
It was one of those times Desmond was hunched over the table, at that moment it was only him and Eva working together and for the first time in his career as a fixer, Desmond was uncertain if he would be able to pay for rent.
That same night, Damon had barged into his apartment with the Devyat uniform and dropped a wad of cash in front of him. It was then that Desmond knew that, one, he would never leave this man, and two, he didn’t deserve him.
There was a reason the Devyat was known as the association for the desperate and the indebted. The job could pay good and it was relatively easy to get a license. But that was all ultimately because the association never expected its couriers to last in the long term.
For Damon to drop everything just for Desmond, it filled the marksman with a feeling he couldn’t quite point down. As thankful as he was for the constant support Damon gave him, it could never outweigh the anxiety it gave him knowing that at any moment Damon could die on the job and no one would know.
He wished they could both quit their fixer jobs and, as cheesy as it sounded, get a good house in a nice nest, hopefully in District 21, but he would be content with something like District 11. He knew that was wishful thinking, at least for the foreseeable future, and that the best he could hope for was for the both of them to remain alive and together.
For now, he treasured the present moment, for he knew that in this City, one must hold onto every precious moment, as life was a vicious one in here.