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Johnny Cage knew something was wrong the moment Kenshi froze mid-conversation. One second, they’d been hashing out logistics for his next movie— "Shadow Ninja IV," working title— and the next, Kenshi looked like he’d been hit by a freight train. Or like someone had told him hot dogs are just meat smoothies in a bun, which Johnny definitely hadn’t done before. Not recently, anyway.
Johnny leaned forward on the couch, fingers brushing the handle of his coffee mug. It sat precariously on top of a stack of scripts he hadn’t even pretended to skim. The liquid inside had gone a gross sort of lukewarm, but he took a sip anyway, if only to look natural— one of his worst performances to date, if he was being honest.
"Kenshi? You good?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, though his eyes stayed locked on the other man. Kenshi didn’t answer. His brows furrowed, lips pulling tight in that way that always made Johnny think of a storm brewing—quiet, deliberate, the kind of thing you didn’t want to stand (or sit, in his case) too close to.
Johnny sighed, setting the mug back down with a faint clink just to have something to do. "Hey, buddy," he tried again, snapping his fingers. "Earthrealm to Kenshi. You’ve gone full zen on me."
Finally, Kenshi inhaled sharply, like someone had yanked him out of deep water. His shoulders stiffened as he straightened. "It’s Takeda," he said, voice low and tight like the words physically hurt to say.
Johnny blinked, his stomach dropping. Takeda. The name hit harder than he expected, though it shouldn’t have. Johnny liked the kid. Hell, anyone who spent five minutes with Takeda liked the kid. He was solid and steady in a way that Kenshi never stopped being proud of, even if he didn’t say it out loud.
Johnny reached for his mug again, then stopped. No, too casual. His hands hovered awkwardly before he shoved them into his jacket pockets. "What about him?"
Kenshi’s face didn’t move, but his stillness was sharper than any reaction Johnny could’ve expected. "I heard him," Kenshi said, tone clipped. "The Black Dragon. They’ve taken him."
Johnny winced— the Black Dragon . The name alone was enough to make his skin crawl. Kano and his merry band of sociopaths. Not exactly a reunion anyone wanted.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of the coffee table. “Alright,” he started, words tumbling out as fast as his thoughts. “We’re gonna need backup. Someone who knows how the Black Dragon operates. Someone who’s dealt with them before. Someone like…” His voice trailed off. He stopped pacing.
Kenshi raised an eyebrow. “Like who?”
Johnny turned to him, trying to keep his expression light, like he hadn’t just walked face-first into a brick wall of awkward memories. “Sonya Blade,” he said, forcing a grin that felt more like a grimace.
Kenshi didn’t react immediately, which somehow made it worse. He just stood there, perfectly still, the silence between them stretching out like it had been tailor-made to make Johnny sweat.
Finally, Kenshi spoke, his voice as calm and even as always. “You think she’ll help?”
“Sure,” Johnny said, the word coming out too fast, too loud. He cleared his throat. “I mean, probably. She’s not exactly my biggest fan, but she’s a pro. If it’s about taking down the Black Dragon, she’ll step up.”
Kenshi tilted his head, his lips twitching like he was deciding whether or not to let the sarcasm fly. “Didn’t she punch you the last time you saw her?”
Johnny smirked, though it felt more defensive than usual. “Details, details. That was ages ago. She probably doesn’t even remember.”
Kenshi’s brow arched higher. “You really believe that?”
Johnny opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Okay, fine. No. But she’ll listen. She’s got to.” He clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension in the room—or trying to, anyway. “Let’s go pay her a visit. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Kenshi didn’t answer, but the look he gave Johnny said plenty. This is on you.
Johnny had barely grabbed his car keys before second-guessing himself. He could already hear her sharp tone— A hundred times over— and feel the laser precision of her judgment. Sonya was their best shot. If anyone could pull this off, it was her.
Her house was unassuming, normal in a way that almost made Johnny relax— until they parked. Johnny leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms like that might keep him there. “Okay, just so we’re clear,” he said, side-eyeing Kenshi. “You’re handling the introductions. I’m just here to smile and make bad jokes.”
Kenshi tilted his head, barely sparing Johnny a glance. “You’re stalling.”
Johnny threw up his hands, exasperated. “Yeah, well, sue me for not loving the idea of getting my ego handed to me before lunch.”
Kenshi was already out of the car before Johnny finished talking, and Johnny let out a long groan as he followed. Lion’s den, here we go.
Kenshi knocked first— sharp and deliberate, the kind of knock that said serious business . Johnny winced at the sound, already imagining Sonya’s reaction. “Great. Nothing like kicking things off with the warmth of a tax collector.”
Kenshi shot him a look that said do you ever stop talking? before settling into his usual, unshakable calm. Johnny, meanwhile, rocked on his heels, practicing a grin he hoped was charming enough to deflect at least one incoming insult.
The door swung open with all the ceremony of a hurricane, and there she was: Sonya Blade, still terrifyingly cool under pressure. Her sharp green eyes swept over Kenshi first, then landed on Johnny with all the enthusiasm of someone spotting a cockroach in their kitchen.
“Cage.” Her tone was flat, just shy of bored. “Takahashi.”
“Sonya,” Johnny said, leaning against the doorframe with practiced ease. “Looking good. The whole dangerous recluse vibe suits you.”
Her expression didn’t so much as twitch. “What do you want?”
“Ah, straight to the point,” Johnny replied, holding up his hands like she’d caught him red-handed. “Love that about you. But we’re here on business. Big, messy, save-the-world kind of business. You in?”
Sonya’s eyes narrowed slightly—just enough to let Johnny know he wasn’t winning any points. “Why are you here?”
Kenshi, mercifully, stepped in before Johnny could bury himself any deeper. “We need your help,” he said, his tone steady. “The Black Dragon has Takeda.”
That did it. Sonya’s expression hardened; not in the cold, indifferent way Johnny expected, but with a flicker of something deeper. She didn’t ask for details, didn’t question the story. Instead, she stepped back, jerking her head toward the interior of the house. “Get in.”
Johnny blinked, caught off guard by how fast she moved. “Wow. No threats? No snide comments? Guess I really am growing on you.”
Sonya gave him a sidelong look as he stepped past her. “Keep talking, and you’ll find out exactly how much I’ve missed you.”
Kenshi, who had already moved inside, glanced at Johnny with the faintest hint of a smirk. Johnny sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he followed. “See, this is why I need a PR team. Nobody appreciates my genius.”
The inside of Sonya’s house was as no-nonsense as she was— functional, spotless, and completely devoid of personality. Tactical gear hung neatly on hooks by the door, and a table in the corner was covered with maps and intel. It wasn’t a home; it was a war room.
Johnny lingered by the doorway, taking it all in. “Cozy,” he quipped. “Bet you’re the life of the HOA meetings.”
Sonya ignored him, arms crossing as she turned to face them. “Alright,” she said, cutting straight to business. “Start talking.”
Kenshi stepped forward, calm and steady as ever. “The Black Dragon has Takeda. We need your help.”
Sonya’s jaw tightened, her sharp green eyes locking onto Kenshi’s. “When?”
“Not long ago,” Kenshi replied. “I heard him through the bond. He’s alive, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”
Her expression darkened, and for a moment, Johnny swore he saw something almost... personal flash across her face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by her usual unshakable focus. “And you’re sure it’s the Black Dragon?”
“Positive,” Kenshi said firmly.
Sonya nodded once, sharp and decisive. “Then we’re not wasting time.”
She moved to the table in the corner, pulling a map from the stack and spreading it out with military precision. Johnny followed at a safe distance, his usual bravado tempered by the shift in atmosphere.
“Alright, Blade,” he said, leaning against the edge of the table with what he hoped was casual charm. “What’s the plan? Kick down the door, take out the bad guys, rescue the kid? Classic hero stuff?”
Sonya gave him a sidelong glance. “The plan is to not die. You think you can manage that?”
Johnny grinned, placing a hand over his heart. “For you? Always.”
Her expression didn’t change, but Johnny caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Progress.
Kenshi, standing just behind him, cleared his throat. “We don’t have time for this.”
Sonya’s attention snapped back to the map. “He’s right. If they’ve got Takeda, they’ll move him soon. They don’t like keeping liabilities in one place.” She tapped a spot on the map, her tone turning clinical. “This is their most likely base. Remote, heavily fortified, but not impossible to breach.”
Johnny leaned closer, scanning the layout. “Remote, huh? Bet the Wi-Fi sucks. Guess that’s one way to keep your henchmen in line.”
Sonya didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she grabbed a file and handed it to Kenshi. “If you’re in, we leave in an hour. Gear up, stay sharp, and do exactly what I say. Got it?”
“Scout’s honor,” Johnny said, miming a salute.
Her eyes narrowed, though there was a flicker of something resembling amusement. “Just try not to get yourself killed out there, alright?”
Johnny opened the file Sonya handed to Kenshi, flipping through the neatly organized pages. “Man, you really don’t do anything halfway, do you?” he muttered, eyes scanning photos of the compound and detailed notes about security protocols. “Do you sleep with a filing cabinet next to your bed?”
Sonya ignored him, pulling open a cabinet to retrieve a few pieces of gear. “If you’re done commenting on my work ethic, there’s a tactical vest in the hall closet that might fit you,” she said, not looking up. “Assuming you’re not planning on showing up in leather pants and a tank top.”
“Hey, that’s a classic look,” Johnny shot back, but he was already heading toward the closet. “Not all of us can pull off ‘action movie minimalist.’”
“Some of us have priorities,” she said, deadpan, as she handed Kenshi a comm device and a spare utility belt.
Kenshi gave her a small nod of thanks, checking over the gear with practiced efficiency. “This location,” he said, tapping the map on the table. “How solid is the intel?”
“Solid enough to act on,” Sonya replied, her tone clipped. “It’s not their main base, but it’s one of their bigger operations. They’ve been using it to store high-value hostages and equipment. If Takeda’s there, we’ll know quickly.”
Johnny returned, now wearing the tactical vest over his signature jacket. “Okay, I’m geared up. What’s next? Secret handshake? Pep talk? Or do we just charge in guns blazing?”
Sonya raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re doing recon, not starring in an action flick. Try to keep the explosions to a minimum.”
Johnny smirked. “You say that now, but when this all goes south, you’ll be glad I brought the flair.”
“I won’t,” she replied, turning her attention back to Kenshi. “We’ll approach from the south. There’s an access point here—” she pointed to the map, tracing a line with her finger— “that leads to a service tunnel. It’s narrow, but it’ll get us inside without triggering the main defenses.”
Kenshi nodded again. “And once we’re inside?”
Sonya’s expression hardened. “Once we’re inside, we get Takeda out. Quick and clean.”
“Quick and clean,” Johnny repeated with a grin, grabbing a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket and sliding them on. “My specialty.”
Sonya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If you get us killed, Cage, I swear I’m haunting you.”
“Haunt away, sweetheart,” he said, tipping the glasses down just enough to wink at her. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
“Enough,” Kenshi said, his voice firm but not unkind. He slid the map into the pocket of his coat and adjusted his sword at his side. “We’re wasting time.”
Sonya nodded, snapping the last clasp on her gear. “You’re right. Let’s move.”
She strode toward the door with purpose, her movements sharp and precise. Kenshi followed, file tucked neatly under his arm and his steps deliberate. His expression remained calm, unshakable as ever. Johnny lingered just long enough to scan the tactical layout one last time—not because he needed to, but because it gave him an excuse to speak.
“You’ve got to admire someone who can juggle world-saving and being this terrifying.” Johnny said, falling into step behind Kenshi with a lopsided grin.
Kenshi didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of a smirk crossed his face as they followed Sonya out into the cold, dark night.
“I’m just saying,” Johnny started, his voice breaking the silence. “This whole thing’s got ‘blockbuster potential.’ Kidnappings, underground lairs, dramatic rescues—it’s like the script’s writing itself.”
Kenshi glanced over his shoulder but didn’t slow down. “Let’s hope you’re better at improvising than writing,” he said evenly.
Johnny clutched his chest in mock offense. “Low blow, man. And here I thought we were bonding.”
Sonya didn’t even glance back. “If you’re done auditioning, Cage, you might want to focus. We’re approaching the main road.”
Johnny rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “I am focused. On not freezing my ass off, but sure, let’s call that multitasking.”
The tactical van loomed ahead, parked just out of sight from any passing cars. Sonya tossed the keys to Kenshi, who caught them effortlessly. “You’re driving,” she said.
Johnny raised a hand in protest. “Wait, hold on. Why does he get to drive? I’ve got years of experience dodging paparazzi. That’s gotta count for something.”
Sonya shot him a flat look. “This isn’t a red carpet. Kenshi’s the better driver.”
Kenshi opened the driver’s side door without a word, his expression calm as ever. Johnny groaned but climbed into the backseat, grumbling as he strapped in.
As the van pulled onto the road, the atmosphere inside settled into a tense quiet. Sonya pulled out the map again, tracing the route with her finger while Kenshi navigated with precision.
Johnny, never one for silence, leaned forward from the back. “So, Blade, how many Black Dragon bases have you busted in your career? Gotta be, what, triple digits by now?”
Sonya didn’t look up. “Enough to know how they operate.”
Johnny smirked. “Translation: I’ve lost count.”
Her tone sharpened. “Translation: I don’t waste time on unnecessary chatter.”
Kenshi’s voice cut in before Johnny could reply. “We’re five minutes out.”
The announcement shifted the mood instantly. Sonya folded the map with practiced efficiency, tucking it into her gear. Johnny leaned back, finally quiet for a moment, though his foot tapped an impatient rhythm against the floor.
As they neared their destination, the van slowed to a crawl, the headlights dimming to avoid detection. Sonya motioned for them to pull off onto a narrow dirt path, where the van came to a stop.
“Alright,” she said, her voice low but firm. “This is where we go on foot. Stay close, stay quiet, and follow my lead. Got it?”
Johnny gave a mock salute, though his usual grin was noticeably subdued. “You’re the boss.”
Sonya opened the back doors, stepping out into the night with purpose. Kenshi followed, his movements deliberate and composed. Johnny lingered just a moment, his gaze flicking between the two before he hopped out, landing softly on the dirt road.
The dark forest ahead seemed to stretch endlessly, the trees casting long shadows under the faint moonlight. Johnny adjusted his gear, falling into step behind Sonya and Kenshi as they moved toward the Black Dragon’s hidden base.
For once, he didn’t crack a joke.
The forest pressed in on them, a thick silence broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of machinery. Sonya led the way, moving like a shadow, her sharp gestures keeping them in sync. Kenshi followed, his steps as soundless as his expression was resolute. Johnny, bringing up the rear, was doing his best to not stand out—a feat he found increasingly difficult with every snapping twig under his boots.
Sonya stopped abruptly, holding up a fist. “Two guards southeast, one patrol looping north every three minutes,” she murmured. “Service tunnel’s behind the clearing.”
Johnny squinted at the darkness ahead. He could make out faint shapes—guards, maybe—but the details were lost to him. He shifted closer to Kenshi, leaning in. “Okay, but how are we handling this? Silent ninja takedown, or am I doing the distraction thing?”
“Neither,” Sonya said without looking back. “You’re staying here.”
Johnny froze. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.” Her tone was calm, controlled, and utterly final. “You’re too loud, Cage. Kenshi and I will handle this.”
Kenshi didn’t bother to defend him, simply adjusting his sword at his side. “She’s right,” he said evenly.
“Unbelievable,” Johnny muttered, leaning back against a tree. “I’m getting benched. Again.”
“You can take it up with HR later,” Sonya said, already moving toward the clearing with Kenshi close behind.
Johnny watched them disappear into the shadows, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He let out a long breath, tilting his head back to stare at the faint stars above. “Benched,” he repeated under his breath, the word tasting like defeat.
But then his gaze shifted, catching the faintest flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Something was wrong—just enough to make his pulse quicken. He glanced back at the clearing, a knot forming in his stomach.
Sonya and Kenshi were already out of sight.
Johnny’s hand brushed the comm link clipped to his vest. Stay put, her voice echoed in his head. But as his instincts screamed at him, he found himself murmuring, “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
He straightened, muscles coiled and ready, and slipped into the shadows after them.
The faint crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound as Johnny trailed behind, careful to stay just out of earshot. The forest seemed to stretch endlessly, shadows shifting and twisting with every step. He cursed himself for not packing quieter boots— tactical gear really wasn’t his thing.
Ahead, he caught the faint glow of a flashlight beam cutting through the trees. Sonya and Kenshi moved with practiced ease, slipping between patches of cover like they were part of the shadows themselves. Johnny, on the other hand, relied on sheer luck and what he liked to call selective athleticism —and even that was pushing it.
“Okay, Cage,” he muttered under his breath, glancing around. “Play it cool. You’re just the backup. Backup doesn’t get caught.”
He pressed his back against a tree as one of the guards passed dangerously close, the beam of the flashlight brushing just past his foot. He held his breath, heart pounding in his ears. The guard paused, turning slightly, and Johnny’s fingers twitched toward the combat knife strapped to his vest.
But then the guard shrugged and moved on, and Johnny exhaled silently, mouthing a relieved thank you, universe as he slipped further into the trees.
From his position, he had a clear view of the clearing Sonya had mentioned. The service tunnel’s entrance was a small, unassuming grate set into the ground, surrounded by waist-high fencing. Two guards stood nearby, their attention split between half-hearted conversation and the occasional scan of the area. No sign of Sonya or Kenshi.
Johnny frowned, his unease growing. They should’ve taken the guards out by now. He adjusted his comm link, hesitating before whispering, “Hey, Blade. Kenshi. You guys good?”
Static answered him, followed by the faintest hiss of movement from the other side of the clearing. A moment later, Sonya materialized behind the guards, her movements precise and silent. Kenshi followed, his sword drawn but not yet striking.
Johnny smirked, leaning against a tree to watch. Classic heroes. No room for flair. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his sunglasses and sliding them on for good measure.
But then something shifted. One of the guards stiffened, his hand flying to his earpiece. Sonya moved instantly, grabbing the guard and yanking him back into the shadows, but the other guard was already spinning, gun raised.
Johnny didn’t think. He moved.
A rock landed with a loud crack just behind the guard, and the man turned instinctively, giving Sonya the opening she needed. She struck fast, disarming him with a swift kick and slamming him into the ground with a grunt. Kenshi was already on the first guard, his sword flashing once before the man dropped, unconscious.
“Textbook,” Johnny said, stepping into the clearing and spreading his arms wide. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Sonya’s glare could’ve melted steel. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass, obviously.” He tapped his sunglasses, grinning. “You didn’t think I was gonna sit this one out, did you?”
Kenshi sighed, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. “You’re impossible.”
Johnny winked. “And yet, here I am. Let’s not dwell on the how. ”
Sonya rolled her eyes, jerking her head toward the tunnel entrance. “Fine. You’re here. Just stay out of the way.”
“Way ahead of you, sweetheart,” Johnny said, falling into step behind her.
Sonya didn’t respond, but Johnny swore he saw her shoulders tense just slightly. Kenshi, walking beside him, shot him a sidelong glance. “You’re lucky you didn’t get us killed.”
“Lucky’s kind of my thing,” Johnny replied, grinning. “Now, let’s save the kid.”
The tunnel stretched on longer than Johnny expected, the faint echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the damp walls. Sonya led the way, her movements confident and deliberate, while Kenshi kept to the middle, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his katana. Johnny, bringing up the rear, felt the weight of the silence pressing down on him.
“You know,” Johnny started, his voice cutting through the stillness, “this would be a lot less creepy if someone would whistle or hum or something. Ever heard of ambiance?”
Sonya glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. “Ever heard of staying quiet on a stealth mission?”
“Hey, I’m just saying,” Johnny muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “A little mood lighting wouldn’t hurt either.”
Kenshi’s voice cut through, low and measured. “Focus, Johnny.”
Johnny rolled his eyes but didn’t press further. Instead, his gaze wandered to Sonya, watching the way she moved with such precise efficiency. It was... impressive. She wasn’t just a soldier; she was a force of nature. And Kenshi? Kenshi had that quiet, commanding presence that made Johnny’s usual bravado feel almost unnecessary. Almost.
“You two ever think about switching to something a little less life-threatening?” Johnny asked, his tone lighter now. “I hear desk jobs are all the rage these days.”
Sonya snorted—a tiny, unexpected sound that made Johnny’s grin widen. “I’d last about five minutes behind a desk.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Johnny replied. “You’d be firing paperclips at anyone who so much as looked at you funny.”
Kenshi’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “And you, Cage? What’s your excuse for sticking around?”
Johnny hesitated, the grin faltering just a little. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for high-stakes drama.”
Sonya shot him a look, her expression softening for just a fraction of a second before she turned back to the tunnel ahead. “At least you’re honest.”
They walked on in relative silence after that, the tension between them easing slightly. It wasn’t exactly camaraderie, but it was something.
As they reached the end of the tunnel, the faint sound of voices filtered through the narrow space. Sonya raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “This is it. Stay sharp.”
Johnny nodded, his hand already on his pistol. He caught Kenshi’s eye and gave a small, lopsided grin. “Guess it’s showtime.”
Kenshi inclined his head, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Stay close. No unnecessary risks.”
“Aw, you do care,” Johnny teased, though his voice was quieter now. There was a flicker of something behind Kenshi’s calm demeanor, but before Johnny could dwell on it, Sonya gestured for them to move forward.
The space opened up into a wide chamber, dimly lit by flickering industrial lights. Crates were stacked haphazardly along the walls, and a handful of Black Dragon operatives milled about, armed and on edge. Sonya crouched low, scanning the area with practiced precision.
“There,” she whispered, pointing to a corner where Takeda was bound to a chair, his head slumped forward. “He’s alive.”
Johnny felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of determination. “Alright,” he murmured. “What’s the play?”
Sonya’s eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation. “We split up. Kenshi and I will handle the guards. Johnny, you get Takeda out.”
Kenshi glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’re trusting him with extraction?”
Sonya’s lips quirked in a faint smirk. “For all his faults, Cage knows how to make an exit.”
Johnny placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I’m touched, really. But don’t get too sappy on me, Blade.”
The plan unfolded in a blur.
Sonya moved first, slipping through the shadows like a ghost, her movements almost too fast to follow. Kenshi followed close behind, his katana gleaming faintly in the dim light. Johnny lingered just long enough to watch them disappear into the fray before making his way toward Takeda.
He kept low, weaving through the maze of crates with surprising grace for someone who claimed stealth wasn’t his thing. The guards were too distracted by Sonya and Kenshi’s calculated assault to notice Johnny creeping toward the corner where Takeda was slumped.
Takeda looked worse for wear—bruises blooming across his face, his wrists chafed raw from the restraints. But he was breathing, and that was enough for Johnny to work with.
“Hey, kid,” Johnny whispered, crouching down beside him. “Rise and shine. Your knight in shining armor has arrived.”
Takeda stirred, his head lifting just enough to reveal bleary eyes. “Cage?” His voice was hoarse, barely audible over the chaos erupting behind them.
“The one and only,” Johnny replied, his tone light despite the tension coiling in his chest. “Hold still. Let me get these off you.”
The bindings around Takeda’s wrists were thick, industrial-grade, but Johnny managed to work them loose with some effort. He caught a glimpse of Kenshi and Sonya out of the corner of his eye—Sonya was dismantling a guard with brutal efficiency, while Kenshi moved with a precision that was almost poetic. It was… impressive, not that Johnny would admit it out loud.
“Can you walk?” Johnny asked, slipping an arm under Takeda’s to help him stand.
“Yeah,” Takeda rasped, though he swayed dangerously the moment he was on his feet.
“Great. Let’s get you out of here before your dad and Sonya start blowing things up.” Johnny paused, glancing back toward the fight. “On second thought, maybe we should pick up the pace.”
Across the room, Kenshi cut down the last guard with a fluid strike, his katana singing as it sliced through the air. He turned to Sonya, who was reloading her pistol with practiced ease. “They’re clear,” he said, nodding toward the corner where Johnny was guiding Takeda toward the exit.
Sonya’s eyes flicked to the pair, her sharp gaze softening for just a moment before she nodded. “Good. Let’s move before backup shows.”
They regrouped at the edge of the compound, slipping through the service tunnel just as the sound of distant voices and heavy boots began to echo from the main hall.
“Not bad, huh?” Johnny said as they emerged into the cold night air, his breath visible in the faint moonlight. “Maybe I’m not just a pretty face after all.”
Sonya shot him a look, though it lacked her usual bite. “Quick and clean would’ve been thirty seconds faster.”
“Details, details,” Johnny replied, his grin never faltering.
Kenshi, who was half-carrying Takeda now, gave Johnny a sidelong glance. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not when I’ve got an audience,” Johnny shot back. “Admit it, you’d miss me if I stopped.”
Sonya sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Let’s get back to the safe house before I start questioning my life choices.”
The safe house was tucked away in a secluded corner of the forest, a small, nondescript cabin that looked like it had seen better days. Sonya moved ahead to clear the space while Kenshi helped Takeda inside, settling him on the worn couch.
Johnny followed, shedding his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. “Home sweet home,” he quipped, though the tension in his shoulders hadn’t quite eased.
“Cage,” Sonya said, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Make yourself useful. Grab the med kit.”
Johnny raised his hands in mock surrender. “Bossy. I like it.” But he moved to comply, retrieving the kit from a cabinet near the door.
Kenshi was already tending to Takeda, his hands steady as he inspected the younger man’s injuries. “You’re lucky,” Kenshi murmured, his tone softer than Johnny had ever heard. “They didn’t have time to do worse.”
Takeda managed a weak smile. “Guess I take after you.”
Kenshi’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took the med kit from Johnny with a quiet nod of thanks.
Johnny leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold. There was something about the way they moved, the way they worked together, that felt... right. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, this had started to feel less like a mission and more like a partnership. A weird, dysfunctional partnership, sure, but a partnership nonetheless.
Sonya caught his eye, her expression unreadable. “What?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Johnny shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nothing. Just thinking we make a pretty good team.”
Sonya huffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” Johnny replied, winking at her.
Kenshi glanced up, his gaze flicking between them before settling back on Takeda. The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I’d say we’ve earned a break.”
The air was thick with silence as they stood outside the wreckage of the compound. Takeda was safe, albeit bruised, leaning against Kenshi for support while the younger man muttered quiet reassurances. Sonya, efficient as always, was already coordinating an extraction team on her comms. Johnny, for once, wasn’t cracking jokes—mostly because he was too busy thinking of the right ones.
He watched Kenshi steady Takeda, his hand firm on the kid’s shoulder, his expression soft in a way Johnny didn’t see often. It hit him harder than expected, like a sucker punch to the gut, and for once, it wasn’t annoying.
“You okay?” Kenshi asked, his tone calm, as if sensing Johnny’s eyes on him.
Johnny blinked, pulling himself together. “Me? Oh, totally. Just wondering how you keep your hair looking that perfect mid-battle. Like, seriously, do you have a deal with the wind or something?”
Kenshi gave him a look—half exasperation, half fond. “You’re bleeding,” he said instead, gesturing to the thin gash on Johnny’s forearm.
Johnny followed Kenshi’s gaze and shrugged. “Eh, adds character. The scars are what sell the action hero vibe.”
“Right,” Kenshi said, his tone dry, but there was something warmer in the way he stepped closer, his fingers brushing over Johnny’s wrist. “You should let Sonya patch that up.”
Johnny didn’t miss the way Kenshi’s touch lingered, or the way his voice softened at the edges. He glanced up, meeting Kenshi’s gaze head-on, a grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe I like your bedside manner better.”
Kenshi’s lips twitched, a smile threatening to break through his calm exterior. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are,” Johnny shot back, his grin widening. “Guess I’m doing something right.”
Sonya’s voice interrupted before Kenshi could reply. “Alright, lovebirds, focus. We’ve got a debrief in an hour, and I’m not about to explain to HQ why the world’s dumbest action star bled out on my watch.”
“Lovebirds?” Johnny repeated, spinning on his heel to face her. “Oh, I see how it is, Blade. Can’t resist me after all, huh?”
Sonya leveled him with a glare that could’ve melted steel. “I can resist plenty, Cage. Get moving before I change my mind about saving your sorry ass.”
Kenshi, ever the peacemaker, gave Johnny a nudge toward the transport. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Push my luck?” Johnny scoffed, sliding into the seat with a flourish. “My luck’s un-pushable. It’s pure, untouchable gold, baby.”
As Sonya climbed into the transport, Takeda resting against her with a faint smile of his own, Johnny leaned back in his seat. His eyes darted between Kenshi and Sonya, their presence steady, grounding. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like the odd one out.
Instead of a joke, Johnny let out a quiet laugh, glancing at Kenshi beside him. “You know,” he said, his voice lighter now, “this whole team thing isn’t half bad. Not that I’d ever admit it on camera, of course.”
Kenshi looked at him, something unreadable in his expression before it softened. “It’s not so bad.”
“Careful, Kenshi,” Johnny teased, the grin returning. “You keep saving my ass like this, and I might actually fall for you.”
Kenshi didn’t answer with words, but his hand brushed against Johnny’s again, deliberate this time. It was small, barely a gesture, but it was enough.
Sonya, catching the exchange, rolled her eyes but said nothing. Instead, she leaned back, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “About time,” she muttered under her breath, loud enough for Johnny to hear.
Johnny’s grin widened. “Oh, Blade, if you wanted in, you could’ve just said so.”
Her response was immediate, sharp as ever. “Not in a million years, Cage.”
Johnny leaned back in his seat with a grin, his hand brushing Kenshi’s briefly before he let it rest on his knee. “Guess I’ll just have to settle for Kenshi, then. Poor me.”
This time, it was Kenshi who smiled, his usual calm tinged with warmth. “Poor you,” he echoed, his voice low, almost teasing.
Johnny’s laughter filled the cabin, light and unrestrained, as the transport carried them away from the wreckage— together, as something new and wholly theirs.