Three

Neither of them knew what town they were in, only that they'd found a bar that didn't need or care about a card to let them in to drink. The party was raging, energy flowing as freely as the booze and Martin felt it fill him up. It was easier now than when he'd been younger. He hadn't known how to feed off of the excess so that it did anything more than keep him from completely starving to death. It wasn't that he and Gripps wouldn't need to actually feed sooner or later, but they'd figure that out when they got there. For now, this was perfect.

Music surrounded them, a band playing live from the stage, and Martin tilted back his plastic cup to swallow the last contents before turning to start for the bar for a refill. He bounced to the music and made it halfway there before slamming to a stop, a smell hitting him as hard as a fist to the face. Fear mixed with anger. Not the typical kind though, like from someone normal. His blue gaze swept the busy room, zeroing in on Gripps. He was fine, happily drinking and bobbing to the music and completely oblivious to the fact that the gorgeous woman drinking with him was trying to flirt. The emotions hadn't come from him over their link, so who?

Then he saw it. A group was surrounding a scrawny, angry kid. He was all dark hair and tan skin, snarling at one of the guys as he was pushed to the other side of the circle and was almost immediately shoved back. He lost his footing as one of the leather clad bullies hauled him up by the front of his jacket and Martin realized his feet had carried him over to the whole scene while he'd been focused in. "Hey," he growled and as the man abusing the kid turned Martin swung, knocking him hard in the jaw.

He felt Gripps react immediately, moving to join what was about to escalate. Martin dodged back as the guy he'd just punched tried to return the favour and grinned as the others looked like they were going to jump him at once. "You wanna hurt somebody?" he asked them, teeth bared in an excitable growl. "Me too. Let's go."

Several lunged at him and Martin felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. One guy took him off his feet, but he used the momentum to roll back, his knees pulled up so that he got a heavy boot between one attacker and himself and propelled him on over the rest of the way. He rocked back, jumping to his feet, and Gripps already had a broken chair for a weapon.

The kid was already back in the mix, fighting with better odds now that it wasn't five on one. He dodged and rolled and Martin couldn't help but feel something strange tugging at the back of his mind. He ignored it as best as he could, focusing instead on the man that could have easily been twice his weight and a good six inches taller than his own six foot. He looked up, tilted his head a little to the side, and took a swing. The punch landed, but it didn't do a lot of good, and the man grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and hauled him into a table hard enough to break it. Martin lay there for half a beat, stunned, before a laugh escaped him and he exploded to his feet, grabbing one of the broken legs of the table, and ready for another round.

Martin swung hard, landing the hit against the man's arm as he tried to shield his face and he howled in pain, anger laced with confusion and a little bit of fear sluffing off of him and Martin soaked it up and swung again.

This helped more than he knew it could. Every day since they'd driven away from the home that his mother had supposedly been kept in Martin had felt Gripps tugging at him, hoping that he'd share the burden. He hadn't. He wouldn't. There were a lot of things they shared. They were brothers, after all, and family shared a lot, but this… the pain of killing his own mother was his own and no one was going to be able to take that for him. Beating the hell out of a guy that had been ready to pummel a kid was helping though.

A quick glance to the side showed that the kid was still holding his own though. He just needed some backup was all. A sharp pull at him caused him to look the other way and he saw Gripps motioning to where several others had joined. "Ten more. Seems about right," Martin chuckled and Gripps grinned at him and the two jumped in together.

They battered around, dodging and tossing men between them. Their laughter echoed as Gripps sent one guy stumbling and Martin leap frogged over him, slamming his head hard into the floor and he thought he even saw a tooth go sliding across. The blond lost his footing, though, and stumbled back against one of the few tables in the corner still intact. He saw the man rushing him, but he was caught before he ever reached him with a bar stool leg to the middle, knocking the wind out of him and sending him hard to the floor. It should have been Gripps, ready to react to their link to help protect Martin just as surely as his brother would have done the same for him, but instead Martin saw the dark haired kid that had been the center of the whole scuffle standing there, twirling the chunk of wood smugly, and the kid looked up with a shit eating grin. Martin blinked hard, his breath caught short with a strange jolt, and he saw the teenager's expression shift to utter confusion.

There wasn't time.

"Watch your back!" Martin yelled, but he was still too far away.

The kid turned, eyes wide, and he was taken down to the floor by his attacker. He landed hard, the larger man on top of him, but then there was a buzz of energy that Martin knew well. It was subtle, but at just the right angle Martin could see the blue tinge of energy flowing from the man towards the kid. He was like them. He was feeding off the man.

In a smooth motion Martin leaned over and hauled the man away, the kid immediately cutting off the flow. He was dazed, but not hurt, and Martin tossed him aside like a ragdoll. "C'mon. Cop's are here."

"Shit," the kid swore and accepted the hand up. "You saw-"

"Outside," Martin growled and he gave a sharp whistle, bringing Gripps to their side.

The entire bar was in chaos by then. The band had stopped playing and no one knew who was fighting who. Tables were in shambles, chairs everywhere and in pieces, and Martin and Gripps were all but hauling the kid out between them as subtly as they knew how. They landed in the parking lot of the bar while the police were going through the front. They rounded the corner into the back alleyway before all three stopped, breathing hard and laughing together. Martin pulled a pack of cigarettes out and found one that was, miraculously, not broken from the fight. He put it between his lips and lit it, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs and exhaling through his nose. That was the rush he needed.

"Did you see 'em?" the kid asked, pointing back in the direction that they came. "Did you see their faces? Yo, did you headbutt that guy, man? Did you really?"

Gripps' grin took over his face. "I didn't like 'im," he answered with a casual shrug, but he glanced at Martin. He felt it too.

"Woh. What the hell?"

So did the kid, apparently. Martin reached out, hand grasping his shoulder to steady him. "It's a little… disorienting at first," he said calmly. "Didn't know it could happen with more 'n just two. What's your name?"

"Cross. I'm Cross. What is this? What the hell is this?"

"It's okay. Easy, Cross. Easy. We gotcha." Martin tilted his head a little. The kid couldn't have been more than fifteen at the most. Younger. Fourteen, maybe. Dark brown eyes stared at him and he forced himself to calm down, hoping it'd help their newest brother. Another brother. He hadn't hoped for one, let alone two. Maybe life wasn't so bad afterall.

Emotions were coming off of him like rockets being fired into the sky. Martin could feel excitement mixing with bursts of confusion, fear, and wonder. Cross looked back at Gripps and then again at Martin. "Who are you guys?"

"I'm Martin. He's Gripps."

"You're like me," Cross breathed. "You're like me."

"Yeah. We are."

"How'd you do that?" Gripps asked. "Only take a little. I mean, you weren't snackin' in there."

"Huh?"

"When you just breathe it in. You took it from him, but not a lot," Martin tried to clarify.

"Breathe it in? I don't know how to do that. How do ya do that?"

"Practice. We'll teach you," Martin promised. Cross was alone. Somehow he just knew it. He had been alone until now, but not anymore. He'd never have to be alone again, and by the expression on his face he knew that too. They were family. Even though they'd just met, they were family.

Martin pulled in a deep breath, and froze, a scent filling him up and sending ice through his veins. "We gotta go."

"Where?" Cross asked.

"He's here."

Gripps tilted his head, picking up on the spike of anxiety and he looked around. "Where?"

"Who?" Cross demanded.

"Don't know," Martin admitted softly. "Never seen him. Just smelt him. He's… bad news. Real bad news. Blackwing. We gotta go."

He started towards where they'd parked the truck, but a figure moved in the way of their exit between the buildings. Lights filled up the space behind him, casting him in shadows, but Martin knew. He was the one he'd sensed all through Blackwing. A lurking presence that Project Moloch couldn't even top. He'd never had a name for him, just a fear and a knowledge that they should never, never meet him.

The man stepped forward and into the light of the alleyway. "Hello, Martin. Gripps. My name is Mr Priest. I've come to take you home."

Notes: Who got to write two back to back action packed chapters? This gal did!

Gotta love the Rowdy 3 getting into scuffles, though one against Priest may be less entertaining. By might be, I mean definitely.

Also, this is the first chapter that SetMeAtopThePyre has written a version from Cross' POV. Check it out on her AO3 account!