Peter stopped outside what Kayla had told them was the armory. It might have taken someone else years to crack the code on the door, but it only took Peter two minutes to go through every possible combination on the keypad.
The door swung open, and they stepped inside. He let out a low whistle, but Raven had seen more than enough high-powered weaponry in her day. Right now, it was just about finding the right tools.
She rummaged around for a while before she found the plastic explosives. Peter whistled again.
"Stop making noise," she said.
He mimed zipping his lips before locking them and throwing away the key. She gathered up the explosives, slipping them in her bag.
"You know, my son's sixteen and he's more mature than you," she said.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, but remained grinning. She gave him a hard look, but tried not to be irritated. Despite the fact that his hand was sewn up and blood splattered on his shoes, there was a strange kind of glow about him.
She'd seen it in Kayla too, the kind that came with getting your hands dirty and still retaining a special part of you that kept you untarnished. Yes, they understood some killing might be involved, but they didn't want it, hoped to avoid it. Kayla had accepted a sniper position, but she understood they were at war. Outside of war, she'd never pick up a gun. If she took a satisfaction of the people who had threatened her family, imprisoned her, that was only natural. Peter might kill someone someday, but she knew that, when the time came, it wouldn't be intentional.
It made her want to sigh, both in sadness and frustration. Kayla was undeniably fierce, and Peter had once broken into the Pentagon just because he could, but they both had it. Whatever it was, it hadn't yet been mired by the blood and shit that she'd encountered almost immediately.
That unblemished soul appeared differently to different people. Peter's glow drew children to him as their friend and protector. He made friends easily. Kayla's had been recognized by Logan, drawn in by that glow, that acceptance.
But it was probably the same reason why his brother wanted to kill her. It was the same reason she knew Peter had been taken advantage of in the past, why he would be again. Peter had never opened up to her, but she hadn't had to hear him say it. Her son was like him, had that same glow, and she knew he'd been hurt.
People like them needed to be protected by people like her, like Logan and Erik. Yes. Erik, more than anyone, should be protecting Peter. He was the part of him that hadn't been broken, whether he knew it or not.
She handed him the bag.
"You remember what to do with these?" she asked.
"Yeah, pfft, no biggie," he said, "You just go and get that data, 'kay?"
"Don't trip," she said.
Peter stuck his tongue out and zipped past her. She smiled and picked up a nearby semi-automatic before slipping into the hall.
Kayla shoved her foot upwards, putting all of her strength behind the blow that barrelled into Vic's stomach. He let go and she scrambled back, getting a good fistful of dirt in her searching hand.
He turned back and she flung it in his face, specifically, his eyes. He started rubbing it away, but she knew all of it hadn't gotten in. It would buy her another second, maybe two, and she hoped it would be enough for what she had to do.
She snatched up the gun, throwing the strap over her shoulder. She felt his claws latch onto her shoulder, ripping open her arm. She stifled the scream of pain, her fingers jerking erratically as he yanked her around.
Her other hand found a knife, and she buried it in his ribs. He stumbled away and she jumped for the nearest tree. Kayla knew better than to think she could run from Vic, but she didn't need to be kept away forever. She just needed a few more minutes, six or seven before Peter came back.
Kayla grabbed the lowest branch and hauled herself up. Her injured arm screamed and shook under the pressure. Her teeth ground together and she put more weight on her uninjured arm. A hand grabbed her leg, but she slammed her heel into Vic's face. A crunch of bone echoed through the woods, as well as a curse. She climbed up three more branches, just out of hands reach.
There was a snap and she whirled around, resting the gun in the crook of her shoulder. It pressed into her injury painfully, but, as Zero had once said to her, who's gonna give a damn about that? No one.
When she focused, she saw Vic was in her sight, and she fired. The force of the shot made her wobble on her perch. It slammed into his forearm, shattering bone. He growled, but let go. It made sure he wouldn't be able to climb until it healed.
The frustrating thing was that might only be a minute. He knew it too from the feral smirk on his damned lips, the way he grinned up at her. She resisted the urge to shoot him just for smiling. He healed fast, and she needed to conserve ammo. Stall if she could.
"Thought foxes didn't climb trees," he said casually.
Her blood was thrumming fast
"I'm full of surprises asshole," she said, "And I'm not dying today."
He shook his head.
"Nah," he said, "Today I'm wrenching your head from your shoulders. Leave it as a present."
His tone was level, a pitying, arrogant look on his face. It was the same way he'd looked when he'd found her in the cabin. Unable to sleep, she'd disentangled herself from Logan's arms. Kayla had grabbed her clothes and dressed before she'd gone into the living room, thinking.
Until three hours before, she'd been in a fugue state. At the time she'd thought her sister had died, killed because of her own mistake. There had been two years when she had eaten, breathed, killed, been prodded with needles and cut up for her Emma. It was all to keep her safe for the day when she could reclaim her. It was the only reason she was still living.
Then Logan had wriggled into her life and heart. She'd fought with herself, saying it was selfish to look beyond Emma. But she'd given in, telling herself again and again that it wasn't wrong to want this one thing for herself. Kayla had told herself that she'd give up Logan if it meant saving Emma, that it was understood her own wants and needs came second.
And it had. She'd left him betrayed and heartbroken in order to save her sister. But she'd failed, and it had all come crashing down. What had been the point of any of it if she didn't have Emma? The lies, betrayal, blood spilled, lives ruined, it didn't matter. It had been for nothing.
But he'd loved and wanted her anyway, told her he'd go where she went. She would mourn her sister, but she had someone else she needed to live for. Broken and defeated though she might have been then, he still made her feel whole. She suspected it was similar for him.
Even though she had never felt more like nothing that morning, those three hours when he'd told her he loved her, held her, let her hold him, had been some of the brightest in her life. Although she knew Laura hadn't had a traditional entry into the world, she chose that night to think of as the one she was conceived. It was the night she'd started to live again, and realized she would live through the agony and sadness, because he was there with her.
The last realization had come when she was sitting on the couch. She had just started to feel the tears come when Vic's hand had grabbed her around the mouth, yanking her out of the cabin and into the front yard. Then there was pain, his claws ripping into her. But, somehow, she'd healed, gone looking for the one person in her life. To learn later Emma was alive was almost more than she could bear. That there was a child too, it was frightening in some ways.
Not as frightening as Vic should be though. However, all she felt was fury as she stared at him. Fury that he would try to take her from the people she loved yet again. She deserved them now, deserved a chance to hold her sister, to meet her daughter, to be with Logan.
She wanted to hurt him, an urge she'd rarely felt as a young woman training to be a schoolteacher. At the same time, she also knew she needed to conserve ammunition, land a headshot and then try to take out some of the people of the factory. Shoot him again, shoot at some of the people at the factory.
But she wanted to hurt him first, really hurt him.
"You know he doesn't think of you as his brother anymore?" she said casually, "You're nothing anymore. To him, it's just me, our daughter."
He was getting angry, and she smirked as she made sure the gun was perfectly balanced.
"And do you know what?" she asked, "He's fond of Emma too. So it looks like he's got a sister now."
Vic lunged and she pulled the trigger. The shot hit him in the center of the head, and she immediately raised the gun so she could see the marksmen at the factory. She shot three of them before she looked down and saw Vic healing.
Kayla shot him in the head again before raising the scope to the factory, blood running down her shoulder.
Just a few minutes more.
It was supposed to take Peter five minutes to set all the charges. It wasn't a question of speed though. The instructions were complicated, and they required thought, even for someone as fast as him. After that, it would take ten seconds to run and grab Kayla, ten seconds back.
They would all rendezvous at the exit, Kayla covering their path. His dad and Logan would come out with Essex and the rest, Raven having gathered the data she needed and hit the fire alarm. That would give everyone time to get out.
After that, they would blow the place. Essex would be kept knocked out, which was why Peter still had the tranquilizer gun. If things went south and they didn't manage to take him down, he'd step in. It was the one thing Essex would never see coming, his dad said.
Grinning, Peter set the final charge and began heading for Kayla's position. He was running a little early, something he prided himself on, and he was looking forward to a chance to rest for a minute or two. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the blood loss was affecting him more than he'd thought it would.
A beeping noise reached his ears and, curious, he looked to the side. The sight made him stop, his feet skidding to a stop. A man only a few years younger than him was in a hospital bed, his eyes closed and his breathing even.
Frowning, Peter peered over him. The man looked emaciated, almost ragged. A thought occurred to him, and he checked the man's neck. Nope, no collar. No nasty scars like Kayla, so it looked like they hadn't tried it on him either.
Peter scratched the back of his neck, examining the different equipment. It looked like it was mostly monitors, not life support. He looked at the man for a moment longer, then shrugged. He had time to spare for someone who needed help.
He unhooked the IV as carefully as possible. He was busy taking out a second one when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Jumping, Peter looked back and saw two mismatched eyes staring back at him.
"Hey, it's okay," Peter said, "I'm here to help. We're just-"
And then the pain started.