Chapter 11 - Don't think about not thinking about it

Posted on https://books.clockworkcaracal.com/dragons-heart/old-beginnings/ch11 - if you aren't there, this is a pirated copy!

"---being such a pain in the ass. It has to be one of these places, I am one hundred percent sure about that, I've gotta just be missing something. Somewhere. If this sweep doesn't find something at least a little suspicious I don't know what the hell we're gonna do next. Maybe it'll---"

Fang let Trace's tirade wash over him, barely even noticing it as anything besides background noise as he scanned through his Ivy feed on his phone. Sharing a room with the team's resident hacker and said hacker's computer had taught him very quickly that they talked to themself when they worked. A lot. It was either "learn to ignore it" or "never sleep and quietly go insane" - and since the one option was been-there, done-that, bought-the-t-shirt, he learned to ignore it.

Plus, since he hadn't been sleeping much the past few nights anyway, he'd been getting even more practice ignoring it.

He paused on a picture of an adolescent kitten crouching flat on the ground next to a neon toy mouse, then tapped the screen. The gif played through - a few seconds of the kitten wiggling closer before finally pouncing on the toy, bouncing up and down as it danced around its "prey" like it thought the thing would bite. Fang smiled slightly to himself, letting it loop a few times before scrolling down. Cute cat videos, still humanity's greatest invention.

A bit further down was a new video announcement for Cooking Up Rose's. Based on the brief clips in the montage, Rose was doing a cold-resistance potion - seasonally appropriate, with autumn settling in. Snickers (her calico cat) and Tok (her parrot) both looked to be making appearance this time, which promised a great time and probably several broken jars. Fang absently watched the clip montage looping as he considered digging out his earphones to watch the video now. On the one hand, he could use the positive distraction. On the other, his phone screen was so much smaller than his TV back home....

A sharp poke in his leg abruptly broke his train of thought. "Hellooo, earth to Fang."

"Ow," Fang deadpanned, not bothering to look over at Trace. "What's up?"

"I said, do you think your future boyfriend might know something?"

"What?" Fang blinked, now paying full (and confused) attention. "My what?"

"You know! The tech repair guy. Blue-haired elf."

Shit. Fang flinched, swearing internally that he hadn't managed to suppress the reaction and hoping Trace hadn't noticed. "He is not my future boyfriend," he replied, aiming for a tone of firmly enforcing boundaries and hoping none of the... everything else managed to leak into it. "Why are you asking me?""

"What? Why wouldn't I?" Trace looked perplexed. "You had all those opinions about his work and expertise before. Besides you two hit it off really---"

"You have his info," Fang grumbled, swinging himself off his bed and heading for the door. Not thinking about it. I'm not thinking about it. "Ask him yourself."

"Geez, okay." Trace raised their hands in surrender. "Sorry I said anything."

"It's fine," Fang responded automatically. "Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks. Go have fun brooding."

"I do not ---" Fang cut short his protest, shook his head, and headed out of the room.

Jade and Vanessa both looked up as he walked into the room.

"Ah, Fang." Vanessa waved, Cat's tail winding around her other hand as she absently pet her familiar. "How is the search going - do you think I could convince Trace to come out for a bit?"

Fang deliberately pushed his unfortunate mood behind a thoughtful expression and a shrug. "It didn't seem to be going great," he allowed. "But they didn't seem to be busy, so... maybe?"

"I hope so." Jade gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Fang pointed out.

"Hey, I'm a growing weregirl. Besides, I eat less than Nessa!"

"I have two mouths to feed." Vanessa wasn't even pretending she wasn't amused as she patted Felix on the head. "But it is getting towards dinner time, and Trace is the best cook in the team, so if they're free... Could you go---" She paused, giving Fang one of her all-too-perceptive looks, then nodded and stood. "I'll go ask. I can get an update while I'm at it."

"Be my guest." Fang waved a hand lazily back over his shoulder to gesture her past. Not that Vanessa needed - or wanted - his permission, but it helped cover his own reluctance to go back himself that she had definitely, one hundred percent noticed. I'm losing my touch, he noted ruefully.

"Hey," Jade called over as he started for the balcony, "get over here, mister anti-social."

Fang stopped and raised his eyebrows. "Anti-social? That's a new one."

"If the shoe fits," she declared, then patted the sofa cushion next to her. "C'mon. You've been hiding for days."

He took a breath, prepared to argue, then realized she wasn't actually wrong and gave a short laugh instead. "Not hiding," he amended, "but okay. At least a little guilty as charged."

"Ha!" Jade raised a fist triumphantly. "Finally! So what's the deal?"

Fang rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to sigh as he dropped down on the opposite end of the sofa. "I guess I'm just not feeling very social."

"Pfff." She gave him a light punch in the shoulder. "Try harder. You social your way through everything, that's like if I said I didn't feel like hitting things."

"Even you can't feel like hitting things all the time."

"Try me." Jade grinned toothily, showing off sharp wolfy canines. "I have two punching bags at home. Custom made tough enough so I could use 'em every day at full strength for a whole year. I'm on the fourth set," she added smugly.

"Okay, you win." Fang grinned. "I sit corrected."

"Yes! ...Wait." Jade narrowed her eyes at him, giving the air a considering sniff. "Now I know something's bugging you."

"What? You had a good point."

"Nuh uh. Winning against Trace is one thing, but you? And twice in a row?" She wrinkled her nose. "What's up? Really this time."

I really am losing my touch. Fang sighed and rubbed tiredly at his face. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? I just want to wrap this job up and go home."

It was all true. It should have sounded convincing. But for some reason, somehow, it didn't.

And from the look on her face, Jade wasn't buying it at all. "...Is this about Cyan?"

"What?" Fang practically jumped, his startled surprise rapidly shifting to annoyance. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Woah, hey, calm down," Jade made a little gesture that was obviously supposed to be soothing, or something. "It's just, you know, you've been moping around, and you obviously liked him---"

"What is with you two?" Fang abruptly stood. "Maybe this is why I'm being anti-social. You two won't shut up about some stupid guy I one time said nice things about!"

"Hey, wait, I have no idea what you're---"

"I'm going out," he snarled, striding for the door. "Don't call me."

"Where the hell did you disappear to?"

Fang landed hard on the rooftop, ducking into a roll to keep momentum as he sprinted for the next.

Don't think about it.

He focused on rebuilding speed, on the impact and traction of his feet on the rooftop, on hitting just the right distance ---

"the war"

--- just the right timing for the next jump ---

"in our front yard"

The angle went wrong, his foot barely hitting the edge of the building as he landed, skidding off to the side. His claws came out on instinct, digging fiercely into the gravel and concrete of the rooftop to catch him before he fell into the alley below and leaving several inches of deep gouges in their wake as a sharp burning pain raced up the scar on his back.

Fang lay there for a moment, catching his breath, before dragging himself the rest of the way onto the roof and rolling onto his back.

... Shit.

He stared up at the sky, patches of dark purple-blue visible past the dark silhouettes of the skyways, and concentrated on his breathing as he folded his claws away. Breathing, and willing away the fragments of conversation and half-buried memories that kept nipping at the corners of his mind.

"... vanished for fifty years."

"Nnngh, shit." Fang put his hands over his face, his fingers digging into his scalp like he could somehow claw the thoughts out of his brain. He couldn't explain why he'd disappeared, dammit. How could he, when he couldn't even think about it?

This would all be so easy if he could actually just walk out. Stop caring about the whole thing. Avoid everyone involved and never think about it again, like he'd been doing so well at for the past two decades. But no, he just had to go and care about it, and every stupid joke or innocent comment his well-meaning teammates made was like a hook stabbing him right through the chest and twisting. Future boyfriend. Ha.

It wasn't even like Cyan himself was a problem. Thinking about him was fine. It was how he always seemed to lead back to the whole... everything else.

Don't think about it, dammit. Fang took a deep, slow breath, exhaling just as slowly, then again. Breathe in, count to three, breathe out. Breathe in---

A loud bang echoed up from the streets below, sending him bolting upright. There was no doubt about it - that was definitely a gunshot. He made his way over to the street-side edge of the building, peering down cautiously. It wasn't likely whatever was going on down there was organized enough for anyone to be checking the roofs, but you could never be too sure.

It was too dark and too far down for Fang to get a good view of the street below, but a quick study of how people were moving, the shouting, and a small uniformed group gave him a loose idea of the scene. Some bored off-duty corp security team looking for some unarmed nobodies to pick on.

Just what I needed. Fang smiled sharply to himself, striding back over to the alley side he'd landed on and, after a brief survey, swinging off the side onto the rickety fire escape.

There were three of them, although only one had drawn a weapon. Fang studied them through the street vendor he was pretending to browse, ignoring the hopeful seller's pitch trying to make the best of what might be the only potential customer they'd get the rest of the evening. In classic bully cop style, they'd all ganged up on what looked like one target.

From the looks of it, at least one bystander had tried to get involved, but the gunshot earlier had been with intent: they were huddled to the side against a building, clutching a clumsily bound and bleeding shoulder behind the protective wall of a couple of their friends or temporary allies.

A silent whisper of magic confirmed the next most important detail: no active cameras.

All he had to worry about was people.

The vendor he'd picked as cover was selling, among other things, cheap winter gear - scarves, gloves, hats. Picking out a black knit hat and a bright orange scarf, he pulled out a chip card and turned a casual smile at the seller. "I'll take these."

"You won't regret it! That'll be---"

"Just scan it, I'm in a hurry." Fang pulled the hat over his head, making sure his ears and hair were all tucked underneath, then wrapped the scarf around the lower half of his face. The hat would blend in with the rest of his outfit - he liked wearing black - and take away his hair and "elf" identity as identifying factors. The scarf, on the other hand, would both obscure his face and draw attention to itself.

If any of them managed a better description than "athletic, probably male, wearing black, bright orange scarf" to their friends or superiors later, he'd be shocked.

The seller wordlessly handed Fang back his card, then took back up their position, the stall safely between them and the gun-wielding "security" team.

Show time. Fang went into a full sprint, heading straight for the cop with the gun drawn. By the time his target noticed and reacted enough to turn their weapon on him, he'd spun into a roundhouse kick and slammed his leg right into the side of their ribs.

The gun went off, the bullet probably ricocheting off a brick somewhere twenty feet overhead, right before the gun itself went flying into the air. Fang ducked as the other two went for their own weapons, darting sideways and grabbing Cop Number Two's wrist with a sharp twist as they tried to draw.

Something snapped and they screamed, swearing, then tried to elbow Fang in the face - obvious move - but he easily avoided it. Another twist to bring their arm up behind their back and spin them around, holding them up in front of himself like a shield, and he aimed his own newly acquired pistol at the one cop who was still armed.

"Drop the weapon!" Cop the Third was making an attempt to be professional again, keeping their weapon trained on Fang and his shield and doing a pretty good job of acting like they were in charge.

Fang waited, keeping an eye on First Cop as they worked on getting their breath back, until Cop Number Two shifted - Fang's cue they were about to make a "surprise" attempt to break loose and regain the advantage.

Instead, they found themself unceremoniously shoved at their coworker before they'd started their own move, sending both cops off balance. Fang slammed the butt of his gun down on the back of Number Two's head as they tried to regain their footing, sending them straight to the ground with a concussion as he lunged past at The Third.

With a vulgar but unimaginative swear, The Third fired. And missed, the bullet flying somewhere past Fang's left shoulder as he ducked and slammed his free hand into their solar plexus. Third's body armor diffused most of the blow, but it gave them enough of a pause to open the brief window of opportunity Fang needed. Coming back up with the gun, he slammed the butt of it into their head as well.

Which left First Cop, who was just sitting back up and looking like they didn't know if they should be freaked out or pissed off.

How about both? Fang grinned behind his scarf, posing a bit as he levelled the pistol at the one remaining conscious offender.

First slowly raised their hands, then just as slowly started to stand up. Fang considered them, decided the three most likely ways they would try to regain control of the situation, and flipped the safety back on his liberated weapon before sticking it into his coat pocket.

Three, two, one... zero......? Finally. First Cop grabbed at something on their belt - something electronic, Fang knew, but he didn't care enough to get more details. Dashing the two quick steps to close the distance, he drop-kicked them before they finished the gesture. Then, slamming a foot down on First Cop's chest, Fang took a moment to make sure he'd knocked the wind out of them for real.

Three against one was hardly fair, he thought in amusement. They needed at least two more.

First Cop was, in fact, gasping for air like a beached fish, so Fang flipped them over and snapped their own handcuffs onto their wrists before checking them over for any other corp-issued tech he might want to keep.

By the time he'd finished checking over Number Two, one of the injured local's friends (or at least guards) made their way over, eyeing First Cop in obvious suspicion and anger.

"Hey, friend," they said, addressing Fang, "you done with him?"

Fang nodded with a thumbs up gesture - not that he was worried about his voice being identified at this point, but talking clearly through a triple-wrapped knit scarf was annoying - and turned back to his own task. After a moment's consideration, he took Third's whole belt, checking the pouches over quickly for any personal items before slinging it over his shoulder - his pockets, while a good size, were already pretty full with the other two's gear.

His own "work" done, Fang sat back on his heels and looked around. Whoever these three had been harrassing at the beginning had long since fled. A not-too-distant siren was gradually coming closer - an ambulance, from the sound of it, and if it had been originally called for the unfortunate who'd been on the receiving end of a bullet, it reassured him that his own victims wouldn't suffer any serious effects from having been pistol-whipped in the head.

Which meant it was high time for him to high tail it out of there.

It was in a much better mood than he'd left that Fang let himself into the apartment. The television was on, but Vanessa still looked up when he entered - Jade, on the other hand, was engrossed in whatever was playing.

"Well." Vanessa raised her eyebrows at him. "You look like you had a good time."

"I did." Fang grinned back, pulling the scarf off from its loose wrap over his shoulders and tossing it at Jade. "And I return bearing gifts."

Jade pulled the scarf off of her face, pausing the movie before looking at it. "Orange? Ew."

"That's just the bonus." He started unloading the corp gear he'd lifted onto the coffee table.

"Oh, nice." Jade reached for the growing pile, pulling her hand back with a pout as Vanessa gave it a chastising swat. "Did you rob an armory or something?"

"Mm. He picked a fight with the cops." Vanessa lifted one of the stun guns, turning it around for inspection. "Didn't you?"

"Me? Pick a fight?" Fang placed a hand over his chest with a wounded expression, which earned an amused snort from Vanessa. "I'll have you know, they started it."

"Aw man!" Jade folded her arms and flopped back into the sofa cushions. "You get to have all the fun. This job sucks."

"Nothing's stopping you from beating up the local bullies on your own time, you know."

"But wandering around waiting for someone to be a jerk is even more boring than hanging out here. No offense, Nessa," Jade added as an afterthought.

Vanessa didn't even look up from taking inventory of their new acquisitions. "None taken."

"Looks like you were keeping yourself occupied just fine." Fang leaned over to get a better view of the television screen: it was some sort of action scene, but that didn't tell him anything. "What're you watching?"

"Rewatching Die Hard, Die Fast." Jade stretched out her arms over her head, hanging back off the sofa. "I know, I've seen it like a million times, but come on, it's a classic."

"I haven't heard of it," Fang admitted. "What's it about?"

"You what." Jade turned an incredulous look at him. "There's no way you never even heard of it!"

"Come on, Jade," he mock-complained, holding back a grin, "you know me. I don't watch action movies, I live them."

Jade rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever, but seriously, you're literally ancient, I figured you'd at least know about the classics."

"Humor me?"

"Oh all right." Jade patted the back of the sofa next to her, not waiting for Fang to sit down before continuing. "It's from about fifteen years ago or something, when a big action movie director you've never heard of decided he was gonna do a remake of a super old action movie, except story goes he was stuck between these two pre-uprising franchises so he decided to do both."

"One of those being the original Die Hard?" Fang guessed.

"Hey, see! You do know what I'm talking about!" Jade jabbed his shoulder with a friendly punch. "You're not completely hopeless."

"I only know the name, I promise."

"Sure, okay. So Die Hard is from like a century ago and basically about a cop - like, a real cop, not a corp thug, back when they had real cops who actually helped protect people and all that, if that's even a real thing and not made up for the movies---"

"The movie's about a good guy who's a cop, check," Fang interrupted, recognizing a lengthy tangent when he saw it.

"Right. He just happens to be there for a party, then there's a whole thing and I'm not going to outline the whole plot but basically the cop single-handedly foils this whole terrorist takeover heist plot by running around guerilla-style."

"That sounds fun; too bad we'd be the bad guys in that, huh?"

"Yeah, well." Jade shrugged. "The other movie is The Fast and the Furious. It's about a cop who goes underground to track down this heist team---"

"Damn, we're the bad guys again?"

"No, okay, so in that one there's like all this stuff about loyalties and gang stuff, I mean, yeah, there's a lot more people getting murdered by rival gangs than nowadays, life back then was rough, but really it's all about the car racing and there are six more movies afterwards about the ex-cop and the guy he was after racing and stuff."

"So this movie," Fang gestured at the television, "is about stopping a heist?"

"Sort of? But that's not why it's so good! See, Die Hard, Die Fast manages to combine both the trapped-in-a-building action suspense and the high-octane---"

"Octane?" Fang raised his eyebrows. "Where did you learn that one?"

"Fang, oh my god, let me finish my damn sentences, they use it in movie reviews to describe the kind of action, but the point is that it does car chases and being stuck in a building in the same movie and nobody expected it to work but it does, and that's why it's a classic and John McDaniel is so famous even if you never heard of him."

"That's fair," he said, trying not to laugh, "I have never heard of him."

"Well, now you have." Jade looked satisfied, then smiled broadly. "You wanna watch the movie? I can start it over, you really need to watch from the beginning."

Fang paused before reflexively refusing to actually consider, glanced at Vanessa tallying up the "confiscated" corp tech, and returned Jade's smile with his own. "You know what? Sure."

"All right!" Jade sat up excitedly and grabbed the remote. "You're gonna love it."

"I'll spend the whole time critiquing their style, you know."

Jade laughed. "Yeah, I know."