Fault Lines

Nigel didn't think of himself as a patient person. Being brought up as the only son in a wealthy and prestigious family had made him used to getting his way, whether through demanding, cajoling, bribing, tricking, or—very occasionally—bullying others, even if they rarely actually realised it. 

But he had always instinctively known that none of that would work on Keary. From the first time they'd met, Nigel had sensed that this was someone around whom he had to tread carefully—a judgement had been confirmed on many, many occasions. 

Keary was simply someone who didn't operate by the usual rules, and needed to be approached on his own terms, in his own time. 

But that didn't mean Nigel didn't get frustrated. 

"That was too close tonight." 

Keary's gaze flickered towards him as he approached, then away as he lowered his cigarette and exhaled a breath of smoke. "Doesn't matter. We won." 

Nigel shook his head, his usual smile now set in a grim line. "Did we?" 

Mostly, being patient was fine. But earlier, Nigel had been the only one who had managed to follow Keary to the upper levels, and even then, he had not been able to stay close enough as Keary charged forward. There had been little more Nigel could do but watch as the swarm of people had threatened to overwhelm the silver-eyed youth, weapons slicing within a hair's breadth, so much so that Keary had opted to take the dive to the ground floor with his opponent to end the fight as quickly as possible. 

The fear that had seized Nigel when his friend had leapt past the parapet and disappeared from view was still too fresh for him to just stand around waiting for an explanation. 

"What's this really about, Keary?" 

Keary gave an uncaring hum."Pest control." 

"In this way, all of a sudden?" Nigel's voice tightened. 

There existed an unspoken agreement among the mercenary groups in the city to keep a professional, if wary, distance. No point in shedding unnecessary blood, the way competition had been handled in the past. 

"I really hope you thought this through, because this puts us all at risk." 

"We can handle them." 

"Can we?" Nigel's reply was sharp. "There were too many of them tonight. More than we expected, for one, and certainly more than they should have been, even at full strength. They seem to know what you're planning, even if we don't." 

"We can handle them," Keary repeated. 

Biting down on the sigh rising in his chest, Nigel changed strategy. "If this has something to do with Cardin, at least consider how he'd feel if we had to go back and tell him that something had happened to you, in a fight you picked with the rest of the whole fucking industry, just for him." 

That gave Keary pause. "I won't let that happen." 

"Really? Because that fall could have ended very diff—" 

"It won't happen," Keary said again firmly. "Anyway, there's no stopping now."

Nigel only shook his head, teeth clenching down on the remainder of his outburst. When he finally spoke again, the frustration in his voice was forced low. 

"Things are only going to get more dangerous. Word is spreading, and they're already banding together. If they decide to tail you, they'll find him eventually." He paused. "If you're going to follow through with this, then at least move somewhere else, somewhere—" 

"No." The reply was immediate. 

"... It's been years," Nigel said quietly. "They're not coming back. You know that, right?" 

"I'm not leaving." 

The sigh fought its way out as Nigel gave up. He didn't have the energy to wrestle with Keary's stubbornness on more than one front. 

"Whatever it is, we won't be the only ones on the aggressive now. The least you should do is hide Cardin somewhere safe. This is war now." 

...

The night wind whipped under his helmet to roar in his ears as he sped home, mulling over Nigel's warning. Although he had only given an unconcerned shrug in response, and although he hated showing hesitation or weakness more than anything, he couldn't deny it. 

Nigel was right. 

In this world, where everybody kept one eye on everybody else, word was spreading fast, faster than he had anticipated. His decision to start by clearing out the smaller, lower profile groups had been a deliberate one; he had hoped that his actions would remain under the radar until he and his team were more prepared. 

But it had been a foolish hope. Tonight's numbers had shown that news spread much faster than he had anticipated, and now the whole undercity was up in arms, watching for his next move. If Shun and Nigel hadn't decided at the last minute to tag along for fun, they would have found themselves in a much, much tighter spot than he had planned for. 

He had gone about this all wrong. 

Fuck. 

But there was no way to back out now. Not only would it make him seem weak, it also meant that all those lives he had taken would be rendered meaningless as sacrifices. 

He couldn't stop now. All that bloodshed needed to count for something. If he had to, Keary would kill as many people as necessary to ensure Cardin's safety. 

That didn't mean Cardin had to know. 

Perhaps moving him away for a while, far from the mess, might be the smarter thing to do. He could be kept innocent of all this, and he would be out of harm's way. Nigel was right about that too. The very last thing he wanted was for Cardin to be caught in the crossfire. The boy could fight well enough, he knew, but… Keary didn't want him to be involved in this, didn't want him asking why this war was happening in the first place. He would take that burden on himself. 

But where would he go? The few people Keary knew and trusted would be involved in this oncoming war. And even if they weren't, would they really be able to protect Cardin like Keary could? What if the boy was ambushed again, like with the Russian? 

Then again, there wouldn't be as high a chance of such an ambush happening if they didn't know that he was linked to Keary. Keary had effectively painted targets on all their backs, and logically, staying with Cardin would defeat the purpose of moving him. 

This was stupid. His mind was going round in circles. The bottom line was that, as much as Keary hated the thought of having Cardin away from him in such a dangerous time, the reason this danger was approaching in the first place was because of—

Me. 

I'm the target. I'm the problem. 

Keary grimaced, torn. He'd really fucked this up. 

He should have laid his plans more carefully. And then he had been too merciful. He should have killed off every last man, and hunted down the ones that were left. 

However, until he could rectify these mistakes, it was probably best for Cardin to be hidden, far away from him. Maybe even out of the city, until this was all over. 

For a brief moment, as he pulled up under the brightening morning sky, Keary considered following him. Even if it meant retreating from the fight he had started. 

But there was the issue of the house. He couldn't just leave it standing empty. What if someone broke in and wrecked it? Or, worse… 

What if they returned, and found it empty? 

 "They're not coming back. You know that, right?" 

They would come back. Even if it's been years. They could still come back, and he refused to be caught breaking any promises. 

Stepping up to the front door, he reached out to open it, but paused when he saw the rust-red stains coating his hand, and distractedly wiped it on his coat. It didn't help very much—the events of the night had doused him in dark crimson—but it made him feel a bit better about touching the door to push it open. 

It was a good thing that Cardin was probably already on his way to school. Keary didn't want the boy to see him like this, drenched in blood and full of doubt. Weak. Dirty. He needed some time to wash off his guilt, straighten out his thoughts, figure out his plans for Cardin, and tell the boy when he returned from—

"You're back." 

—school.