Super Crush (BxB)

Secrets Slammed

It's the red warning light of STAN that pulls what little attention I was able to muster from my AP Bio project. The same project that will decide if I keep an "A" in the class or not. It's also the only thing I could think of to throw myself into after the craziness of the party. Oh and to take my mind off of seeing my old best friend fighting my new friends to the death.

I whip around to the balcony door to find Slammer standing there.

"What the hell do you want?" I spit.

No response.

I turn my attention back to my computer.

"STAN, grilled cheese." Guess I have to make a new safe word.

The lights return to normal, but I am still on alert.

"You got some nerve coming here. Agreeing to leave Crimson Kid alone and then trying to beat the shit out of him the next minute? You know he isn't in on the plan."

More silence.

"I should just call The Fleet right now and let them take you away. Lock you up."

I turn to find Slammer slouched against the wall, holding his left flank. There's blood. Like a lot of it.

"Holy shit!" I am up and out of my seat.

"They knew we were coming. Matriarch unleashed all of The Fleet on us," he says.

My arm snakes under his and rests against his back. With all of my might, I hoist him to his feet. We walk to my bed, and I set him down on the edge.

Well, this is a dumpster fire.

"She killed Malware. She killed a kid. She killed my friend..." He trails off before taking a sharp breath. "Tiptoe is MIA. I don't know if she is..."

"Who?" I ask but am too deeply in medic mode to give it my full attention. Knowing I have to get the blood to stop, I grab the first thing I can find, a clean t-shirt that hasn't made it back into my dresser yet. From the top drawer of my desk, I grab my health patch and a half-used canister of healing foam Abe left here a couple of months ago. I kneel in front of him and dig my fingers into his poly-mesh shirt when it meets his waist. There is something familiar about his torso, but I ignore it and concentrate on the task at hand. I carefully hike it up past his wound and rest it on his chest. I spray the pink foam on his torso and it expands like shaving cream. If it hurts, Slammer doesn't even flinch.

"Did he do this to you? Here. Hold this and apply pressure." I put the shirt on the gash and lead his right hand to it.

With a harder-than-intended slap, I affix the workout patch to his left pec. A Christmas tree of warning lights covers the watch-sized screen. The main notification I look for is critical care. It says the blood loss is slowing and no major organs face damage.

Slammer's breaths are quick and shallow.

"The kid's red energy did something weird to my stone. It didn't go through it, but his hardest blast chipped away a chunk."

I can't tell if fast breathing from his injury or his emotion. Either way it makes the patch's oxygen level and heart rate warnings ding like an old alarm clock.

"Sir Madness thinks we double-crossed him. He was already uneasy after the raid at the Maniac Plant...I didn't know where to go."

"Well, the friend of your enemy surely wasn't your best option," I say.

"You were my only option. The only person I can trust. I need your help, Noah."

This is the first time Slammer has said my name let alone consecutive sentences. There is something familiar about his voice.