GREEN [complete]

CHAPTER 34: Mars

"We were leaving." Dylan shifted to their other foot. "Right now, actually."

They urged Mars forwards, but Reddington didn't show any sign of moving out of the way for them. They were right. This place wasn't safe for him. He could feel it now, in the way Reddington watched him; that dark glint in his eyes.

"But you did so well, Dylan." Reddington moved closer and his guards filled the doorway. "You brought the mongrel right to me, all you need to do now is hand him over and you'll receive your payment in full." His lips pulled up in an overly generous smile. "I'll even throw in a little extra for your troubles—how does ten percent sound?"

Dylan held their ground as Mars tried to pull back. The shiver of his rattle occupied the pause between Reddington's offer and Dylan's response. "I don't want shit from you. I'm leaving with Mars and you can't stop me."

Reddington looked back over his shoulder at one of the guards, who nodded in turn. She unclipped the holster on their belt and pulled her gun halfway out. Emotionless, uncaring. Mars meant nothing to her. He was just another mongrel—not a person, not like Dylan and Bek and even Sekam, as much as she tried to deny it, thought he was.

Anger stirred deep in his chest. He didn't survive this long to be killed by a man who wanted to kill him for what he was. Because he wasn't just a mongrel. He was a person, and he had just found his family. He wasn't going to let Reddington take that away from him.

His fangs pushed against his lips and the sweet taste of venom leaked over his tongue. He struck before the guard finished drawing her gun, fangs finding the meat of her shoulder. He wrapped around her as they fell, binding her arms and legs together.

Bang. The shot blasted a hole through his scales and the searing bullet embedded deep in the flesh of his tails. His muscles contracted and Mars tasted his blood on the air. Bang. Bang. Bang. Blood and scale fragments exploded outward, and he finally felt pain. But not enough—not nearly enough—to slow him down. He launched himself into the second guard.

His victim threw their arm up to protect their face and his fangs met the barrel of their gun. He yanked himself away and instant before they pulled the trigger. It skipped over his cheekbone and tore through the top of his ear, lodging in the ceiling. Mars grabbed their gun and ripped it out of their hands, throwing it down the hallway.

They scrambled backwards, kicking at him with booted feet in a feeble attempt to escape him. They thought they could still escape, but it was too late for them. It was far, far too late. He was going to kill them, and then he was going to eat them. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, keeping him moving, keeping him angry, even as his blood soaked the short carpet behind him.

"P-please!" the guard spluttered. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Mars struck their raised hand, fangs breaking through the soft flesh between bone and tendon. They struggled, but they were already dead. Their muscles seized and their panic built until it the the only thing left of them. Then, there was nothing left. Their eyes went dull and their heart stopped beating.

Mars slunk back from them, twisting to look at his tail. His scales were slick with blood, the four bullet holes dark against the sticky sheen. He looked up at Dylan. Broken glass scattered around their feet, and Reddington slouched down in his chair, head lolling to one side. They still clutched the neck of the vase, their hand bloodied from when it shattered.

"You were right," he said.

Dylan opened their mouth, but never got a chance to talk. The subtle noise of a helicopter churned just on the other side of the window, interrupting whatever they were planning to say. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no ... not now."

ORCTech. They'd come for him. Dylan hurried to him and planted their palm in the center of his back, shoving him forwards. Mars moved without hesitation. He wasn't going back. He didn't want to be a test subject anymore, not after he knew what freedom was.

Mars and Dylan weren't the only ones to notice the helicopter. The hospital swarmed with activity, and every few seconds, Mars heard another nurse tell someone that everything was going to be okay. He highly doubted it. The commotion made them invisible. No one noticed Reddington's absence, and no one cared to investigate the gunshots.

When Mars and Dylan made it out the front doors, the rest of the town was in much the same state. People were outside their houses, loading all their possessions into weathered old vehicles that looked like they hadn't moved in years. Children cried, mothers comforted, and in the far distance, black spots colored the sky.

Mars's adrenaline sapped and his weariness started to take hold. Between the blood loss and the drugs still in his system, he could barely match Dylan's pace. But they urged him on. Faster and faster it seemed, their voice getting louder and louder to his ears. They cut a path straight toward the edge of town, down the road that they first came in on. He clung tight to their hand and willed himself to stay awake. He only needed to make it out of town, he told himself, then everything would be okay.

He didn't let himself think about the tracker in his neck, or the fact that, when the helicopter found them, he would be too weak to fight them off again. He was barely strong enough to keep moving.

The black spots in the sky got ever nearer, near enough that he could hear them now. Mars angled his face up to try to get a better look at them. He didn't know what they were; he'd never seen something quite like them before. He knew that he didn't want to find out.

They made it out of the town and up the first hill before Mars collapsed. He hit the dirt face-first, his torn stitches screaming and his bullet wounds screaming even louder. The dirt and dead grass stained red, beneath him, and when he tried to plant his hands on the ground and push himself back up, his elbows buckled.

Mars was about to give up when Dylan wrapped their arm around his middle and heaved him up with a grunt. "Come on, just over this next hill."

"I can't," he tried to tell them.

But they wouldn't accept that. They looped their arm around his back and took as much of his weight as they could manage and dragged him over the crest of the hill. "The drones aren't here to recover people," they said.

They barely made it to the base of the hill when Mars understood what they meant. The black spots zipped by, and half a second later, the town died. One explosion detonated after another in clouds of red and orange and black, black smoke.

Mars fell again, and this time, he couldn't force himself up. The steady fwup-fwup of helicopter blades whirred overhead. Splitting pain rang inside his skull and every ounce of will he had to keep moving bled out of him.

They were going back to ORCTech.