Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch. 16.2 Batman Bullshit

Damo comes to fetch Zef, and they head back to the train station together. Damo asks how it went, and Zef says, "Good. Yeah. It went good."

In reality, he feels a bit like he failed to do what he set out to: reassure his dad that everything would be okay.

The station is crowded with club-goers dressed up for the night. Others loiter around, smoking or staring into their HUDs. Zef's skin prickles as he scans a few men at the doors to the turnstiles.

None of them have visible tattoos, but their clothing is nondescript business casual, and they don't seem to be in any kind of hurry. At this hour, most commuters would be heading home, not into the city for work. He remembers what Gray said about the man he stabbed on the subway.

You get good at seeing through the disguise.

Zef slows down enough someone ploughs into the back of him. The pain in his chest flares.

Damo steadies him with a hand on his back. "Yeah. Dodgy crowd. I see 'em, too."

Too close to make a U-turn without attracting attention, they keep moving, but the closer they get to the men in suits, the more feverishly hot Zef feels. His implant might create a filter that disguises him on camera, but in person? Wig or no wig, they could recognize him.

"How did they find out we're here?" he whispers.

"Don't think they know we are. I reckon Rylan's setting up barricades 'round travel hubs close to any place you or Gray might frequent. Station closest to the bayou is a good bet."

"What do we do?"

"Play along." Damo's hand swallows Zef's bicep, stopping him. "Shit! I forgot my keys."

"O-oh, uh, should we? Go back for them?"

Damo turns him by the shoulder, babbling away. "Maybe I dropped them. Oh god what if they're lost?" Zef tries to play along, but he's dogshit about it. Stuttering and failing whatsoever to sound genuine. He almost looks over his shoulder but Damo strongarms him.

"You'll ruin the show, acting guilty like that. You ever taken acting classes?"

"I could barely afford engineering classes," Zef says under his breath.

"Right. Well, we're out of earshot now. So, plan B. We find a place to lay low for the night, figure out some kind of disguise or another way back home."

It's a worry. Zef's made the journey clinging to the back of trucks before, but he doesn't like the idea of doing that while surveillance is so high. He isn't sure hanging 'round his hometown is the best idea, either, but it's better than letting Rylan's suits get a good look at his face right before he traps himself on a subway car.

Damo goes over their options. They have two. Sleeping rough or renting a motel meant for activities other than sleeping.

Given the option of concrete or sheets with questionable stains, Zef doesn't know which is worse, but Damo says the benefit of shelter is people can't see you in it, so they opt for the latter.

They choose the sleaziest place Zef knows; a dive a couple kilometres out of town. The parking lot has a few vehicles in it, one or two occupied with people doing god-knows-what. Zef finds himself analysing every stranger with suspicion. Is that smoker really just taking a break, or is he a canary in Rylan's colemine? Is that trucker really just using the motel as a rest stop, or is he a spy? That guy's tattoos look old and aged blue, but are they really implants?

He can't fathom how Gray ever manage living like this, constantly looking over his shoulder.

They stop outside the motel reception. Zef, without his implant, has no access to cash, dependent on Damo for subway fare. Damo doesn't like the idea of using money on the wire. He suggests they take inspiration from the bus stop sex worker.