Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch.26.1 Angel in an Alleyway

The Vitali's tires squeal before finding purchase on the marble and speeding out of the elevator into the atrium. The guards, unprepared, throw themselves out of the way like bowling pins. Employees flee the chaos, clearing a runway toward the doors. Zef braces himself for the impact, arms around his head. The glass entryway shatters into diamond dust, streaking the Vitali's perfect paint with a meteor shower of scratches.

Zef shrieks, watching between his fingers as Gray veers to avoid pedestrians. The Vitali tears around the road, spewing exhaust at Bionic Capital behind them.

Glancing at Zef, Gray scoffs and reaches across to buckle his seatbelt for him. "Safety first."

It's a fucking terrible joke, but as they pass another billboard where a man gives his anal beads a good tug, it's impossible not to laugh. It's a hysterical laugh. Hysterical in the macabre and vaguely misogynistic sense. Like, full on 'the yellow wallpaper' levels of manic laugh. It's wild and angry and cathartic.

They did it. Fuck Bionic Capital. Fuck the chains they put around Gray, around Zef. Fuck having to listen to some cyborg in a skin suit strip them of their autonomy, their identity, their bodies. They were taking it all back.

Zef's laughter bubbles into giggles. Beside him, Gray raises his eyebrows, a disbelieving smile cracking his own face. "Fuck, didn't break ya, did I?"

Between hasty, hyperventilating breaths, Zef says, "I think I've transcended any normal reactions. I just—" He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. "We did it. You're free."

Gray looks briefly surprised, like the idea hadn't yet sunk in. "Not quite. But one step closer."

"Where to now?"

"Well, gotta dispose of this car, seeing as it's evidence, now. So..." An impish grin is the only clue he gives.

They race a circuitous route through the city towards the pier. Gray stops and leans across Zef to open his door. "You, out."

"What are you going to—?"

"Won't ruin the surprise. I'll be with you lickety split, promise."

Zef totters out of the car. Christ, he can't wait to get out of this dress and into some comfy clothes. Gray revs the engine, and only then does Zef realise it's a straight shot from where they stand into the 'Sippi bay.

His shout of "Gray, wait!" gets drowned out by the Vitali's roaring engine. The car spits towards the end of the pier. As it comes within yards of the edge, Zef's adrenaline consumes him in a fireball of panic. It would be so simple for Gray to simply drown with it—

Instead, he dives out the window seconds before the Vitali hurls herself into the sea with a tidal splash. Gray rolls, gets up, adjusts his skirt. Zef doesn't know whether to kiss him or kick him in the shins as he runs up and takes Zef's hand.

"Time to go, lover."

Of course, he would say the exact word that makes Zef forgive him instantly for the complimentary heart attack.

They flee. In heels, it's a quick strut so as not to look too conspicuous. Damo guides them on a circuitous route free of cameras. Through the streets, the subway system, to the vacant alley where they'd left a stash of clothes to change into and dumpsters to dispose of their disguises. While Zef gets dressed and scrapes away the makeup with a wipe, he can't help watching Gray strip out of his tights, then skirt. He's committed to the bit, wearing black panties underneath, the lacey pattern too delicate for his scraped knees. Zef still finds himself marvelling at the sweet contradiction of him. Hard, rough edges. Soft, fragile heart.

Maybe it's all the porn they kept passing on billboards. Maybe it's the adrenaline-high of victory. Zef heard about life or death scenarios where, instead of 'fight or flight,' some people settled on 'fuck.' In a, 'well, if it's the end of the world, one last chance to spread my genetic legacy,' kind of way.