Gabe doesn't risk turning around to see what Dave needs. He tries shifting, needing to get a hand free. Suddenly, his canopy creaks in protest and he finds himself knocked back. The other mech just head-butted him. Before he can be stunned, his world turns white.
No!
The heat of the laser, the warmth of it through the crystalline, makes him freeze up. He remembers his canopy shattering, the fire shooting through his veins, the pain. Gabe grits his teeth, grips Archangel's controls, and gets it together. He feints, pivoting on one giant foot, following the source of the laser. He aims his Gatling gun before the other Enforcer can react, watching for the shimmer and firing when it appears.
He pumps the rogue Enforcer full of holes. Once its laser malfunctions, Gabe rushes it, sending it crashing to the floor. It becomes visible when it hits the ground, sizzling and smoking. The Diamondback inside is quick to abandon ship, popping the canopy and scrambling out.
Gabe sees him running once the smoke clears. He fires his stun gun, but the Diamondback moves like a squirrel, zigzagging this way and that. Gabe contemplates just letting him run out into the NYPD's open arms, but then he disappears behind the ventilation system instead.
"I've got a runner," Gabe says, following in Archangel. Once he reaches the wall where the ventilation is installed, he finds the Diamondback has vanished.
If this is another cloaking device …
No, the floorboards look loose. In his haste to get away, the Diamondback neglected to cover his tracks. Gabe shuts down Archangel, takes off his helmet, and climbs out amidst the chaos. Their backup MEDs have arrived and are herding the fleeing Diamondbacks like cattle. Gabe spies Stonewall heading his way. He waves frantically at Dave, gesturing to the floor. By the time Dave reaches him, Gabe has already wrenched the board up. Underneath the iced salt production plant is a secret staircase.
"Oh, man," Dave says when they head down. "The evidence gets more damning by the second."
Gabe unholsters his pistol. "I saw at least one run down here. Be ready for anything."
Dave taps his earpiece. ""Guys, this is Cortez. Dumas and I are underground—repeat, underground—in the facility. Following a runaway."
"Roger that, Cortez,"
Lisa says.
"All units at your location are occupied, but backup will be there in five."
The narrow stairs lead them to an underground bunker. The door is ajar. Gabe glances back at Dave, adrenalin pumping through his veins. "Ready?"
Dave looks as pumped as Gave feels. "On three. One … two … three!"
Gabe shoves the heavy door open and immediately rolls to the left. He knows from experience that Dave rolled to the right. They hear the popping of gunshots in the darkness, aimed at the remnants of light left by the door.
"Shit!" Dave cries when a bullet hits too close to home.
With Dave stunned, the Diamondback tries to make another run for it. Gabe dives, grabbing him around the legs and taking him down. The Diamondback howls and curses, thrashing violently. Gabe tries to get a hold of his hand and wrench the gun from it. He gets a punch in the sternum, a knee in his side. Soon they're rolling on the ground, wrestling for each other's throats, gun forgotten. Gabe gets an elbow across the man's Adam's apple, closing his eyes when the Diamondback spits in his face.
"Freeze, NYPD!" Dave shouts.
The struggles cease. Gabe leans back but doesn't let go, wiping his cheek as best he can with his hardsuit's vambrace. Dave is standing up and aiming his gun straight at the man's head.
"What have you got down here?" Gabe asks, watching the Diamondback squirm. "Dave, shoot him if he blinks."
"My pleasure."
Gabe rolls to his feet. His knee twinges in protest, but he does everything in his power not to stumble. He walks to the door and searches for a light switch. The bunker is illuminated with soft yellow from a single bulb, revealing the stacks of vacuum-packed iced salt stored by the far wall.
"Oho," Dave says with a chuckle. "What have we here?"
Gabe shakes his head at the Diamondback. "Things are just looking worse and worse for you, huh? First you turn tail into a dead end, and then you lead us right to the motherlode."
The Diamondback doesn't reply. Not that Gabe thought he would, or that he even needs to; the bunker full of iced salt is damning enough. Their backup picks that moment to show up, sealing off the crime scene and taking the Diamondback pilot into custody.
"You good?" Dave asks, holstering his gun. He looks a little banged up, sporting a split lip, but otherwise seems fine.
The adrenaline is fading now. His knee throbs. His cheek is bruised. It's hot as hell down here. "I will be. You good?"
Dave reaches for him, and Gabe thinks he's going to help him up the stairs. Dave kisses him instead, right there in the doorway, surrounded by their fellow cops. He wraps one arm around Gabe's waist, the other gloved hand tangling in his short hair, and pulls them close. He tastes like blood and sweat and dirt. Gabe kisses back thoroughly, smiling when some good-natured catcalls start up amidst the confusion.
"You boys take it from here," Dave says, waving at the others. Then he does help Gabe up the stairs.
*~*~*
"We'll be making headlines around North America," Burns says, scrolling through her datapad. "The Manhattan Raid was a success on all fronts. I don't have the final count yet for how many kilograms we seized, but it's substantial. We dealt a serious blow to the Diamondbacks smuggling ring. They haven't been this disorganized or crippled since the Gang Wars."
She's all smiles and pride, but Gabe knows she didn't call them in here to congratulate them personally. "I'm glad we could help, Chief."
Burns puts down the datapad and crosses one leg over the other. "I'm proud of all of you, but I wanted to commend you for taking the bull by the horns, Dumas. You went in despite your experience and uncovered the motherlode."
"I had the best help," Gabe says, glancing at Dave.
"I'm sure," Burns says, amused. "Which brings me to my next question: was that a thank-god-we're-alive kiss, or is there something you want to say to me?"
Gabe clears his throat, feeling awkward. They knew they couldn't sneak around forever. Dave is the one who answers, rubbing the back of his neck. "The last few weeks have been, uh, eye-opening, ma'am." He peers up at her sheepishly. "Sometimes you don't realize what's right in front of you until … you know."
"We're aware of the protocol, Chief," Gabe says. He meets Dave's eyes, and they nod in unison. "We're prepared to be separated."
"Good. So long as you understand." Burns grins at them. "And might I say, it's about damn time."
*~*~*
Gabe lingers outside the station, watching the city's hustle and bustle. The afternoon sun is still shining. When Dave comes out, dressed in his casual wear, Gabe grins and asks, "So, who's your new partner?"
"Greg Carver," Dave replies, snaking an arm around Gabe's waist. "He's a transfer, actually. A new mind to corrupt."
Gabe rolls his eyes. "Is Alan upset you weren't paired up again?"
"Strangely, no." Dave presses a kiss to Gabe's ear. "What about you?"
"Ed Noble. Nice guy. Also a transfer; we came out at the right time." He turns in Dave's arms to face him, reaching up to touch his cheek. "It really happened, didn't it? We went public with an affair?"
"Sure did." Dave smiles down at him. "You were the best partner I've ever had. I'm hoping," he falters, facade cracking, "I'm hoping you'll still be." He grimaces. "Shit, Gabe, this sounded better in my head."
Gabe laughs, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Come on, Cortez," he says, curling their fingers together. "What do you think about moving out of that box you live in and into my apartment?"
"Screw the apartment, Dumas," Dave laughs, squeezing his hand. "We're shopping for a townhouse."
Fin
About the Author
Mina hails from la belle province where she lives with her husband, balancing a career and a love for queer media. She has been writing since she turned six, and simply can’t seem to stop. She is a geek at heart who loves everything from anime to books to Western TV to comics to video games to the comedic value of a well-played run-on sentence. She has a thing for men in uniform who have a thing for men in uniform.
Mina can be contacted via twitter or tumblr, and you can also check out minamacleod.com