Work Text:
He still can’t catch his breath.
All he can hear is yelling, the words hardly registering as voices layer on top of each other. His nails dig into the dirt, the blades of grass against his palms being the only thing keeping him grounded. The only thing keeping him from thinking this is just a bad dream. His gaze remains fixed, pinned intently on the decapitated head of Venturion. Its eyes wide open, mouth agape, staring blankly up towards the sky. In all of his panic, all of his deliria, the one thing he can’t understand is why Uncle Don would hurt him.
His throat hurts.
Suddenly, he finds himself lifted off of the ground, cradled in arms he knows immediately as Kano’s. For a moment, it scares him. But the touch is warm and kind and his neck still feels so cold so he accepts it without thinking. He clutches Kano’s shirt, he doesn’t think twice, burying his face in the fabric. But he doesn’t cry, not this time. He’s been here too many times.
It’s only a few minutes before he’s back in the compound, but it feels like hours. The yelling hasn’t stopped. Kano hasn’t said a word. Sat on the kitchen counter, Rusty lets the silence linger. A small part of his brain wondered if he’d try and talk and realise he couldn’t anymore. Finally calm enough to take in his surroundings, his ears would be alerted to the conversation taking place down the hall.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
Horace was the one who finally spoke. Minutes of senseless shouting had been followed by a lengthy, tense silence once they’d all gathered in Jonas’s office. What more was there to even say? The way Jonas sat, leaning back in his chair like a kid in the principal’s office, was nothing short of infuriating. When he glanced upwards to his associates, his gaze was as cool as ice.
“So there was a minor malfunction. Venturion leans more towards sentience than we initially thought. It was a failed experiment, let’s just let it go and head back to the drawing board. No harm done.”
“No harm d-?!” Rodney spluttered, eyes wide and burning with rage. He took a bold step forward, only stopped from likely putting a bullet in Jonas’s brain on the spot by Horace’s cane raising to put space between the two.
“Steady yourself, Rodney,” Horace warned evenly, even if nothing sounded sweeter to him than seeing Jonas squirm after all of his recklessness. “He’s not worth the effort.”
“Pardon me?” Apparently that had gotten Jonas’s attention, as his calm expression had soon shifted to one of tranquil fury, eyes narrowing into slits. Despite this, a smile graced his features. One filled with bitterness. Filled with intent. “I dare say you’re undermining my authority here, Horace. Both of you, for that matter. Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me?”
Horace and Rodney were quick to exchange hesitant glances. As if silently nudging each other forward.
“We…” Rodney started, remarkably carefully. A first for him. “Jesus Christ, Jonas, we can’t do this anymore. I mean, all this Venturion crap...It’s a step too far, even for you.” In all of Horace's years, he had never heard him sound so apprehensive, wringing his hands in a way that was hardly befitting of a super-soldier. It was a miracle he even got the words out at all. Jonas raised a brow, then, seemingly stunned by the revelation. Like the idea that he’d done something wrong hadn’t even occurred to him.
“He was our dearest friend! I did the right thing, I saved him! Until now, anyway. Speaking of which, tell Kano I want to see him in my office next, would you?” The supposed grief in Jonas’s tone at the beginning of his sentence had long since trailed off into abject flippancy by the time it ended. The tonal shift was near whiplash-inducing. And Horace was done dancing around the issue.
“Your son almost died today.”
Another long, tense silence. Jonas sat there, unflinching, as if waiting for the man to take his words back. So confident that he’d cave that he didn’t even bother trying to make a show of how furious he was. But no one was backing down. No one was caving today.
“Just...Think about it. Okay, Jonas?” Rodney suddenly blurted out, his tone bordering on pacifying. Just wanting the almost crippling, oppressive feeling in the air to dissipate. Placing a hand on Horace’s shoulder, he’d keep his gaze fixed on the other, only occasionally casting a judgemental glance in Jonas’s direction. “We’ve all had a Hell of a day. Let’s just take some time to think on it.”
With a sigh, Horace would nod. Jonas was like a brick wall, they all knew that. Arguing in circles like this would only get him more riled up. And with that, they’d turn, almost in sync, only pausing when Jonas spoke.
“Oh, and boys? I’m not the villain here. Remember that.”