Chapter 51: Green tea

"Fuck! What the hell are these people?!"

A thick-faced thug cowered in the corner, his voice cracking. "Weren’t they supposed to be just a few runaway survivors?!"

Another had already soaked his pants. He flung his gun aside and clutched his head, screaming, "You’re the real monsters! You’re the monsters!"

Jack came down the stairs, the heavy machine-gun belt draped over one shoulder. His bronze, corded muscles looked especially imposing in the dim corridor. He tilted his head and said in his usual low rumble:

"What’s the rush? We’re not done yet."

The remaining thugs collapsed on the spot. They dropped their weapons and scrambled for the main doors, tumbling over one another in their panic.

May stayed glued to the vent, unable to look away. The corners of her mouth kept lifting.

These men... are seriously too cool.

A complicated mix of pride and security welled up inside her.

These six rough guys who normally blushed, stammered, and nearly came to blows over who got to look at her a second longer turned into absolute killing machines the moment they hit the battlefield.

She was still absorbed in the scene when a sudden metallic scrape sounded behind her.

The ventilation grate in the corner of the equipment room was kicked open from the inside.

A blood-soaked thug crawled out of the duct, a polished dagger clenched in one hand and a homemade pistol in the other. His eyes were bloodshot. He swept the room once, then locked onto May.

"A woman!"

He roared and raised the gun toward her head. "Nobody fucking move! Or I’ll blow her brains out!"

May’s heart skipped.

Theo was three steps away, empty-handed. His expression darkened as he prepared to lunge.

In that exact moment, a brown blur shot out of the kicked-open duct.

Alex had somehow climbed up as well. He slammed into the thug like a living cannonball.

Bang!

The gun fired.

A streak of blood appeared on Alex’s arm, but he never slowed. His other hand clamped the thug’s wrist and twisted hard while his knee drove into the man’s chest, slamming him to the floor.

The dagger flew free. The pistol skittered far across the room.

Alex drove a kick into the thug’s temple. The man rolled his eyes and went completely still.

"May!"

Alex spun around, puppy-dog eyes full of residual fear. He held up his bleeding arm, voice shaking. "Are you okay? You scared the life out of me..."

The way he had thrown himself in front of her made May’s nose sting. Her eyes reddened on the spot.

This little, innocent fox who usually played cute and talked nonsense had, without a second thought, used his own body to block a bullet for her.

She threw her arms around his injured arm, voice thick with tears. "Alex! You’re bleeding! Does it hurt?"

Her two fingers carefully supported his forearm. The graze wasn’t deep, but beads of blood still slid down his skin and looked alarming.

Alex’s eyes were red too, but he forced a grin. "It’s nothing—just a surface scratch. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters. My skin is thick enough to take it—"

He never finished.

Beep-beep-beep! Green tea! Green tea! Beep-beep-beep—

A piercing electronic alarm erupted from May’s pocket.

She froze and looked down. The ultra-sensitive green-tea detection radar the system had triggered earlier was glowing pink as it floated out of her pocket.

The palm-sized device hovered in mid-air, its needle spinning like mad, the arrow pointing straight at... Alex.

"Beep-beep-beep! Super-grade green tea detected! Lie concentration ninety-nine percent! Subject currently acting pitiful for sympathy! Beep-beep-beep—"

The equipment room went so quiet you could hear Mitch cursing downstairs.

When did this thing end up in my pocket? When did the system even give it to me?

Alex’s angelic face locked up.

May looked from the scrape on his arm to the frantically alarming pink radar. Details clicked together at lightning speed.

That homemade pistol—she had clearly seen it earlier. The barrel was bent. The firing pin wasn’t even aligned with the primer.

The gun couldn’t have fired at all.

Alex had seen the jam, then "selflessly" thrown himself in the path of a bullet that was never going to leave the chamber—and conveniently given himself a dramatic little cut in the process.

He was acting.

May stared at him. Her lips pressed together as the look in her eyes shifted from concern to pure speechlessness.

"Alex."

"...Yeah?" His voice was already thin.

"That gun jammed."

She spoke each word distinctly.

Alex’s puppy eyes flickered. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he made one last attempt. "May, you must’ve mis-seen it. That gun—"

"Beep-beep-beep! Green tea still making excuses! Green tea still making excuses!"

The pink radar was even louder now, practically throwing a party.

Mitch’s voice exploded through the communicator, full of energy:

"Hahahahaha! Holy shit! Alex, you fucking—! I saw the whole thing on the cameras! That gun never even fired! You scratched your own arm somewhere! Hahaha I can’t even hold my rifle steady—"

Theo stood nearby, pushed his glasses up, and allowed a rare, undisguised smirk.

"Stress-response speed is 0.3 seconds. Your dive started 0.5 seconds early. Even an elementary-school math problem is more accurate than that calculation."

Alex’s face went from white to red to purple.

He slowly lowered the "injured" arm and tried to hide it behind his back. His expression looked like someone had knocked over an entire paint palette.

"Uh..."

He opened his mouth dryly.

"I can explain—"

"Beep-beep-beep!"

"..."

May looked at the guilt written all over his face, then at the pink radar still going crazy in mid-air, and finally lost it. A soft laugh burst out of her.

"Alex, was that really necessary?"

Her eyes curved, torn between exasperation and amusement.

Alex’s face was hot enough to fry an egg. Brown strands of hair fell over his eyes. His voice dropped to a mosquito buzz:

"I just... I saw how much attention you give Ray and Ace. I figured I should get you to worry about me a little too..."

Theo delivered the finishing blow without expression:

"Worry about a grade-two green tea."

Mitch’s laughter climbed another octave through the communicator, mixed with Jack’s low grumble:

"Mitch, stop laughing and clear the rest of them. A few are still twitching—"

Alex buried his entire face in his arms, wishing he could evaporate on the spot.