Hidden and Silent (SpyxFamily)

Ch. 23: Part Four

Prickly nerves popped along Demetrius skin like cold water dripped into a hot pan. He searched for anything—anyone—out of place, people and faces flitting back and forth, checking things, speaking to other workers, and he couldn't differentiate from who was supposed to be there, to those who might be working for his father. Casting a glance around the edges of the room, he spotted all of his classmates that had joined him here and were assured that they were safe. He might not like or care for them much, but it'd just be annoying if Donovan tried to use them against him. They had brought him this far and a hostage situation was no way to pay them back. Demetrius would leave them if he couldn't make it work in his favour, but he'd feel a little guilty about it, and he didn't need that right now.

Demetrius didn't think Donovan would use them anyway. They were all children of influential people who had excessive avenues of investigation to pursue if anything happened to their kids. Donovan wouldn't risk it if he didn't have to, no matter how good he was at hiding things and keeping his image clean.

The random people here? Demetrius was unsure if Donovan was still under the impression that his son would care about them. Either way, it didn't matter to Demetrius. So, he was fine there.

Which meant. . .

The power went out with a loud chank! as the lights shut off, plunging the building in complete darkness. The instant quiet was deafening, like ocean waves crashing to stillness. Demetrius' senses buzzed with alarm, alertness making his hands twitch as he carefully rose from his chair, voices reduced to questioning whispers. Everyone had stilled. Perhaps expecting the power to return in another moment.

Demetrius knew better.

He felt them before he heard them, like snakes creeping in on the edges, shivers pricking at his spine that made him shudder. Really, Demetrius should have noticed earlier, but this was different. The quiet, garbled buzzing he used to hear was gone, replaced with vague, cold tingles branching up his brainstem like tiny, numbing pins of electrical ice. But beyond that, Demetrius couldn't feel them.

That wasn't good.

The agents were close. Way closer than they should be without Demetrius noticing they were there. It must be the new blockers Anya had told him about and he had no idea how close they were. Just that they were in a certain range. They were more stealthy than he'd like and he had never felt so blind. His abilities had always been a huge advantage in the dark, pinpointing minds like beacons in his own, and without it, he was afraid of what was hiding. Adrenaline produced goosebumps and twitchy muscles, phantom sounds making him paranoid. Demetrius had been taught to fight blind, to sense shifts in the air, for clothes ruffling, and yet, he felt wholly unprepared when he couldn't feel his opponents. He was missing his most useful tool and he was lost without it. Even dulled, it would be better than this.

Though, somehow, he was still ready when one of them came up right behind him.

Demetrius was almost amazed how easily he saw it coming. There was a presence at his back, a gentle change in airflow as the agent breathed quietly and softly, the friction between cloth as an arm lifted, and if that wasn't enough, the smell of strong chemicals dousing a strange hand that came towards his face.

His reaction was instant.

Demetrius was quick to hold his breath, catching the wrist in one hand and the other on the agent's collar behind him. He had practiced this move countless times before, over and over and over, repeatedly told by his father and his many different instructors over the years, how crucial it was to know how to defend an attack from behind. How to stop it before it even began and how to react without a moment's hesitation.

Despite his training, and how perfectly he'd preformed it before, it had never been so easy. It was probably the adrenaline, the unnecessary amounts of impulsive force his brain demanded he use, and the calm panic that settled in his chest, buzzing in his heart and under his skin. Either way, a body was hauled over his shoulder and slammed into the floor.

Thud!

"What was that?!" Sally was the first to call out as a few startled gasps accompanied it.

The agent wheezed.

"What's going on?"

"Is someone hurt, what happened?"

"What was that?"

"Is everything okay?"

Demetrius ignored the crew members as best he could in favour of his current situation. He wished he knew how many, or which agents. He was a familiar with some of them and how they fought.

He felt something shift and his heart skipped a beat as he narrowly avoided a kick to the stomach. (Not his head. Never his head. Couldn't risk damaging it and what it held) He gave one in turn, or tried to, but only clipped their arm. He threw his elbow out next at the neck of an agent who had snuck up behind him and was rewarded with a cry that sounded painfully strangled.

The next attack from another agent did hit and Demetrius grunted at the blunt pain, grabbing hold of the ankle before the foot could retract from his abdomen. With no time to spare, before anyone else could also attack, he determined his assailant had used their right leg by the direction of their foot, and lifted his own in response. Demetrius kicked them in the face.