"Bad Company"

Run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

-Johnny Cash

---

Something was rotting.

The cloying scent carried on the wind, leaves lifting and vines swaying and death spreading.

Trowa swung the machete, pushing aside yet another razor-sharp frond. His sweat was already burning the thin cuts on his face and arm.

He had gone tearing off into the jungle, giving chase, determined to prevent everything being ruined.

Overhead, the sunlight was merciless, glaring through the tropical canopy, reminding Trowa that this was anywhere but paradise .

The irate squawk of a bird being disturbed made Trowa pause.

He scanned the foliage, waiting for more sound, some signal of what direction, where-

There .

A flash of white and red.

Trowa hurtled forward, lunging through the underbrush, ducking his head to avoid more lacerations, charging towards his prey.

He came up short in an unexpected clearing, nearly tripping over the corpse.

He sheathed the machete and inspected the remains.

It was a javelina, the belly bloated and the pelt mottled with flies and maggots. The eyes were gone, the mouth open and tongue distended. Perched on the trees above, vultures glared down at Trowa.

"Argh!"

Trowa turned just in time to see the man charging at him, barely managing to catch the swing of the tree branch on his elbow instead of his jaw.

He staggered back several steps from the blow, and the man pushed his advantage, wielding the branch again and bringing it down on Trowa's shoulder with furious, desperate force.

Trowa hissed at the sharp, radiating pain, ignored the welling blood running down his arm, and took hold of the branch with both hands.

He lifted his right foot and shoved his boot into the man's gut, hard, sending him flying backwards.

He landed on the javelina, rolled off of the decaying corpse with a disgusted cry, and tried to crawl away.

Trowa hefted the branch, closed the space between them, and swung it against the man's left side.

He grunted, and when Trowa repeated the attack, he fell and curled around the injury.

Trowa stood over him, glaring down at the sweaty, sniveling man.

"Please. Please . I'll give you anything. Just let me go. Just-" He cried out again when Trowa planted his booted foot on his belly, pushing down with enough force to make the other man writhe in pain.

"Anything?" Trowa repeated, letting himself sneer.

The man nodded, pathetically eager to please.

"Anything. Yes. Yes, anything . You- Come with me. I know where the money is. All of it. I know where she keeps-"

Trowa tossed the branch away and pulled out his machete. The man's eyes fixed on the blade, and he whimpered.

"You know where all of the money is? You have access to all of the accounts?"

"No-no-no, not- not all of them. But enough. I know enough. Please, please ." The man clutched at Trowa's leg, pale hands digging into the tanned flesh of Trowa's calf.

Trowa kicked free, and then reached down to haul the man to his feet.

He started to drag him back towards the camp.

"No! No ! You can't- Don't, please don't! You don't understand! You don't know what they'll do to me. Please ."

Trowa had a very good idea of what they would do to the man, and he jerked him upright as he tripped over a rock.

"Move," he hissed when he met resistance.

Trowa had been the one to wing him, earlier, when the man had first taken off, and he shifted his grip on the arm he'd grabbed, digging his thumb into the bullet wound.

"You don't know what I will do to you if you don't move your ass now ."

The man was sobbing by the time they arrived back at the camp, walking out of the jungle and onto the perfectly-manicured lawn of the hacienda like wayward travelers who had stumbled into paradise.

The men who aimed submachine guns at them shattered that illusion immediately.

The man was back to stumbling and trying to pull away from Trowa, and when they finally arrived on the back deck, when the water from the pool nearly blinded them with reflected sunlight, the man made one last, guttural plea.

Trowa shoved him down onto his knees in front of the teak lounge chair, just outside of the umbrella's shade.

"Well, well, well. Did you enjoy your little jaunt through the jungle, Branson?" The voice was cool and precise, slightly accented words teasing at them.

"Please, please, la mujer . There's been a mistake. I didn't- I would never - betray you."

Trowa couldn't help but snort. Branson had certainly changed his tune, from bartering with Trowa for his life in the jungle to claiming innocence now.

Dark eyes flicked over to Trowa.

"You're bleeding."

He looked down at his forearm and saw the wide gash from catching the branch. He grimaced. It would need stitches.

An imperious wave of a single, perfectly-manicured hand had Trowa stepping back.

"Get that taken care of. In the meantime, Branson, you and I need to have a little chat with Anhil. Anhil, get the pliers."

Trowa stepped back, ignoring the renewed pleas from the man cowering on the deck beside the pool.

Without looking, Trowa headed towards the hacienda.

" Kotyenok , what have you been playing with?"

The words were delivered playfully, but when Trowa looked into Salome's blue eyes, there was nothing but ice. She gave a careless toss of her hair, sending the pink and blonde locks to one side as she arched an eyebrow at his silence.

"You'll be needing a new accountant," he said.

Salome sucked in her cheeks and made an irritated noise.

"Don't tell me Branson did that to you?" She let out a sharp, derisive laugh. "Perhaps he isn't the only one we need to replace, hm? Good help is so hard to find these days."

She sighed and shook her head at him.

Trowa walked away, just as Branson started shouting.

The smell of the javelina putrefying in the jungle followed him inside.

Notes:

Clara's thoughts: This has been an amazing journey. I still remember the days when I had Kangofu-CB blocked because I thought she was a porn bot. But she's not, though she does have great taste in porn. She's an amazing writer, an overwhelmingly fantastic person, and I'm beyond lucky to have her as my partner in crime. This story has been a labor of love from the very beginning. And while some parts have been more labor than love, she has always been amazing - creative and fantastic and supportive and brilliant. Please enjoy this thing we made together, because there is so very much of us in here, and we are so excited to finally share it with all of you.

CB's words: Clara wrote her note first and said all of the good things already. Just know that being recognized as not a porn bot has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. SEMPAI NOTICED ME!!! But also, this collaboration has been a wonderful thing for me as a person and a writer and a friend, and it has been a joy - well, ok, some of it was a bit of a slog through murky waters - but the benefit of writing together cannot be overstated both in terms of how much it has improved me as a writer and my ability to give and take constructive criticism, but also in the quality of the finished product for, I think, both of us. Clara is an tremendously brilliant writer and human, and I am still blown away that she's the least bit interested in writing ANYTHING with me, much less this amazing story. Seriously, we hope you love it as much as we do.

Thanks to Ro, as always, for the tremendously fantastic beta reading and editing - everything you touch is improved by your input!