Dixie stole another burger from the platter in the middle of the table as he glanced at the list. There were actually eleven names on the list, but eight of them had been grayed out, only the top three still bright and clear. Amy Rutherford, Jenkins Small, and Robert House. "You wanna go after Robert House?"
Robert House was a G.O.D. scientist, one of those who specialized in a long, complicated-sounding string of words that amounted to 'super gene studies'. Not a department Dixie had interacted with much, though he'd collided with the general head of biological research. That had been where he'd crossed paths with Matt, stuck in a cell or strapped to creepy looking machines while they forced his body to be capable of turning invisible.
House was also head of his department, which meant high up the food chain and likely to draw a lot of notice. "The other two are much easier hits, why him?"
"Because they live in the middle of cities that are known to be unmarked G.O.D. hubs. Our new friend House lives in a fancy little mansion in the middle of fuck nowhere. Can only be reached by helicopter, and during the winter months, it's snow, snow, and more snow."
"That ain't convincing me you ain't insane," Dixie replied. "You do realize that is going to be way more dangerous and complicated than a simple city heist. You forgetting I just helped a fresh from the box and still shiny 'villain' shut down Sunrise? We bring Countdown to the party, we might could do this easy as pie. Actually, scratch that. I don't want to know what the two of you could do together."
Byron smirked. "I would like to meet Countdown. Anyway, I think House is the most viable option because, if we do it right, those same complications mean it will be hours upon hours before anyone even notices his chip is gone. We take the chip, we put him down for several hours, and then destroy all his communications… Dixie, it could be days before he's able to tell anyone his chip is gone. Do you know what kind of window that would give us for raising hell?"
Dixie nodded, and if the matter wasn't so grim he might have smiled. "Darling, if we pull this off, it'll be the best Christmas ever." Minus a very important, depressing detail, but Dixie wasn't going to think about it. Not much point. He'd made his choice the day he'd decided to escape.
"I thought you'd say something like that," Byron replied with a laugh. "I'm still working it out, but in a few weeks, I should have it all done. Hell, I thought whittling down the names would take longer, but House did me a favor by living on an empty mountain miles away from everyone. It's like Christmas and my birthday all in one."
Dixie grunted in agreement around his second burger. When that too was demolished, he finished off the fries and beer, then carried all the dishes to the kitchen. "Been quiet around here. You mentioned Oberon was overseas, but where's the rest of your usual posse?"
"Hellion and Dual Scream are on the west coast, snooping around for me. I don't think they'll be back anytime soon; it's long game kind of snooping. Moonglow is still playing at retirement, but I don't think they'll keep it up much longer."
"We'll see I guess," Dixie said. "I'm going to bed, unless you need anything."
"Nope. I'm going to clean up around here, shower, and hit the sack myself."
Dixie lifted a hand to say goodnight and headed off.
How the hell he wound up back in the medical ward, he didn't know.
Greg still looked small and bedraggled. Dixie gently rested his hand to Greg's forehead, which still felt a little too warm. But the monitors said everything was within acceptable limits, basically nothing that time wouldn't fix.
He startled slightly when Greg's eyes popped open, expression fuzzy but more alert than Dixie would have anticipated. "Food?"
"How do you expect to eat when you can't even move, pintsize?"
"That's not my name," Greg said, clearly going for mad but only coming out pouting. "And I'm hungry, don't I get something? Even in the crappiest hospitals you still get funky-smelling jello."
"I ain't sure why you think that's a good thing, unless you ate the funky smelling jello. That would explain a lot actually."
Greg gave him an unimpressed look. "Come oooon, I got my ass kicked, I deserve chocolate pudding."
"Stop trying to get Dixie to smuggle contraband up here," Byron said, making Greg startle slightly. Byron stepped up to the other side of the beds. "Help me get him sitting up." Dixie obeyed, and after Greg was settled, Byron retrieved the tray he'd set aside and placed it on Greg's lap. Piled on a plate was the blandest damn food Dixie had seen since he'd been stuck in Byron's medical ward.
Casting Byron a look, he said, "We ain't in a hospital; you can do better than hospital food."
"Shut up," Byron said. "Everything on there is carefully selected for optimal healing. I've studied it extensively and unlike bank robbing, I do have traditional, perfectly legal and sanctioned training in nutrition. I know you're defiant by nature, but don't encourage the other patients."
"I ain't a patient," Dixie said.
Byron smiled sweetly. "Really? Because you're a constant headache."
Dixie lifted his eyes to the ceiling while Greg giggled, the sound as sweet and earnest as he normally only heard from kids. The sudden urge to kiss him, split lips and all, was so strong that Dixie damn near backed away from the bed to avoid doing it. "Go the hell away, dark faerie. You've caused enough mischief today."
"I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who caused all the trouble today, or committed several felonies by way of distraction," Byron said. "I just drove the car."
"Typical dark faerie prince, right in the thick
