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When Vegas had told Pete they should make merit together so they could see each other in the next lifetime, he'd been mocking him. It had been a small powerplay in a lifetime of powerplays—barely noticed.
Even if he could have meant it, he didn't mean it like this.
Vegas gasps into awareness in his king sized four poster bed, specially imported for its oak poles and headboard constructed of sturdy and carefully placed slats.
Sun streams in through the white breezy curtains. It’s early morning.
Today is the day the minor family attacks the major family’s compound.
It’s the seventh time for Vegas.
It took him a while to figure out what the catalyst for the time loop resetting was. The first few loops ended in major family victories through explosions or chaotic mass shootouts, and so Vegas naturally assumed that this loop was a gift to him to finally do something right for his father. He could keep trying until the minor family won.
Then there was loop four. Kinn and Tankhun on their knees with his father standing over them. Kinn glared, jaw tight, but stayed silent until the very end. Tankhun was the opposite, wailing and spitting insults. Kan pointed his gun at him, finger curling around the trigger when Pete appeared out of nowhere—a lie, a lie, he’d been standing there the whole time, blending into the background even in a blood covered shirt, jacket and pin already lost. Vegas had been watching him, had been watching Pete become one with the scenery, watched as everyone else’s attention was drawn to the psychodrama happening in the centre of Korn’s office because of course his father would have them dragged there. The symbolism was too rich to resist. But Vegas kept an eye on him. There was his Pete.
There was his Pete throwing himself in front of Tankhun, a dutiful bodyguard absorbing the shot instead while Tankhun screamed. There was so much screaming, it couldn’t all be coming from Tankhun. It was Vegas too, a primal, guttural cry like his ribs were being pulled out behind his spine.
Pete was smiling. He didn’t get the bullet in the head like Kan had planned, it hit him in the chest and he didn’t go immediately. But he was still smiling, lips turning red and blood bubbling up. He reached for Tankhun’s face and then he was gone.
Vegas lunged forward, reaching for Pete and—
He woke up in bed.
Loops five and six reinforced the lesson. Nothing else mattered. Minor family victory, minor family loss, the loop ends as soon as Pete dies.
This is Pete’s loop. This is Vegas’ punishment: no escape until Pete survives. Vegas has fucked him up and now he is responsible for him.
So for loop seven, he hatches a plan. After waking up sweating to the vision of Pete’s smile as he threw himself on a grenade, he puts it into practice. Instead of mustering with the rest of their lieutenants, Vegas sneaks out. He has already used Porsche to get to Pete, and that trick won’t work a second time. He has to be clever. Well. He has to figure it out, regardless.
Vegas goes to the major family tower, but not up to the door. He gets close, then lights a stack of papers on fire and throws it. The bodyguards on duty rush over to stomp it out—careless and shoddy—and Vegas slips inside. He played here enough as a kid before things went bad to know the nooks and crannies. Maybe they’ve re-done the paint since, and replaced the silk screens on the third floor that Tankhun fully ran through when he was chasing Vegas and Kim during tag. But that’s cosmetics. Vegas knows the bones of this building. He knows them in the way that only a burglar can.
Vegas has never lived here, never experienced the tower as a physical manifestation of his daily routine. So he’s not blinded by how the building is supposed to be used. He sees it as it is: objects in space. There’s a doorway that leads to an unassuming truncated hallway, no one would think to go that way except someone who shouldn’t; the reason it’s short is because there’s an access door to the boiler room. Vegas ducks into it and travels through the building behind the building. The maintenance areas in a building like this are vast and complex, truly their own structure. They lack the soft wood panelling, instead leaning heavily on utilitarian gray and exposed pipes. But they don’t have to look nice to be useful.
Vegas maneuvers around this inverse area on feel and then he pops out. At this time of day Pete should be on duty on the third floor, outside the salon where Tankhun likes to sit. And he is. Vegas is prepared. He brought rope, duct tape, and a blanket. He runs up and kicks out Pete’s knee and when Pete stumbles he gets the rope across his neck. Pete, with the training of a fighter, gets his wrist in between the rope and his neck—all according to plan. Vegas isn’t trying to choke him, just subdue. So he wraps the rope around, pinning that hand for the moment, and works against the three other struggling limbs to bring him down. Pete isn’t quiet but Vegas isn’t too worried about that either.
He drags a trussed up Pete back into the maintenance hallway, at which point Pete goes limp, trying to knock Vegas off balance. Dropping that centre of gravity does make it harder to hold onto him, but Vegas doesn’t really need to get him anywhere else. He flows with the movement, landing on top of Pete and wriggling into a 3-point hold. Then he gets the duct tape. He tries not to think about how beautiful Pete looks with the rope and tape crisscrossing his body, how much more beautiful he’d look if he was naked and the rope drew lines across his skin. The way the skin would pale when pressed by rope and then flush when released. This isn’t about that. Vegas forfeited the right to that. This is about survival.
Once he’s sure that Pete is well-restrained, he adds a piece of tape across his mouth. It’ll hurt when it comes off because the skin of the face is delicate, but there isn’t really a better option.
Vegas doesn’t worry about lifting Pete, just hooks his elbows under Pete’s armpits and drags him, like he’d do if the building was on fire and he wanted to keep Pete beneath the smoke. Which feels apt for the situation.
He tucks them into a room with several big metal boxes that have pictures of lightning bolts on them. He’s not sure what they do, but the little graphics suggest he shouldn’t experiment. The low level hum emanating from them should mask their presence.
Vegas spreads the blanket out on the ground and then lays Pete down on his side, trying to cushion his shoulder and hip.
Pete’s eyes are full of fire. It’s a level of anger he hasn’t seen on Pete since the early days of his captivity. Part of Vegas revels in it. Yes. This is who he is. Not the person that Pete seemed to see beneath all of that. Vegas hands are claws, designed to rip and tear, not to hold. Pete said their fathers hurt people because they were failures. And Vegas hurt Pete.
But he doesn’t want to hurt Pete more than he has to. And he knows he already has, a lot. Pete has wriggled a bit since Vegas laid him down and the blanket has wrinkled such that it isn’t beneath his head anymore. Vegas comes close to fix it and Pete—flinches. It freezes Vegas.. Pete’s breathing has sped up too. As much as Pete is fighting him, not giving up, he’s also cringing away; there’s a shadow behind his fiery eyes. Vegas curls his fingers into his palm, nails digging into the skin, hard enough to bite. Who can blame Pete? Vegas remembers Pete smiling, reaching out for him. But one moment’s niceness doesn’t overcome a reasonable learned response; Vegas should know. Especially the way they left it.
Vegas is here to take care of him, but of course Pete can’t see it that way. Can’t expect that from Vegas coming back into his life.
Vegas shows him his hands, moving slowly as he adjusts the blanket. “I’m not going to hurt you.” There’s a question in Pete’s eyes. Maybe he is owed an explanation. It could help. “The minor family is coming to attack today.” Pete tenses. His wriggling intensifies.
Vegas puts a hand on his hip to still him. “Shh, no. I didn’t mean to stress you out. You’re here to keep you safe.”
Muffled sounds come out behind the duct tape. Vegas debates with himself and then decides that they’re far enough away from the main areas that even if they’re looking for Pete it’ll take them a while to find him, probably long enough for the minor family to begin their attack. He doesn’t flatter himself that his dad would wait for him. He carefully tugs the tape off of Pete’s face, rolling instead of tugging to try to be gentle on the skin.
Pete works his mouth to help loosen it. He’s always so good at helping, his Pete.
“Let me go, Vegas,” Pete says. “I have to help them.”
Vegas shakes his head sadly.
Pete screams at him. He alternates between begging and excoriating him. He wants to go, he has a duty, doesn’t Vegas have any filial piety. Then he gets personal. He’ll never forgive Vegas for this, he hates him—
At this, Vegas has to speak up. “It’s ok to hate me, Pete,” he says, sitting on the floor cross-legged, hands aching to reach out to touch him and not daring. “If you hate me, that means you’re still alive.”
That shuts Pete up for a second. He slumps on the floor, head drooping. Vegas rearranges the blanket to cushion it better. Pete sighs.
“Fuck you,” he says quiet, and then closes his eyes. Vegas chuckles. Pete’s clearly choosing to quit engaging with Vegas. That’s fine.
An alarm goes off in the building. Vegas checks his watch. Right on time.
The quiet lulls Vegas. His attention shifts internally. This is the closest to rest he’s had since the loops started. And if this is going to be the last loop, it’s not the worst way to go out. Sure, he’d love to see Pete look at him fondly again instead of angry or hurt and bleeding, but small sacrifices are worth it.
That’s when the gentle rumble of the big gray box gets overpowered by a lower pitched roar.
That seems… bad. “Oh shit,” Vegas says and drags Pete upright, but he can’t stand or walk. They barely make it to the hallway when the fireball appears and races towards them.
***
It takes all of loop eight to investigate, but it turns out there’s a bomb that Tankhun sets off when Kinn dies. So waiting it out isn’t an option.
Vegas needs to take a more active role.
There’s two ways to stop the bomb. He can either disarm it or he can stop Kinn from dying. At first look he thought that disarming it would be easier than preventing the death of enemy no. 1 in the middle of a firefight, but turns out disarming bombs is actually very difficult. He blows them up at least three times before he switches approaches.
If he can capture Kinn early, then he can use him as a chip against Tankhun and help secure the victory of the minor family. It reminds him a bit of the fourth loop but Vegas reasons that can’t happen again. He’ll know that Pete will do something self-sacrificing and stop him.
But that’s a distraction. Vegas is off pinning Kinn to the ground with his boot when the loop resets. Which means.
Pete died and he doesn’t even know how. That might be worse.
***
Next loop he sticks with Pete. It’s just not right that Pete can die without him. Pete stays with Kinn until Porsche arrives, so that’s actually two birds one bullet, but when they separate Vegas uses the cover of gunfire to roll towards Pete.
“Hey—” he says.
In a flash, Pete has him disarmed, arm a bar against his throat and his gun pressed against Vegas’ temple.
Oh this is an idea. “Hey Pete,” Vegas says. “What if we just walked out of here? Just the two of us. You can use me as a shield and we could just go.” The rest of the room falls away. He observes that the shooting has stopped as everyone reacts to the new situation, but it doesn’t seem as important as the man behind him.
Pete growls. Vegas can feel it in his spine where it’s pressed against Pete’s chest.
“No,” Pete says. “I want all of you to back off and get out of my home.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
Vegas speaks quietly, trying not to let the armed and tense crowd around them listen in. “C’mon, Pete.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, you don’t have the right. Don’t… not like that.” Pete pokes the barrel of his gun into Vegas’ head but he’s not afraid. If Pete wanted to kill him he’d have done it already. He’s had so many chances, more chances than Pete knows.
There’s commotion around them as various minor family fall into indecision about what to do. Up to this point they’ve been following Vegas’ lead. He’s got a well-mapped out sense of where all the major family are going to be and when, so he’s been counting steps and taking down corridors for maximum effect. He still can’t predict Tankhun, that guy is a chaos agent, so he’s never had a perfect run. But they’ve gotten close. Pete’s the best bodyguard, objectively, so he’s always at the core. If Vegas can just get his gang close enough, he can take the leadership out and secure Pete in the same step.
This has never happened before. Vegas has always kept his distance from Pete. This is the first time since the disastrous kidnapping that Vegas has come within arm’s reach.
The panicked milling of the minor family gunmen settles down and they move with more purpose. Vegas squints, trying to see what’s coming. Vegas’ stomach drops when he sees the crowd part so Kan can walk between the middle of them.
“Pete,” he says with urgency. “Let’s just go. If we go I promise I won’t fight, I won’t help them. Pete. Please.”
“Shut up,” Pete says. “Khun Kan.” He raises his voice slightly to be heard. “Take your men and retreat or I’ll kill him.”
Kan smiles, gun at his side. “Nong Pete,” he acknowledges. For a crazy second Vegas allows himself to fantasise about this plan working. Everyone leaves, Pete keeps him at gunpoint while the major family trickle in amongst the bodies and flickering lights and start securing the room. Pete with him the whole time.
Then his father says, “I have another son.” He raises his gun and shoots Vegas in the side. His entire chest feels like it caves in and he crashes to the ground. There’s blood, but he’s still here so that means—
He gathers every scrap of awareness he has to reach for Pete. He rolls over, screaming when it pulls at his wound. Pete is there, on the ground next to him. The bullet must have gone through Vegas’ body and into him.
“Pete,” Vegas says. He reaches out to put pressure on the wound but Pete misunderstands and intercepts his hand. He links their fingers together. Vegas stares at their hands, fingers interlocked, flecks of blood on the knuckles, who knows from who or when. Pete squeezes.
“Vegas,” he says. There’s a smile on his face, peaceful.
“No,” Vegas says. A shadow falls over them. Vegas tries to drag himself onto Pete’s body. “No.”
“Let go,” Kan says and fires his gun.
***
The loop resets.
***
That was his fault. He needs to do a better job. Protect Pete and help the minor family win so that no one will be a danger to him.
Kan’s shoes coming into view right before he pulled the trigger.
Pete’s fingers releasing a millisecond after the bang.
He can’t think about it.
He just has to do more. Better.
But when the call comes for him to muster with the men, he just doesn’t want to. He does. Because everyone is counting on him. But he doesn’t share what he knows, he doesn’t give the strategy. There’s a film inside his mouth that feels like he’s blocking his throat. He’s not sure he could speak even if he tried.
The morass that has been living under his breastbone ever since Pete left him feels solidified, a fist of ice grinding on his ribs.
He moves through the major family forces like butter. He doesn’t have to look to know what to hit. He just goes forward, implacable, unrelenting. No one gets past him. On previous loops he focused on his goal and was willing to let others slip away. Not this time. No one gets by him.
They subdue Kinn, even as he clutches at Porsche. They pull them apart. Vegas wants to kill Kinn. Wants to smash in that smug, beautiful face. The man who was always better than him. The one who was the obvious heir to take over the enterprise. It’s not fair. Why should Kinn get his devoted family and besotted lover and respect from everyone around him. Why does Kinn get Porsche looking at him with love and trust, even at gunpoint, when Vegas has to watch Pete cry and bleed out under his hands over and over.
Kinn has no idea, he thinks. No idea what other people’s lives are like.
But he could.
Vegas’ hand tightens on his gun. It’s currently pointing at Kinn’s forehead, but it’s the work of a moment to change that. He angles down and there. That’s fear. Vegas’ gun pointing at Porsche’s forehead and Kinn unable to do anything but look on. A vicious thrill goes up his spine. Take that, motherfucker. Feel it. Powerlessness looks awful on Kinn. He looks small and drawn. His voice is shrill. He’s nothing. Nothing special, nothing intimidating. No better than Vegas is.
He pulls the trigger.
Kinn screams. His voice is shredded past recognition; it’s the shriek of something inhuman. Vegas hears it, almost from a distance.
Then he looks up. Makes eye contact with Pete who is looking at him with horror and pity. The horror he can take—he’s revealing the beast beneath the skin, after all—but pity? Not from Pete. Not after what Vegas has done. Pity is for people.
The ice that has been driving him melts, all at once. Vegas shakes; his gun hand won’t stop. He puts a hand overtop his main one.
Pete makes a break for it, charging at Vegas. Vegas braces for it, waiting, and it feels like the bullets puncture his own chest when the semi-automatics stop Pete in his tracks.
***
Vegas wakes up in bed.
He pulls his knees to his chest, and cries.
***
The final time he doesn’t know it’s the final time. It is just another time. If he’d known he’d probably have done it differently—which he supposes is part of the problem with him in general. Can’t do the thing right when he means to, but lucks into it sometimes like how he lucked into Pete.
Things go by rote. Vegas coordinates the forces, they slip into the major family building easily. When Kinn comes down, Vegas breaks off from the main group. He knows Pete is with Kinn so he moves ahead of them, clearing the way. It’s a bit of double agency but what else can he do? His goals are split. He can be honest about that now. The minor family winning and Pete surviving are not necessarily intertwined, even as much as Vegas is trying to do both.
No matter how many times he does this, it’s still tiring. He’s sweating when he runs into Pete, almost literally. This loop isn’t going great. Vegas has never fully been able to predict Tankhun and this time his little exploding robots have taken a toll. When Pete raises his gun, so does Vegas. And he thinks about it. For the first time, he considers it. He could kill Pete and start the loop again. What’s one more time? One more Pete death?
He imagines it for a second and immediately knows he can’t. Each loop is a loop, but it’s also real. It’s real to him when he’s in it. Pete is real. He can’t kill Pete, not even for a moment.
He lowers his gun.
The gunshot is almost expected even though it does hurt like a motherfucker. Doesn’t matter how many times he gets shot, the pain cuts through everything, unignorable.
The punch is a lot less expected. He can’t believe Pete still wants to be close to him after what he’s done. Well, he doesn’t know everything Vegas has done, he hasn’t lived the loops, he doesn’t remember. But even without those memories, Pete still puts his hands on Vegas.
The pain and the proximity strips him down. Takes away every artifice and plan.
“I'm sorry,” Vegas says. “I love you.” It’s the truest things he knows. And he’s feeling worn down, weak enough to add in the thing he wishes for. “If I’m going to die today, could you be the one to do it?” Just once, Vegas would like to not outlive him. It’s ok if he dies, as long as Pete doesn’t.
Pete can’t die.
He steals a kiss and runs off. He can’t rest now. It’s not over.
***
And then it is. It’s all over. Minor family has lost. His father is dead. There’s nothing else. Nothing for him to do.
When the gun goes off he thinks: not again. When the pain hits, it’s a relief. It doesn’t matter what happens to Vegas. Pete can’t get safer than he is. He’ll go on without Vegas in a way that Vegas can’t without him. He doesn’t expect to wake up this time.
When he does he doesn’t want to open his eyes. Doesn’t want to have to face it all again. But he does. And when he does, Pete is there.
It’s tomorrow.