Jack ((Story))
Jack
Mood: frisky
Rating: R (language, nudity, M/M, implied noncon)
Two weeks ago.
It was going to be a Jack Daniels weekend. Rain registered the bottle on their kitchen counter and started making plans for a bachelor Saturday. He didn't drink the stuff and he knew the only time Dylan did was on his lost weekends in the Hollows with his old crew.
Dylan's version of "spending time with the folks" was a bit different then other people's. He'd chuck the uniforms and the patrol duties and the responsibilities that went with them. "Just gotta get it out of my system" he'd say with a shrug and disappear for a couple of nights, dragging himself home on Monday with a hangdog face smelling of smoke and other men, his head tizzled on bourbon and second-hand 'dyne fumes. (He swore he wouldn't smoke that stuff anymore. Maybe some weed babe, and c'mon if I did I'd fail the quarterly drug test right? A little second hand is just line-of-duty and accidental. Ok, maybe just one. I'm a fucking Hero of the City. What, are they going to do, fire me?)
Rain decided he didn't care. Be it ever so crumbled, there's no place like home and God knows the Hollows was as close to one as the guy had. It's not like Dee was going to get hurt. There wasn't a creature within ten miles that he couldn't break in half if he wanted to.
Hotwire knocked nervously on Frostfire's bedroom door. Orders or not, the boss did not like being disturbed this early.
"Yeah?" the door opened a crack.
"Sir? Those files you asked me to monitor? They were accessed at 4:50am."
He nodded. The door closed to a inch then opened up a few seconds later. Frostfire thrust an envelope through the crack. "Give that to Amps. Tell him to deliver it to the same place as last time. Do it now - I want it delivered ASAP."
"Yes sir."
Frostfire closed the door. Tom was laying on his stomach, very prettily asleep, or pretending to sleep anyway. The same way that Frostfire had pretended to sleep when Tom had slipped out for half an hour at 4:30am. Exactly as he predicted. Time to wake the kid up. He tapped the old tin clock to be sure it was still running. 7:45. An hour to kill. Perfect...
Half an hour later about six miles away Dylan Hanlon growled a curse as an envelope wrapped with overenthusiastic emphasis around a brick went sailing through his bedroom window. Rain grumbled something about "in-laws" rolled over and dragged the blanket over his head. Dylan brushed the broken glass onto his side of the floor, read the note, gave his mate a parting kiss and headed to the basement storage locker. He had an errand to run.
The sun was breaking over Cherry's eponymous hill when Tom Frost left the West base. He figured on being watched, at least for part of the way, and it wouldn't do if he was seen heading in the wrong direction. Flux first, orders followed, then he would double back through one the western bolt holes under the walls and head for the King's Row address he had memorised last night. The last recorded home of the only Outcast runaway to ever join Hero Corps.
Half a mile away, Diamond D crouched down on the roof and grunted as the heavy Vanguard armor dug into his ribs and thighs. It was ridiculous overkill for this zone but it impressed the small-timers and it was the only gear he had that covered his face. Tom didn't need to see that - yet. Neither of them needed the situation muddied by the complications that would arise from that.
Below him the undercover cop was standing in front of one of the northern supply caches chatting openly with a pair of junior capes from Atlas Park. Dylan frowned. There were rules to the game and Flux was breaking them. Flux made an effort to pretend he was undercover and Frostfire pretended not to notice his clumsy betrayals. Was he getting lazy, or just complacent? Whichever it was, the Outcasts could not indefinitely ignore such flagrant sloppiness without breaking their own cover, and Frostfire only had one solution to that sort of problem.
As he waited Dylan absently wondered what strings would be involved in transferring Flux to other duties before his body turned up floating in the Overbrook Dam, before deciding it was a job for Rain who was so much better with the political stuff. Ah, there he was. "Tommy. Chiller, glasses, kinda skinny." the note said. Right on schedule and just as he remembered him, aside from having pants on. He felt a twinge of guilt and pushed those memories aside.
He let Tom go through his pantomime with Flux knowing that he would take the bait, as obvious as it was. He followed at range and let the young man skirt through a back alley before landing lightly in his path.
"Hi Tom."
Tom skidded to a stop and assessed the situation. He was alone. Bad. There was only one cape. Probably good. He wasn't doing anything wrong and the cape had no reason to wail on him. Good. Capes didn't always need an excuse. Bad. This guy looked like he was slumming. That armor was way expensive and the punk-ass wannabes around here didn't dress like that. That meant only one thing. This guy was looking for him specifically. Very, very bad.
"I think you're looking for me Tom. I decided to save you a trip." He held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Diamond D."
Tom hesitated. There was no photo associated with the file he'd checked last night but the hero's skin tone fit the description of a high-octane Chiller. The gear covered the top half of his face but the bottom half was smiling. Juxtaposed with the armor he gave Tom the mixed message of a dog growling and wagging its tail at the same time. He took a chance and shook his hand. It felt normal which meant that like him, he was colder then average.
"I'll skip right to the meat Tom. Frosty wants you to infiltrate the Rogue Isles. You're scared and think he's sending you to die. Now you want help but you're not sure what kind."
Tom nodded sadly.
Dee clomped over to a bench set against an abandoned building and sat, heavily. Damn he hated this armor. Tom joined him. "Tom I'm here to tell you to do as he says. Maybe not what you wanted or expected to hear."
Tom crossed his arms stubbornly. "You really left? I mean for real?
"Real? You mean am I secretly the Outcast double-agent Double-O KY or something? No, I really left. Went back a month later with a bunch of capes and and kicked Frosty's ass across the common room of the East base."
Tom's eyes widened at the mental image. The hero giggled and leaned over. "It was great."
"Then why are you doing this for him?"
"Why?" He cocked his head. "Because you can walk away from a gang but you never really leave? Because the Outcasts may be dysfunctional as all fuck but they're still the only family I have? Because Frosty may be a monster but you never really get over your first time? Could give you a lot of reasons. Short version - I look after my own. My family needs a home and I'm going to help them carve it out of whoever's flesh needs carving."
"Like mine." Tom spat angrily. He was getting tired of being played. He saw the hero stiffen. "You come here to tell me to fetch and carry for your dream and give up my life and you haven't got the balls to face me eye-to-eye. Why are you hiding behind that mask? What are you so ashamed of anyway?"
Touche, Dylan thought. He's an Outcast alright. "Fine." He unfastened the bindings on the headgear, pulled them off with a gasp of relief and ran his fingers through damp cranberry-coloured hair.
"Aw jeez..." Tom swore. "You?"
Two Weeks Ago:
"Books!"
Mudbrain Bedrock stuck his head through the door of the information centre and leered. "The boss wants you in his room. Now-like." Tom banged his head once on the desktop and got up. The boss didn't like to be kept waiting.
"He's got a guest this time. Hope you took your vitamins." Tom just looked at him with contempt. That was probably what passed in his brain for humour.
Bedrock picked at his teeth and flicked something onto the floor. Tom resolutely resisted the human instinct to look. "Find your own way this time Books. I got people at the door."
As he approached he heard muffled voices from down the corridor. The door was ajar so Tom let himself in. He froze and Frostfire silently waved him to sit.
Ok, Tom thought. That was hot. The "guest" was a big well-built Chiller with Tom's skin tone. No Outcast though, not with that long mane of dark red hair that Frosty would never had countinenced. He was lying naked on his belly on Frosty's bed, face pillowed on his hands while an equally naked Frostfire (the Boss!) was straddling his thighs and lightly massaging his back. Tom had never seen Frosty give anything to anyone except a beating. Not the good kind.
"...The end justifies the means?" The stranger shook his head as much as he could in that position. "Brute force has it uses but I know you're more subtle then that. If practical considerations were all you cared about, this kid (waving toward Tom) wouldn't have any teeth. Know what I'm saying?"
Frostfire frowned. Tom curled tight knowing his guest had miscalculated. Obviously what he could get away with alone was not acceptable in the company of subordinates. "Three years ago.." He replied slowly. "You wouldn't have had any either. Don't forget where you are and who you're talking to, DeeDee."
The other man nodded. "Your house, your rules."
Tom sat quietly, waiting to speak when spoken to. Frostfire whistled to him and tossed over a bottle of oil. "I'm not doing all the work Tommy. My friend wants a massage. Then I think I want one too."
The big Chiller rolled over on his back, laced his hands behind his head and smiled.
"Fuck fuck fuck." Tom buried his head in his hands. This was not going to go the way he'd wanted. What had he wanted from this guy anyway? He wasn't sure that he'd even known.
Dylan slumped forward and dangled the face mask ruefully between his knees. "No, this isn't the first time we've met Tom, or the second. I remember when you joined the Outcasts. It was a bit before I left. I was in Frosty's inner circle at the time."
He sighed, dropped his gaze and studied the pavement. "I was at your initiation Tommy."
Tom blanched. A jolt of adrenaline set him trembling slightly and he braced himself to hide it. He had blocked out much of that night but sometimes he still heard the screams of the other kid they'd brought in. He had freaked out after a couple of hours and they'd dragged him away and dumped him somewhere.
The hero was studying him and probably hadn't missed the reaction. "I didn't expect you'd recognise me. A shaved head changes a person's face a lot."
Tom swallowed painfully. "I wasn't paying much attention to the faces."
Diamond D shook his head slowly. "Neither did I."
Tom looked across at him.
"I was sixteen at mine." He snorted at Tom's expression. "I'm a King's Row boy. I knew what I was getting into. It's designed to break the weak ones. Filter out the ones that can't adapt. You got nothing to be ashamed of. You did well - You survived. And now you're going to test that strength in the Zig."
Mood: frisky
Rating: R (language, nudity, M/M, implied noncon)
Two weeks ago.
It was going to be a Jack Daniels weekend. Rain registered the bottle on their kitchen counter and started making plans for a bachelor Saturday. He didn't drink the stuff and he knew the only time Dylan did was on his lost weekends in the Hollows with his old crew.
Dylan's version of "spending time with the folks" was a bit different then other people's. He'd chuck the uniforms and the patrol duties and the responsibilities that went with them. "Just gotta get it out of my system" he'd say with a shrug and disappear for a couple of nights, dragging himself home on Monday with a hangdog face smelling of smoke and other men, his head tizzled on bourbon and second-hand 'dyne fumes. (He swore he wouldn't smoke that stuff anymore. Maybe some weed babe, and c'mon if I did I'd fail the quarterly drug test right? A little second hand is just line-of-duty and accidental. Ok, maybe just one. I'm a fucking Hero of the City. What, are they going to do, fire me?)
Rain decided he didn't care. Be it ever so crumbled, there's no place like home and God knows the Hollows was as close to one as the guy had. It's not like Dee was going to get hurt. There wasn't a creature within ten miles that he couldn't break in half if he wanted to.
Hotwire knocked nervously on Frostfire's bedroom door. Orders or not, the boss did not like being disturbed this early.
"Yeah?" the door opened a crack.
"Sir? Those files you asked me to monitor? They were accessed at 4:50am."
He nodded. The door closed to a inch then opened up a few seconds later. Frostfire thrust an envelope through the crack. "Give that to Amps. Tell him to deliver it to the same place as last time. Do it now - I want it delivered ASAP."
"Yes sir."
Frostfire closed the door. Tom was laying on his stomach, very prettily asleep, or pretending to sleep anyway. The same way that Frostfire had pretended to sleep when Tom had slipped out for half an hour at 4:30am. Exactly as he predicted. Time to wake the kid up. He tapped the old tin clock to be sure it was still running. 7:45. An hour to kill. Perfect...
Half an hour later about six miles away Dylan Hanlon growled a curse as an envelope wrapped with overenthusiastic emphasis around a brick went sailing through his bedroom window. Rain grumbled something about "in-laws" rolled over and dragged the blanket over his head. Dylan brushed the broken glass onto his side of the floor, read the note, gave his mate a parting kiss and headed to the basement storage locker. He had an errand to run.
The sun was breaking over Cherry's eponymous hill when Tom Frost left the West base. He figured on being watched, at least for part of the way, and it wouldn't do if he was seen heading in the wrong direction. Flux first, orders followed, then he would double back through one the western bolt holes under the walls and head for the King's Row address he had memorised last night. The last recorded home of the only Outcast runaway to ever join Hero Corps.
Half a mile away, Diamond D crouched down on the roof and grunted as the heavy Vanguard armor dug into his ribs and thighs. It was ridiculous overkill for this zone but it impressed the small-timers and it was the only gear he had that covered his face. Tom didn't need to see that - yet. Neither of them needed the situation muddied by the complications that would arise from that.
Below him the undercover cop was standing in front of one of the northern supply caches chatting openly with a pair of junior capes from Atlas Park. Dylan frowned. There were rules to the game and Flux was breaking them. Flux made an effort to pretend he was undercover and Frostfire pretended not to notice his clumsy betrayals. Was he getting lazy, or just complacent? Whichever it was, the Outcasts could not indefinitely ignore such flagrant sloppiness without breaking their own cover, and Frostfire only had one solution to that sort of problem.
As he waited Dylan absently wondered what strings would be involved in transferring Flux to other duties before his body turned up floating in the Overbrook Dam, before deciding it was a job for Rain who was so much better with the political stuff. Ah, there he was. "Tommy. Chiller, glasses, kinda skinny." the note said. Right on schedule and just as he remembered him, aside from having pants on. He felt a twinge of guilt and pushed those memories aside.
He let Tom go through his pantomime with Flux knowing that he would take the bait, as obvious as it was. He followed at range and let the young man skirt through a back alley before landing lightly in his path.
"Hi Tom."
Tom skidded to a stop and assessed the situation. He was alone. Bad. There was only one cape. Probably good. He wasn't doing anything wrong and the cape had no reason to wail on him. Good. Capes didn't always need an excuse. Bad. This guy looked like he was slumming. That armor was way expensive and the punk-ass wannabes around here didn't dress like that. That meant only one thing. This guy was looking for him specifically. Very, very bad.
"I think you're looking for me Tom. I decided to save you a trip." He held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Diamond D."
Tom hesitated. There was no photo associated with the file he'd checked last night but the hero's skin tone fit the description of a high-octane Chiller. The gear covered the top half of his face but the bottom half was smiling. Juxtaposed with the armor he gave Tom the mixed message of a dog growling and wagging its tail at the same time. He took a chance and shook his hand. It felt normal which meant that like him, he was colder then average.
"I'll skip right to the meat Tom. Frosty wants you to infiltrate the Rogue Isles. You're scared and think he's sending you to die. Now you want help but you're not sure what kind."
Tom nodded sadly.
Dee clomped over to a bench set against an abandoned building and sat, heavily. Damn he hated this armor. Tom joined him. "Tom I'm here to tell you to do as he says. Maybe not what you wanted or expected to hear."
Tom crossed his arms stubbornly. "You really left? I mean for real?
"Real? You mean am I secretly the Outcast double-agent Double-O KY or something? No, I really left. Went back a month later with a bunch of capes and and kicked Frosty's ass across the common room of the East base."
Tom's eyes widened at the mental image. The hero giggled and leaned over. "It was great."
"Then why are you doing this for him?"
"Why?" He cocked his head. "Because you can walk away from a gang but you never really leave? Because the Outcasts may be dysfunctional as all fuck but they're still the only family I have? Because Frosty may be a monster but you never really get over your first time? Could give you a lot of reasons. Short version - I look after my own. My family needs a home and I'm going to help them carve it out of whoever's flesh needs carving."
"Like mine." Tom spat angrily. He was getting tired of being played. He saw the hero stiffen. "You come here to tell me to fetch and carry for your dream and give up my life and you haven't got the balls to face me eye-to-eye. Why are you hiding behind that mask? What are you so ashamed of anyway?"
Touche, Dylan thought. He's an Outcast alright. "Fine." He unfastened the bindings on the headgear, pulled them off with a gasp of relief and ran his fingers through damp cranberry-coloured hair.
"Aw jeez..." Tom swore. "You?"
Two Weeks Ago:
"Books!"
Mudbrain Bedrock stuck his head through the door of the information centre and leered. "The boss wants you in his room. Now-like." Tom banged his head once on the desktop and got up. The boss didn't like to be kept waiting.
"He's got a guest this time. Hope you took your vitamins." Tom just looked at him with contempt. That was probably what passed in his brain for humour.
Bedrock picked at his teeth and flicked something onto the floor. Tom resolutely resisted the human instinct to look. "Find your own way this time Books. I got people at the door."
As he approached he heard muffled voices from down the corridor. The door was ajar so Tom let himself in. He froze and Frostfire silently waved him to sit.
Ok, Tom thought. That was hot. The "guest" was a big well-built Chiller with Tom's skin tone. No Outcast though, not with that long mane of dark red hair that Frosty would never had countinenced. He was lying naked on his belly on Frosty's bed, face pillowed on his hands while an equally naked Frostfire (the Boss!) was straddling his thighs and lightly massaging his back. Tom had never seen Frosty give anything to anyone except a beating. Not the good kind.
"...The end justifies the means?" The stranger shook his head as much as he could in that position. "Brute force has it uses but I know you're more subtle then that. If practical considerations were all you cared about, this kid (waving toward Tom) wouldn't have any teeth. Know what I'm saying?"
Frostfire frowned. Tom curled tight knowing his guest had miscalculated. Obviously what he could get away with alone was not acceptable in the company of subordinates. "Three years ago.." He replied slowly. "You wouldn't have had any either. Don't forget where you are and who you're talking to, DeeDee."
The other man nodded. "Your house, your rules."
Tom sat quietly, waiting to speak when spoken to. Frostfire whistled to him and tossed over a bottle of oil. "I'm not doing all the work Tommy. My friend wants a massage. Then I think I want one too."
The big Chiller rolled over on his back, laced his hands behind his head and smiled.
"Fuck fuck fuck." Tom buried his head in his hands. This was not going to go the way he'd wanted. What had he wanted from this guy anyway? He wasn't sure that he'd even known.
Dylan slumped forward and dangled the face mask ruefully between his knees. "No, this isn't the first time we've met Tom, or the second. I remember when you joined the Outcasts. It was a bit before I left. I was in Frosty's inner circle at the time."
He sighed, dropped his gaze and studied the pavement. "I was at your initiation Tommy."
Tom blanched. A jolt of adrenaline set him trembling slightly and he braced himself to hide it. He had blocked out much of that night but sometimes he still heard the screams of the other kid they'd brought in. He had freaked out after a couple of hours and they'd dragged him away and dumped him somewhere.
The hero was studying him and probably hadn't missed the reaction. "I didn't expect you'd recognise me. A shaved head changes a person's face a lot."
Tom swallowed painfully. "I wasn't paying much attention to the faces."
Diamond D shook his head slowly. "Neither did I."
Tom looked across at him.
"I was sixteen at mine." He snorted at Tom's expression. "I'm a King's Row boy. I knew what I was getting into. It's designed to break the weak ones. Filter out the ones that can't adapt. You got nothing to be ashamed of. You did well - You survived. And now you're going to test that strength in the Zig."