fic (or: oh hell, this fic... it is bad for my brain)
This is the giant mess of "What is this, I don't even...." I started writing a couple nights ago and couldn't stop and this particular portion of it I'm posting here is a bit over 2100 words now ^^. Part of the insane crossover that is the adventures of Pearson and Bolger (and Rick) in the Killjoys-verse. Wherein it is questionable if Rick should be trusted, Pearson will give him the benefit of the doubt, and Bolger is a huffy bitch. Also I speculate on the worldbuilding a lot but whatever. It's not like there's a real concrete canon for this world and it's really more fun this way. PG-13 for language. Gen. also it kind of starts in the middle of shit because I still have not actually written the scene where they pick up Rick but since when do I ever write and post anything in order ever
[Neither the characters nor the world is mine, I just squish them together for silly PostApoc fun]
----------------
"What the hell are you doing to our Vend-a-Hack?" Bolger's voice is tight and furious and accusatory, but Pearson doesn't even look up. Carefully working at removing the hack card to set aside before he pauses and allows himself to break concentration enough to speak.
"I'll put it back together when I'm done."
"Damn right you will! I don't relish the idea of going without food, water, and ammo just because you feel like messing with that ID tag Nameless is toting around."
"There's a reason he didn't want us to destroy it."
"Because he wants to lead the fucking Draculoids right to us. The asshole was bait and you swallowed it."
Pearson shrugs, his attention back on the matter at hand and the dismantled Vend-a-Hack in front of him. "Hasn't been proven yet. Besides, he was genuinely afraid of getting exterminated himself."
"Doesn't stop him from inadvertently being bait."
"True. Although I find myself doubting they'd be going out of their way to specifically target us. They got bigger fish to try and net. Either way, we still need to find out what we can. Pass me the solder."
"Weren't you whining about almost being out of this?" Bolger snaps, not that it stops him from handing it over, and Pearson lets a vague sort of smile show.
"I can always scrounge up more. This is important."
"Right." He scoffs slightly, shooting a glare over at where the man he has come to think of as "Nameless" is dozing fitfully by the fire. "I still think we should have burned that damn thing and left him to fend for himself where we found him."
"Your reluctance is noted." He pauses, studying Bolger's face carefully for a few moments. "And weren't you complaining just a few days ago about how boring you're starting to find things?"
"No."
"Not in so many words, mind," Pearson continues, as if Bolger hadn't snapped at him, his attention back on wiring in the card. "But you were sounding awfully jealous of Crow...."
"Blackwing. For the love of god, man, you don't know what that thing could be transmitting back! Can you at least try to...."
"...and what he's gotten himself tangled up in lately. You'd think this sort of thing would appeal to you. Who knows, there could be information on here people can use. Maybe some building plans so Infernity can go and blow something else up."
"And what would you do if they were? I know for a fact you wouldn't smile and hand them over to anyone who'd use them like that."
"Probably not, no. I don't particularly agree with those methods." Pearson sighs, carefully soldering a few wires in place. "But that bridge can be dealt with when we get there. For now I just want to see what we're dealing with and what the hell spooked him so much."
Bolger simply scoffs, picking up a rock and rolling it between his hands for a moment before tossing it into the fire. His eyes focused intently on the sparks it kicks up. "I bet it's just shit everyone out here already knows. He's some sorry sap who skipped his meds one day and woke up realize that the ones he's expecting to protect him are pure fucking evil."
"We'll see." Pearson sets his tools aside and stretches. His fingers already itching to start trying to crack whatever secrets that card might hold even though he knows he has to wait for the solder to harden up, all too aware of the steady frown Bolger is keeping trained on him.
"You already got an idea, don't you? What the hell have you figured out that...."
"I don't know anything for sure," Pearson replies, holding up a hand to silence Bolger. "That's why I want to crack this first. So I'll know. Then we'll deal with him."
Bolger says nothing in response to that, simply grumbles something under his breath and leaves Pearson to his work. Asleep by the time Pearson finally manages to crack the files. Not that Pearson wakes the other man to let him know, in fact the more he reads the less inclined he is to let Bolger know anything if only because it will probably result in a dead body on their hands which is the last thing Pearson wants.
He turns the whole mess over in his mind as he carefully works on reassembling the Vend-a-Hack, finding himself thinking that maybe he should have listened to Bolger. Maybe they should have just left Nameless face down in the dust and walked away. It would have been easier.
But what's done now is done, and with a sigh he gets to his feet and gives Nameless' sleeping form a gentle shove with his boot. Inclined to face the whole thing head on, and when Nameless stirs and groggily sits up Pearson frowns and goes straight for the heart of the matter.
"You were one of them, weren't you?"
Nameless palls, his eyes darting to the side briefly. Giving a few convulsive swallows before he manages to croak out, "I don't know what you mean," and Pearson has to choke back the sudden bark of bitter laughter that tries to tear its way out of his throat.
"You know exactly what I mean. Sure you ditched the mask, and you did a good job of disguising the rest but that's a Draculoid uniform underneath all that dirt and paint. It's hard to see unless you're really, really, looking for it and I'm sure the only reason he hasn't noticed yet is because the thought hasn't occurred to him just yet." The last part tacked on with a smirk as he gives a vague nod in Bolger's direction.
"Could have stolen it."
"Could have. You wouldn't be the first to swipe one off a corpse to use for infiltration. But nobody in their right mind would wear one all the time out here and it's sort of useless for covert operations all trashed like that." He leans in close, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's your game? And keep in mind, I've already read everything you've got on this." He holds the card up between the two of them and Nameless' eyes dart to it and then back to the ground. Boot scuffing slightly in the dirt.
"Survival. It's always been survival. Things are a little less desperate, you know your needs will be taken care of...."
"Save the recruitment speech. What were you doing face down out in Zone Three acting like you were on the run?"
"I was on the run, believe it or not. Six months ago I got separated from my team for about a week. Five days spent trying to get back to Battery City without a vehicle, without food or water. And a sudden cold-turkey stop of the meds. At first I thought I was going to die. Or go crazy. But by the third day it wasn't so bad. We're on a different mix from the general public. Milder in some ways, a hell of a lot worse in others. And once it was out of my system starting again...." He gives his head a shake. "I couldn't do it. They found me, brought me home, and I tried to go back to the way things were. But I couldn't. Started hitting underground clubs on my time off. One thing lead to another and eventually I was feeding out what classified information I could get to whoever needed it."
"And then you got caught," Pearson puts in flatly, realizing that's the logical place for this particular little story to go.
"And then I got sold out," Nameless corrects him with a glare. "Maybe it was under duress, maybe even the grand revolution has a few traitors in its ranks...."
"I don't think you're the sort of person who should be complaining about traitors."
"Even still. I was lured into making one big incredibly risky extraction of information that was essentially a trap. That makes me a dead man walking that no one will miss. Draculoids don't have families. We don't have identities, they're erased as soon as we join. We don't even have much in the way of thoughts of our own...."
"Unless you go off the meds." Pearson falls silent for a moment, turning the ID card over in his hands a few times before looking Nameless in the eye, watching the other man squirm slightly. "So who did you use to be? Before all of this."
"War orphan. Grew up in a state sponsored home. Hit eighteen and decided security work was more glamorous than a factory job. They let you believe there's a chance for advancement. A few years serving the peace and then you can work your way into a nice desk job. Find a nice girl. Start a nice family. Everything nice and happy and perfect. But it doesn't turn out that way for anyone, does it?"
"Not really. What's your name?" He's asked the question before and never gotten a satisfactory answer. But maybe now....
"I don't have a catchy Zonerunning name like you. I'm kind of new to the whole thing, what with being in the camp trying to kill you until a few weeks ago."
"I don't mean that. I mean before. In case you didn't notice I'm a little more casual about the whole thing than our Warrior over there."
He's quiet for a moment, considering his options before murmuring, "Rick."
"Just Rick?"
"Just Rick."
Pearson simply nods in a quiet sort of acceptance, tucking the card back into his jacket pocket and watching with a distant interest as the motion causes Rick's face to fall slightly. Just because he has a name now doesn't mean he's about to trust the man entirely. "All right then, 'Just Rick', this is how it's going to go. We will tell my partner there your little story, and I will try to stop him from shooting you in the head. I'll even let you stick with us if you really want, although you'll have to get yourself a pair of wheels if you do. But the instant you put one foot out of line and do anything that will put either of us at risk, I will shoot you in the head myself. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
In the end, Bolger takes it better than Pearson thought he would, although the only reason he judges it as such is because no one winds up dead. But Bolger is still furious and looking about ready to take off on his own when Pearson corners him near the bikes and says quite simply, "Don't do this."
"Why the fuck not? You're willing to let the goddamn enemy in our ranks, I don't see any reason to stick around."
"He's not the enemy. He's marked for death, just like the rest of us."
"So he says!"
"He is. This," Pearson begins bluntly, holding up the ID card between them, "has a good chunk of the floor plan for BLI headquarters tucked into it. Guard stations, security cameras. Probably out of date by now, but useful in its own way. That's what he was tapped to get his hands on when he got sold out."
"If he wasn't just feeding you a line of shit. There's no way of telling if that thing is even real. Someone of his rank shouldn't have been able to get his hands on something that sensitive."
"Maybe not. But I still trust him."
"Because you always trust too easy! You swallow whatever fucking sob-story you're fed with a happy little nod and leave yourself wide open to be shot in the back."
"Because that's all we have out here. No one can survive on their own and all we can do is trust and believe that the other guy will do right by us. If not, we're worse than They are."
Bolger's expression is still twisted into something tight and angry. Biting out between clenched teeth, "I should just try to find Blackwing and see if his little pack of crazies will have me," some of the venom fading when Pearson's face falls at that and he sighs. "But I won't. Someone has to watch your back to make sure you don't wind up dead and I'm the only one stupid enough to take that job."
A smile slowly curves its way back across Pearson's lips. "Because you believe."
"I believe in you, sure. Not every stray you come across."
[Neither the characters nor the world is mine, I just squish them together for silly PostApoc fun]
----------------
"What the hell are you doing to our Vend-a-Hack?" Bolger's voice is tight and furious and accusatory, but Pearson doesn't even look up. Carefully working at removing the hack card to set aside before he pauses and allows himself to break concentration enough to speak.
"I'll put it back together when I'm done."
"Damn right you will! I don't relish the idea of going without food, water, and ammo just because you feel like messing with that ID tag Nameless is toting around."
"There's a reason he didn't want us to destroy it."
"Because he wants to lead the fucking Draculoids right to us. The asshole was bait and you swallowed it."
Pearson shrugs, his attention back on the matter at hand and the dismantled Vend-a-Hack in front of him. "Hasn't been proven yet. Besides, he was genuinely afraid of getting exterminated himself."
"Doesn't stop him from inadvertently being bait."
"True. Although I find myself doubting they'd be going out of their way to specifically target us. They got bigger fish to try and net. Either way, we still need to find out what we can. Pass me the solder."
"Weren't you whining about almost being out of this?" Bolger snaps, not that it stops him from handing it over, and Pearson lets a vague sort of smile show.
"I can always scrounge up more. This is important."
"Right." He scoffs slightly, shooting a glare over at where the man he has come to think of as "Nameless" is dozing fitfully by the fire. "I still think we should have burned that damn thing and left him to fend for himself where we found him."
"Your reluctance is noted." He pauses, studying Bolger's face carefully for a few moments. "And weren't you complaining just a few days ago about how boring you're starting to find things?"
"No."
"Not in so many words, mind," Pearson continues, as if Bolger hadn't snapped at him, his attention back on wiring in the card. "But you were sounding awfully jealous of Crow...."
"Blackwing. For the love of god, man, you don't know what that thing could be transmitting back! Can you at least try to...."
"...and what he's gotten himself tangled up in lately. You'd think this sort of thing would appeal to you. Who knows, there could be information on here people can use. Maybe some building plans so Infernity can go and blow something else up."
"And what would you do if they were? I know for a fact you wouldn't smile and hand them over to anyone who'd use them like that."
"Probably not, no. I don't particularly agree with those methods." Pearson sighs, carefully soldering a few wires in place. "But that bridge can be dealt with when we get there. For now I just want to see what we're dealing with and what the hell spooked him so much."
Bolger simply scoffs, picking up a rock and rolling it between his hands for a moment before tossing it into the fire. His eyes focused intently on the sparks it kicks up. "I bet it's just shit everyone out here already knows. He's some sorry sap who skipped his meds one day and woke up realize that the ones he's expecting to protect him are pure fucking evil."
"We'll see." Pearson sets his tools aside and stretches. His fingers already itching to start trying to crack whatever secrets that card might hold even though he knows he has to wait for the solder to harden up, all too aware of the steady frown Bolger is keeping trained on him.
"You already got an idea, don't you? What the hell have you figured out that...."
"I don't know anything for sure," Pearson replies, holding up a hand to silence Bolger. "That's why I want to crack this first. So I'll know. Then we'll deal with him."
Bolger says nothing in response to that, simply grumbles something under his breath and leaves Pearson to his work. Asleep by the time Pearson finally manages to crack the files. Not that Pearson wakes the other man to let him know, in fact the more he reads the less inclined he is to let Bolger know anything if only because it will probably result in a dead body on their hands which is the last thing Pearson wants.
He turns the whole mess over in his mind as he carefully works on reassembling the Vend-a-Hack, finding himself thinking that maybe he should have listened to Bolger. Maybe they should have just left Nameless face down in the dust and walked away. It would have been easier.
But what's done now is done, and with a sigh he gets to his feet and gives Nameless' sleeping form a gentle shove with his boot. Inclined to face the whole thing head on, and when Nameless stirs and groggily sits up Pearson frowns and goes straight for the heart of the matter.
"You were one of them, weren't you?"
Nameless palls, his eyes darting to the side briefly. Giving a few convulsive swallows before he manages to croak out, "I don't know what you mean," and Pearson has to choke back the sudden bark of bitter laughter that tries to tear its way out of his throat.
"You know exactly what I mean. Sure you ditched the mask, and you did a good job of disguising the rest but that's a Draculoid uniform underneath all that dirt and paint. It's hard to see unless you're really, really, looking for it and I'm sure the only reason he hasn't noticed yet is because the thought hasn't occurred to him just yet." The last part tacked on with a smirk as he gives a vague nod in Bolger's direction.
"Could have stolen it."
"Could have. You wouldn't be the first to swipe one off a corpse to use for infiltration. But nobody in their right mind would wear one all the time out here and it's sort of useless for covert operations all trashed like that." He leans in close, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's your game? And keep in mind, I've already read everything you've got on this." He holds the card up between the two of them and Nameless' eyes dart to it and then back to the ground. Boot scuffing slightly in the dirt.
"Survival. It's always been survival. Things are a little less desperate, you know your needs will be taken care of...."
"Save the recruitment speech. What were you doing face down out in Zone Three acting like you were on the run?"
"I was on the run, believe it or not. Six months ago I got separated from my team for about a week. Five days spent trying to get back to Battery City without a vehicle, without food or water. And a sudden cold-turkey stop of the meds. At first I thought I was going to die. Or go crazy. But by the third day it wasn't so bad. We're on a different mix from the general public. Milder in some ways, a hell of a lot worse in others. And once it was out of my system starting again...." He gives his head a shake. "I couldn't do it. They found me, brought me home, and I tried to go back to the way things were. But I couldn't. Started hitting underground clubs on my time off. One thing lead to another and eventually I was feeding out what classified information I could get to whoever needed it."
"And then you got caught," Pearson puts in flatly, realizing that's the logical place for this particular little story to go.
"And then I got sold out," Nameless corrects him with a glare. "Maybe it was under duress, maybe even the grand revolution has a few traitors in its ranks...."
"I don't think you're the sort of person who should be complaining about traitors."
"Even still. I was lured into making one big incredibly risky extraction of information that was essentially a trap. That makes me a dead man walking that no one will miss. Draculoids don't have families. We don't have identities, they're erased as soon as we join. We don't even have much in the way of thoughts of our own...."
"Unless you go off the meds." Pearson falls silent for a moment, turning the ID card over in his hands a few times before looking Nameless in the eye, watching the other man squirm slightly. "So who did you use to be? Before all of this."
"War orphan. Grew up in a state sponsored home. Hit eighteen and decided security work was more glamorous than a factory job. They let you believe there's a chance for advancement. A few years serving the peace and then you can work your way into a nice desk job. Find a nice girl. Start a nice family. Everything nice and happy and perfect. But it doesn't turn out that way for anyone, does it?"
"Not really. What's your name?" He's asked the question before and never gotten a satisfactory answer. But maybe now....
"I don't have a catchy Zonerunning name like you. I'm kind of new to the whole thing, what with being in the camp trying to kill you until a few weeks ago."
"I don't mean that. I mean before. In case you didn't notice I'm a little more casual about the whole thing than our Warrior over there."
He's quiet for a moment, considering his options before murmuring, "Rick."
"Just Rick?"
"Just Rick."
Pearson simply nods in a quiet sort of acceptance, tucking the card back into his jacket pocket and watching with a distant interest as the motion causes Rick's face to fall slightly. Just because he has a name now doesn't mean he's about to trust the man entirely. "All right then, 'Just Rick', this is how it's going to go. We will tell my partner there your little story, and I will try to stop him from shooting you in the head. I'll even let you stick with us if you really want, although you'll have to get yourself a pair of wheels if you do. But the instant you put one foot out of line and do anything that will put either of us at risk, I will shoot you in the head myself. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
In the end, Bolger takes it better than Pearson thought he would, although the only reason he judges it as such is because no one winds up dead. But Bolger is still furious and looking about ready to take off on his own when Pearson corners him near the bikes and says quite simply, "Don't do this."
"Why the fuck not? You're willing to let the goddamn enemy in our ranks, I don't see any reason to stick around."
"He's not the enemy. He's marked for death, just like the rest of us."
"So he says!"
"He is. This," Pearson begins bluntly, holding up the ID card between them, "has a good chunk of the floor plan for BLI headquarters tucked into it. Guard stations, security cameras. Probably out of date by now, but useful in its own way. That's what he was tapped to get his hands on when he got sold out."
"If he wasn't just feeding you a line of shit. There's no way of telling if that thing is even real. Someone of his rank shouldn't have been able to get his hands on something that sensitive."
"Maybe not. But I still trust him."
"Because you always trust too easy! You swallow whatever fucking sob-story you're fed with a happy little nod and leave yourself wide open to be shot in the back."
"Because that's all we have out here. No one can survive on their own and all we can do is trust and believe that the other guy will do right by us. If not, we're worse than They are."
Bolger's expression is still twisted into something tight and angry. Biting out between clenched teeth, "I should just try to find Blackwing and see if his little pack of crazies will have me," some of the venom fading when Pearson's face falls at that and he sighs. "But I won't. Someone has to watch your back to make sure you don't wind up dead and I'm the only one stupid enough to take that job."
A smile slowly curves its way back across Pearson's lips. "Because you believe."
"I believe in you, sure. Not every stray you come across."