I was caught in my defeat, you're alone and incomplete...
Like I said before, the wait for Banlieue 13-Ultimatum is slowly driving me up the wall. I'm in the middle of a giant WIP that fills in after the end of the first movie, but in the meantime the behind-the-scenes snippets from the sequel have inspired some other stuff. This was my first (failed) go to stop _backpages_' whining.
Title: La Prise
Fandom: Banlieue 13-Ultimatum
Summary: Two years is a long time. Rated M.
Disclaimer: Ce n'est pas à moi.
First up, a bit of background. Here's what we know from the filming diary on the official site:
1. It's been two years since the first movie.
2. The wall around Banlieue 13, which was supposed to come down at the end of that movie, is higher and stronger than ever.
3. The Parisian police are basically at war with the five ethnic gangs inside Banlieue 13.
4. At some point, Damien and Leïto reunite to save the city.
5. Damien and Leïto are still badass.
Here's what we don't know:
1. What the hell kept the government from destroying the wall like they promised.
2. Why the hell Damien and Leïto appear not to have seen each other for two years.
3. What the hell happens when they finally meet again.
4. What the hell is going on that involves helicopters, swarms of free runners, and ghetto chase scenes.
5. Why the hell Leïto's unzipped hoodie and Damien's scruffy beanie are so ridiculously hot.
Okay, maybe not that last one. XP But seriously, if anyone can translate the filming diaries I will love you forever. For all I know I've gotten it totally wrong and Damien and Leïto have been fighting the government together since the first movie. In which case, YAYE! But if not, I need some explanation for the major angst of keeping them apart that long. This is my attempt. If the filmmakers decide on a similar scene I will certainly not complain!
La Prise
Leïto’s heart pounds in his throat as he clears the last police car and bolts around the back of the garage. His shoes skid slightly on wet pavement but he doesn’t slow or look back; angry shouts and the clatter of guns and boots tell him that at least three cops remain in pursuit. Leïto swipes the rain out of his face and cuts across the busy street, hurdling the hood of a van before sliding across the back of a sedan. As tires screech in his wake he glances back to see his pursuers losing ground in the heavy traffic. Breathing hard, he rounds the corner and lurches to a stop.
It’s a trap. Five policemen in riot gear are already waiting for him, their wet facemasks glinting in the dark. Leïto eyes the narrow alleyway behind them and weighs his options. He’s not going back. Before they can raise their weapons, he charges the middle two officers. They go down in a heap, knocking into their comrades, but the fifth cop leaps over them and after Leïto. A few yards into the alley he hurls himself onto Leïto's back and sends them both crashing to the ground in a spray of water. Leïto tucks and rolls, thrashing against the iron grip until a familiar voice hisses in his ear.
‘Stop, Leïto! It’s Fantômas!’
Shock deadens Leïto’s limbs long enough for the officer to pin him against the pavement, both arms trapped behind him. The cop’s kneepad digs into the small of his back and he can’t turn to see the face beneath the mask. He blinks in the rain, head reeling with two years of questions and distance, but he knows he is not mistaken when his captor hastily leans down to whisper again.
‘They’ll think I’m taking you in. Do you trust me?’
Leïto hesitates. So much has changed since they last met, but he has little choice. He nods.
Immediately Damien’s weight vanishes and Leïto feels himself hauled upright, wrists still held firmly against his back. Dimly through the wet he glimpses two of the other officers entering the alley, and Damien’s breath gusts hot behind his ear.
‘Keep struggling, but when I hit you, stay down, okay?’
Leïto swallows. ‘Deal.’ He lunges sideways in Damien’s grasp, cursing and kicking out as forcefully as he dares without actually breaking free. Damien twists with him, playing up the fight, shouting warnings about resisting arrest. Just as his comrades arrive, Damien cracks his baton across the base of Leïto’s skull.
The glancing blow is only hard enough to look convincing, but Leïto quickly goes limp and slumps to his knees. Damien bends over him and addresses the other officers.
‘He’s out. Pack it in.’ Supporting him with one arm, Damien buckles a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Leïto forces himself not to bristle against the cold steel.
‘Need a hand?’ Through slitted eyes, Leïto watches a second set of boots join Damien’s.
‘I can handle it.’ Leïto suppresses a whuff of surprise as Damien stoops to hoist him over a padded shoulder. ‘Rimoux and Soutan are still down. See to it they get back to the station.’
Heavy footsteps retreat toward the entrance of the alley. Damien follows more slowly, one arm looped over Leïto’s legs to hold him in place. Leïto’s cheek bounces awkwardly against Damien’s holster, but he keeps his eyes closed and his shoulders loose as they move out into the street. The rain slides down in thick sheets, muffling the click of a car door when Damien stops a minute later.
Leïto risks a peek as Damien bundles him into the back of the cruiser, but all he can see is a gleam of pale eyes under the mask.
'Stay low until I stop the car.'
The door slams shut and Leïto hears Damien settle behind the wheel. They drive for what seems a long time, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. Leïto has no idea if they are being pursued, or even what direction they took. He picks nervously at the handcuffs, shivering in his wet clothes. If he was wrong about Damien...
The car stops suddenly. Leïto sits up a little and peers out the window. It's very dark, no sign of streetlights or buildings nearby. Then the back door opens and the light from the cabin frames Damien's protective vest. He climbs in beside Leïto, pulling the door shut, and tugs off the face shield. Water drips onto the seat between them.
'Sorry about your head. Anything broken?'
Leïto stares at him. Damien’s face seems a little more lined, more guarded than he remembered, and the black beanie lends his features a hint of menace. Leïto has to fight a sudden urge to hit him. Two years, two fucking years, he wants to yell. Instead he nods at the window.
‘Where are we?’
‘Safe-for now. Outside the city.’ Leïto tenses instinctively as Damien reaches for his belt. ‘Relax!’ Damien raises his palms, showing a set of keys for the handcuffs. ‘I just saved your neck, remember?’
Leïto eyes him warily. He can’t quite keep the edge from his voice. ‘How’d you find me?’
‘I’ve been looking for you ever since I got back.’ Damien’s mouth turns up in a wry smile at Leïto’s look of surprise. ‘What’d you think, I’ve been sipping tea?’ His expression hardens again. ‘The colonel’s dead, Leïto.’
Leïto’s eyes widen. ‘Murdered?’
Damien nods. ‘They posted me to Quebec when I tried to investigate, even sent a couple agents out to finish me off.’ He sounds weary and sad, and Leïto’s anger turns to guilt when he continues. ‘It took me months just to get back into the country. Even disguised I couldn’t risk the blockade at Banlieue 13, and besides I thought-’
‘You thought I started the fighting!’ Leïto leans away, insulted.
Damien’s eyes flash dangerously. ‘No, asshole, I thought they might have killed you, too!’
Leïto grimaces, ears burning, as Damien plucks angrily at his leg guards. ‘You think they’re after me?’ he ventures after a moment.
Damien gives him a withering look. ‘How many units were chasing you tonight? Seem standard to you?’
Leïto shakes his head. ‘But why? I’m not running a gang.’
Damien sighs. ‘All I know is Krüger wasn’t the big fish. Someone else is behind this war, and they want us both dead.’ He yanks off his gloves. ‘After tonight it won’t take them long to figure out we’re not.’
Leïto’s throat tightens with a sick swoop of realization. ‘I’ve blown your cover...’
Damien shrugs, not meeting his gaze. ‘It was only a matter of time.’ He starts on his elbow pads. ‘Never liked that unit anyway.’
‘Shit, Damien, I’m sorry.’ Leïto fidgets wretchedly. ‘I thought-’
‘I know,’ Damien cuts him off. He half smiles and adds quietly, ‘Two years is a long time.’
Leïto lets out a long breath. ‘Yeah,’ he nods slowly.
‘Here,’ Damien shakes himself, voice gruff, ‘give me those.’ He releases the handcuffs and tucks them back into his pouch, and Leïto’s mouth twitches.
‘What is it with you and those cuffs? Every time we meet you’re trying to slap me in a pair.’
Damien looks up sharply, and suddenly the old rhythm clicks between them again. ‘As I recall, you started that.’ He grins and taps a canister on his belt. ‘You’d have preferred tear gas?’
Leïto snorts. ‘Maybe next time.’
‘No chance,’ says Damien, rubbing a kink in the back of his neck. ‘All this gear is a pain in the ass.’ He twists awkwardly to unbuckle his shoulder pads, banging his elbow against the door, and Leïto catches his hand with a smirk.
‘I’ll do it.’ He shifts closer and unclips the pads while Damien peels off his holster and backstrap. Leïto pats down the vest, searching for the fasteners.
‘On the side,’ Damien points, lifting his arm. Leïto bends across him, grapples with the belt for a moment in the dark, and finally manages to cast it off, revealing several sets of velcro straps. He swears in disbelief, but Damien chuckles and snatches them loose. ‘Just pull.’
The cramped quarters make it very difficult to maneuver. Leïto half-kneels on the seat, struggling to get a better grip on the heavy vest, and at last yanks it over Damien’s head with a grunt. The momentum knocks him back against the doorframe as Damien topples forward, just catching himself before he lands on Leïto’s chest.
For a moment neither of them moves. Leïto can hear the rain drumming against the roof of the car, feel the rush of heat between them and the pounding in his ears. He lets the vest slip to the floor and slowly reaches up to slide the beanie off Damien’s head, grinning when the close buzz tickles his palm. This is the Damien he remembered.
‘Leïto...’ Damien’s voice is hesitant, unsure, but Leïto is finished with questions.
‘Two years is a long time,’ he repeats, fingers curling around the nape of Damien’s neck.
Damien’s breath hitches, and then they are both straining together, mouths crashing hard as their hands fumble for purchase in damp clothes. Leïto’s boot flails out and hits the console, and he kicks against it to keep from rolling onto the floor when Damien’s mouth dips to his throat. With a growl Damien catches his leg and hauls Leïto down on the narrow seat, full weight trapping him in place. Leïto groans, scrabbling for the zipper on Damien’s uniform, and wrenches it open to the waist. Hard muscles bunch beneath his palms as he slides his hands under the sodden tank to clench across Damien’s back, pressing him closer. Damien shudders against him, belly tightening when Leïto nips his collarbone. His own hands are busy at Leïto’s shoulders, frantically peeling away the wet hoodie to trace familiar tattoos. Leïto squirms and clutches at Damien’s hip, breath ragged.
‘How long do we have?’ he grates out.
Damien stills, panting, and rests their foreheads together. His eyes dim. ‘Til morning.’
It isn’t enough, not nearly enough after all this time, but it’s better than nothing. With a moan Leïto tugs Damien down again, both of them shaking with want. Their mouths meet in a searing, desperate kiss, and for a long while the fear of discovery is forgotten. As Damien’s arms close around him once more, Leïto knows he’s already caught.
Title: La Prise
Fandom: Banlieue 13-Ultimatum
Summary: Two years is a long time. Rated M.
Disclaimer: Ce n'est pas à moi.
First up, a bit of background. Here's what we know from the filming diary on the official site:
1. It's been two years since the first movie.
2. The wall around Banlieue 13, which was supposed to come down at the end of that movie, is higher and stronger than ever.
3. The Parisian police are basically at war with the five ethnic gangs inside Banlieue 13.
4. At some point, Damien and Leïto reunite to save the city.
5. Damien and Leïto are still badass.
Here's what we don't know:
1. What the hell kept the government from destroying the wall like they promised.
2. Why the hell Damien and Leïto appear not to have seen each other for two years.
3. What the hell happens when they finally meet again.
4. What the hell is going on that involves helicopters, swarms of free runners, and ghetto chase scenes.
5. Why the hell Leïto's unzipped hoodie and Damien's scruffy beanie are so ridiculously hot.
Okay, maybe not that last one. XP But seriously, if anyone can translate the filming diaries I will love you forever. For all I know I've gotten it totally wrong and Damien and Leïto have been fighting the government together since the first movie. In which case, YAYE! But if not, I need some explanation for the major angst of keeping them apart that long. This is my attempt. If the filmmakers decide on a similar scene I will certainly not complain!
La Prise
Leïto’s heart pounds in his throat as he clears the last police car and bolts around the back of the garage. His shoes skid slightly on wet pavement but he doesn’t slow or look back; angry shouts and the clatter of guns and boots tell him that at least three cops remain in pursuit. Leïto swipes the rain out of his face and cuts across the busy street, hurdling the hood of a van before sliding across the back of a sedan. As tires screech in his wake he glances back to see his pursuers losing ground in the heavy traffic. Breathing hard, he rounds the corner and lurches to a stop.
It’s a trap. Five policemen in riot gear are already waiting for him, their wet facemasks glinting in the dark. Leïto eyes the narrow alleyway behind them and weighs his options. He’s not going back. Before they can raise their weapons, he charges the middle two officers. They go down in a heap, knocking into their comrades, but the fifth cop leaps over them and after Leïto. A few yards into the alley he hurls himself onto Leïto's back and sends them both crashing to the ground in a spray of water. Leïto tucks and rolls, thrashing against the iron grip until a familiar voice hisses in his ear.
‘Stop, Leïto! It’s Fantômas!’
Shock deadens Leïto’s limbs long enough for the officer to pin him against the pavement, both arms trapped behind him. The cop’s kneepad digs into the small of his back and he can’t turn to see the face beneath the mask. He blinks in the rain, head reeling with two years of questions and distance, but he knows he is not mistaken when his captor hastily leans down to whisper again.
‘They’ll think I’m taking you in. Do you trust me?’
Leïto hesitates. So much has changed since they last met, but he has little choice. He nods.
Immediately Damien’s weight vanishes and Leïto feels himself hauled upright, wrists still held firmly against his back. Dimly through the wet he glimpses two of the other officers entering the alley, and Damien’s breath gusts hot behind his ear.
‘Keep struggling, but when I hit you, stay down, okay?’
Leïto swallows. ‘Deal.’ He lunges sideways in Damien’s grasp, cursing and kicking out as forcefully as he dares without actually breaking free. Damien twists with him, playing up the fight, shouting warnings about resisting arrest. Just as his comrades arrive, Damien cracks his baton across the base of Leïto’s skull.
The glancing blow is only hard enough to look convincing, but Leïto quickly goes limp and slumps to his knees. Damien bends over him and addresses the other officers.
‘He’s out. Pack it in.’ Supporting him with one arm, Damien buckles a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Leïto forces himself not to bristle against the cold steel.
‘Need a hand?’ Through slitted eyes, Leïto watches a second set of boots join Damien’s.
‘I can handle it.’ Leïto suppresses a whuff of surprise as Damien stoops to hoist him over a padded shoulder. ‘Rimoux and Soutan are still down. See to it they get back to the station.’
Heavy footsteps retreat toward the entrance of the alley. Damien follows more slowly, one arm looped over Leïto’s legs to hold him in place. Leïto’s cheek bounces awkwardly against Damien’s holster, but he keeps his eyes closed and his shoulders loose as they move out into the street. The rain slides down in thick sheets, muffling the click of a car door when Damien stops a minute later.
Leïto risks a peek as Damien bundles him into the back of the cruiser, but all he can see is a gleam of pale eyes under the mask.
'Stay low until I stop the car.'
The door slams shut and Leïto hears Damien settle behind the wheel. They drive for what seems a long time, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. Leïto has no idea if they are being pursued, or even what direction they took. He picks nervously at the handcuffs, shivering in his wet clothes. If he was wrong about Damien...
The car stops suddenly. Leïto sits up a little and peers out the window. It's very dark, no sign of streetlights or buildings nearby. Then the back door opens and the light from the cabin frames Damien's protective vest. He climbs in beside Leïto, pulling the door shut, and tugs off the face shield. Water drips onto the seat between them.
'Sorry about your head. Anything broken?'
Leïto stares at him. Damien’s face seems a little more lined, more guarded than he remembered, and the black beanie lends his features a hint of menace. Leïto has to fight a sudden urge to hit him. Two years, two fucking years, he wants to yell. Instead he nods at the window.
‘Where are we?’
‘Safe-for now. Outside the city.’ Leïto tenses instinctively as Damien reaches for his belt. ‘Relax!’ Damien raises his palms, showing a set of keys for the handcuffs. ‘I just saved your neck, remember?’
Leïto eyes him warily. He can’t quite keep the edge from his voice. ‘How’d you find me?’
‘I’ve been looking for you ever since I got back.’ Damien’s mouth turns up in a wry smile at Leïto’s look of surprise. ‘What’d you think, I’ve been sipping tea?’ His expression hardens again. ‘The colonel’s dead, Leïto.’
Leïto’s eyes widen. ‘Murdered?’
Damien nods. ‘They posted me to Quebec when I tried to investigate, even sent a couple agents out to finish me off.’ He sounds weary and sad, and Leïto’s anger turns to guilt when he continues. ‘It took me months just to get back into the country. Even disguised I couldn’t risk the blockade at Banlieue 13, and besides I thought-’
‘You thought I started the fighting!’ Leïto leans away, insulted.
Damien’s eyes flash dangerously. ‘No, asshole, I thought they might have killed you, too!’
Leïto grimaces, ears burning, as Damien plucks angrily at his leg guards. ‘You think they’re after me?’ he ventures after a moment.
Damien gives him a withering look. ‘How many units were chasing you tonight? Seem standard to you?’
Leïto shakes his head. ‘But why? I’m not running a gang.’
Damien sighs. ‘All I know is Krüger wasn’t the big fish. Someone else is behind this war, and they want us both dead.’ He yanks off his gloves. ‘After tonight it won’t take them long to figure out we’re not.’
Leïto’s throat tightens with a sick swoop of realization. ‘I’ve blown your cover...’
Damien shrugs, not meeting his gaze. ‘It was only a matter of time.’ He starts on his elbow pads. ‘Never liked that unit anyway.’
‘Shit, Damien, I’m sorry.’ Leïto fidgets wretchedly. ‘I thought-’
‘I know,’ Damien cuts him off. He half smiles and adds quietly, ‘Two years is a long time.’
Leïto lets out a long breath. ‘Yeah,’ he nods slowly.
‘Here,’ Damien shakes himself, voice gruff, ‘give me those.’ He releases the handcuffs and tucks them back into his pouch, and Leïto’s mouth twitches.
‘What is it with you and those cuffs? Every time we meet you’re trying to slap me in a pair.’
Damien looks up sharply, and suddenly the old rhythm clicks between them again. ‘As I recall, you started that.’ He grins and taps a canister on his belt. ‘You’d have preferred tear gas?’
Leïto snorts. ‘Maybe next time.’
‘No chance,’ says Damien, rubbing a kink in the back of his neck. ‘All this gear is a pain in the ass.’ He twists awkwardly to unbuckle his shoulder pads, banging his elbow against the door, and Leïto catches his hand with a smirk.
‘I’ll do it.’ He shifts closer and unclips the pads while Damien peels off his holster and backstrap. Leïto pats down the vest, searching for the fasteners.
‘On the side,’ Damien points, lifting his arm. Leïto bends across him, grapples with the belt for a moment in the dark, and finally manages to cast it off, revealing several sets of velcro straps. He swears in disbelief, but Damien chuckles and snatches them loose. ‘Just pull.’
The cramped quarters make it very difficult to maneuver. Leïto half-kneels on the seat, struggling to get a better grip on the heavy vest, and at last yanks it over Damien’s head with a grunt. The momentum knocks him back against the doorframe as Damien topples forward, just catching himself before he lands on Leïto’s chest.
For a moment neither of them moves. Leïto can hear the rain drumming against the roof of the car, feel the rush of heat between them and the pounding in his ears. He lets the vest slip to the floor and slowly reaches up to slide the beanie off Damien’s head, grinning when the close buzz tickles his palm. This is the Damien he remembered.
‘Leïto...’ Damien’s voice is hesitant, unsure, but Leïto is finished with questions.
‘Two years is a long time,’ he repeats, fingers curling around the nape of Damien’s neck.
Damien’s breath hitches, and then they are both straining together, mouths crashing hard as their hands fumble for purchase in damp clothes. Leïto’s boot flails out and hits the console, and he kicks against it to keep from rolling onto the floor when Damien’s mouth dips to his throat. With a growl Damien catches his leg and hauls Leïto down on the narrow seat, full weight trapping him in place. Leïto groans, scrabbling for the zipper on Damien’s uniform, and wrenches it open to the waist. Hard muscles bunch beneath his palms as he slides his hands under the sodden tank to clench across Damien’s back, pressing him closer. Damien shudders against him, belly tightening when Leïto nips his collarbone. His own hands are busy at Leïto’s shoulders, frantically peeling away the wet hoodie to trace familiar tattoos. Leïto squirms and clutches at Damien’s hip, breath ragged.
‘How long do we have?’ he grates out.
Damien stills, panting, and rests their foreheads together. His eyes dim. ‘Til morning.’
It isn’t enough, not nearly enough after all this time, but it’s better than nothing. With a moan Leïto tugs Damien down again, both of them shaking with want. Their mouths meet in a searing, desperate kiss, and for a long while the fear of discovery is forgotten. As Damien’s arms close around him once more, Leïto knows he’s already caught.