Chapter Text
The meeting had gone well enough although, as always, Satya had barely spoken, and it was clear when she had that what she had to say might have better been expressed by someone else. Or not expressed at all. She was not, after all, meant to be the one closing deals. But there were sometimes things she couldn’t help but address, and although any admonishments from Sanjay were usually gentle they sometimes still chafed, even when he pointed out that it was simply logical that her ire would be more properly directed toward their potential clients—although never, of course, stated to them.
It only irked her more that he was right.
She understood. But it made it no less frustrating, and so she had insisted on walking back to the Vishkar campus—their small but sufficient property with lodging and a cantina and—as Sanjay had put it—‘room to grow’. With any luck his dealings with Portero would prove that statement true.
The cool night air and the reaffirming sound of her own footsteps provided a much freer backdrop for her thoughts. It was not terribly late but the streets were largely empty all the same. Taking advantage of the Festival de Mexico had practically guaranteed there would be no interference from any of the locals and had furthermore simply provided relief in the quiet it instilled in the corporate and political districts. Clever, as always. Sanjay admittedly had a much better knack for such things than she did.
A loud boom sounded, loud enough that she imagined she could feel the earth tremble with it. The festivities had begun nearly an hour earlier and the fireworks had already been sending sparks high into the air when she had left the embassy. She supposed they had decided to bring out the big ones to kick-off the true festivities and she turned, allowing herself a glance back toward the sky. It was only smoke and the sparse glittering of fireworks that she had missed and she took a breath, releasing it slowly as if the distraction had been an opportunity for her to brush some of her irritation away. A car whooshed past fast enough to bring a faint rush of air with it and pulled her from her thoughts. She blinked as the world rushed back.
She was nearly there. There was no sense delaying it. And, if she wished, she could spend a bit of time in the gardens that bumped up against the Vishkar campus... depending on how disruptive the fireworks were—beautiful enough to allow her mind to go blank or loud enough to be a less pleasant distraction.
Satya turned, pushed open the gate, and stepped into the cooler air of the tree-lined path. She could see the lights of Vishkar in the distance and she breathed in, released it as a sigh, and started toward it.
Something moved in front of her far more quickly than she had been prepared for.
Maybe it was her distraction that allowed it, maybe she’d relaxed her mind thoroughly enough that she’d simply missed any signs of it, but it was there nonetheless. It was a shadow for only a moment; in the bright, clean light of the garden lamps it quickly came into stark reality as it loomed above her—the shape of a large, hulking figure, bare-chested and imposing and, to her dismay as she lifted her eyes to the face, masked. It was a simply massive form and as the eyes of the mask tilted downward in what she assumed was an examination of her its head tipped to the side and drew her attention to the topknot that bobbed ever-so-slightly at the top of its head.
She stopped in her tracks. And she had little time to do anything other than stare, wide-eyed, before she heard a voice behind her some distance off but not far away enough to inspire confidence.
“Pardon him, love. My mate Roadie doesn’t know the way to greet a lady.”
It was an odd voice. The accent was unmistakably Australian in its drawl but the voice itself was both reedy and rough, and while her mind was preoccupied with the man in front of her the tone seemed both jaunty and apologetic all at once. And hurried. Subtly so, but there. It was enough that she turned, looking cautiously away from the large man and taking a step back to find the owner of the voice in her line of sight.
He was thin. Ridiculously so in comparison to the other one, and she barely had time to take in his features—sharp-nosed, wild-haired, and what she had thought were stubborn shadows on his face proving on further inspection to be nothing more than streaks of soot—before a wide grin split them, white teeth and a glint of gold piercing through the ash. He raised himself from his somewhat stooped posture and lifted his hand to splay his fingers over his chest with a voice lilting jovially over the words.
“The name’s Fawkes. Jamison Fawkes.”
Satya blinked. It was all still incomprehensible and she wasn’t certain if any of it were truly happening, but as he lowered his hand in an offer of introduction for her to shake she realized it was metal. A prosthetic, and just as dirty as the rest of him, it seemed. Without her offering any immediate response he paused and looked down to it as well before uttering a quiet, high-pitched giggle, and withdrew it to replace it with his left. It was little better in terms of both cleanliness and desirability. His palm was encased in a fingerless leather glove that appeared worn-through with the soot and likely incapable of ever being fully clean. She wrinkled her nose. Her preference would be not to take it.
She must have hesitated long enough; he withdrew it with a careless shrug, apparently no worse for the wear for it, and tossed his thumb toward the large man.
“And that’s me mate, Roadhog. Like I said.”
The man behind her grunted, though if she had to find some way to characterize it… ‘not unpleasantly’ might be a decent interpretation. She had no idea what to say nor the steadiness of mind to focus on trying something meaningful, and as a result she went with the first thing that came into her head. Something she hoped she managed to make sound contradictory.
“That’s an odd name.”
The skinny one—Jamison—leaned against the trunk of a tree, his arm raised and his elbow bearing his weight. He had taken his right foot off of the ground as well, she realized. His right was a peg leg. Her brow furrowed further at that, because of course it was. She had no time to further consider it; he interrupted the thoughts she was trying to scrape together.
“Oh, he’s got a real one.” Jamison paused, squinting at the other man. “What was…”
A low rumble of irritation cut him off as the large figure spoke through the mask in what she began to suspect was a well-trod interaction.
“Mako.”
“Right! That’s it. Rutledge, ain’t it?”
Jamison didn’t bother to wait for confirmation before he turned his grin back to her, the expression beaming as if he were proud of himself. Mako’s sound of grudging confirmation came anyway. The skinny man pushed off of the wall and rested his left on his hip, pointing his right at Mako with a click of his tongue, a finger-gun, a wink, the broad grin once again exposing that glint… a gold tooth. And bewilderingly sharpened canines.
“King Jamison Fawkes and Duke Mako Rutledge at your service!” The statement was followed with a carefree laugh that sounded quite amused with itself.
Satya’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop as her eyes widened once again. Of course. How on earth had she not realized sooner?
She knew them from the news and really, how could she not? Criminals. Thieves. And they were so distinctive it was ridiculous her mind didn’t immediately identify them even with her distraction. Her heart skipped a beat. It was a shame she was back to her senses by the time the large one spoke in a low but still-intimidating voice.
“Focus, Fawkes.”
It seemed to snap the other one back to attention.
“Oh. Right.” He was thinking, obviously, by the way his features screwed together and his eyes left her for a moment as if he might find the answer in the sky. “Did you tell us your name?”
Despite their interaction having been less than a few minutes long it was fairly clear that he didn’t actually seem to remember. She considered simply affirming she had, but a glance upward at the larger man… he seemed like he might be more difficult to shake off. She didn’t feel like she had much choice but to give it.
“Satya Vaswani.”
That seemed to satisfy the lankier of the two. His smile was less manic; oddly, it seemed genuinely appreciative.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, love. We were—”
With her feet firmly under her once again she abruptly realized that she didn’t want to be there and the realization came with words immediately following it that didn’t much care if he was done speaking or not.
“And you as well. I really should be going, though.”
It threw him off guard, clearly. Unfortunately the man was fairly quick on his own feet—well, foot—and he dipped his head with an odd expression that seemed quite literally embarrassed as he spoke.
“Well, see, here’s the thing…”
She had no idea what was coming. The tone wasn’t at all threatening, nor was his posture, but she knew with instinctive, absolute certainty that she wouldn’t like what was about to be said to her. He was tapping his knuckles together and looking at her with a furrowed brow as she stared him down, his eyes flitting over her uncertainly as if gauging just how much reaction his words might spark.
“We’re gonna have to take you hostage.”
It was too baffling for her to be angry. Too alarming, as well. Neither of them seemed eager to further explain; there was silence and it lingered until she broke it with a distinct edge to her voice.
“Excuse me?”
A laugh burst from Jamison, but it wasn’t mocking—as much was immediately obvious to her. No. Strangely enough it sounded nervous, and her conviction that she had assessed it correctly was only strengthened by the appeasement he attempted in his voice and the strange, slightly lowered posture.
“No worries, love, we just need someone to come along with us for an hour or so. We sorta…” He stumbled on the thought and cleared his throat. “Well, I dunno if you know who we are.”
“Yes.” As before, she nearly cut the man off with her response and he blinked at her in a way that looked surprised, a reaction that had begun to seem ridiculous. “I do.”
Her tone was hard and likely the fierceness inherent with her fast replies didn’t hurt.
“Oh! Good.” He puzzled for a moment over it and continued on in a way that sounded much less certain. “Well, sorta.” The man shook his head, trying to move on. “Anyway, we got ourselves in a bit of a spot.”
Satya stared at him with determination. It was a look that challenged him to finish the thought and he seemed even less confident as he went on.
“… right. So we’ve got some unwanted company on our hands.”
Satya could hear sirens slowly growing in the background as if it had been on cue, or perhaps her distraction had simply kept her from hearing them from the distance, and she raised her eyes in their direction to see a high plume of smoke. Perhaps the ‘boom’ she had heard hadn’t been fireworks after all. She returned her gaze to him abruptly, wide-eyed as the night suddenly became yet more surreal.
His features had lit up at some inner thought and he stood straight, lifting both arms in an open gesture meant, she realized, to highlight her.
“So I reckon we oughta get some company that we wouldn’t mind havin’ along for the ride!”
It was shocking enough, his gesture, his words, that for the first time her stomach genuinely sank—or perhaps it was just the reality of it. The ridiculous gesture, the pose he had taken… all of it was counteracted by the self-satisfied laugh, something more of a giggle. None of it seemed real and he, in particular, seemed so variable in his presentation that she was left staring as her emotions tried to decide their best course of action. Her eyes flitted up toward the expressionless mask… the man named Mako, she reminded herself, memorizing the name. It seemed as if she could feel the stare from behind them but she had no idea how real the sensation was.
Jamison Fawkes had practically bounded around the side of her for the gesture; Mako didn’t so much as flinch as the other junker jabbed him enthusiastically in the stomach with his elbow, his chin tipping upward so that he could grin at the man excitedly.
“D’ya get it, mate? Unwanted company, wanted company?”
She was glad he hadn’t originally used that exact phrasing. There were far too many variations of ‘wanted’ that she would rather not think about.
Regardless, the man seemed quite proud of it and re-balanced, bright and cheery and carefree as he bobbed his head happily toward her.
“Thanks for completin’ our little dichotomy, love. Let’s go!”
She didn’t have to go, possibly. Neither of them grabbed her, neither of them threatened her explicitly—the ever-verbal Jamison Fawkes had already passed her down the pathway, in fact—but the stone-like form of Mako between herself and any easy form of exit said it well enough.
She hesitated for a moment longer. Jamison’s voice was already getting further away, and while she had no doubt he would be an easy one to distract there was still Mako to consider.
She shook herself. It wasn’t worth the risk in close quarters and going with them didn’t feel like an immediate danger. Once she made the decision it freed her assess the actual threat toward her, and while a glance at Mako served as a reminder, as she turned to follow the tall form of Jamison chatting amicably to no one in particular—a fact that she was fairly certain he wasn’t aware of—it was a comfort to think that if it came to needing to escape her luck might be better pushed with him as a target.
Things didn’t seem to have gone as they planned, and while the situation hadn’t allowed Satya much flexibility in the first place she couldn’t help the irritation that whatever few plans she had created—whatever few things she had been promised—most certainly didn’t go as expected.
She hadn’t been ready for a car chase. She hadn’t been ready to be held up by Mako while Jamison hunkered out of view behind her for her to serve as a human shield—despite whatever she had expected being a hostage to entail. She hadn’t ever really considered the idea much before. It wasn’t something she ever penciled in on her career path.
Neither was she particularly thrilled by the megaphone issuing warnings to their authorities pursuing them, or the wind that had utterly destroyed whatever order her hair had been clinging to, or the dust their haste kicked up that she could feel as a film on the back of her neck.
She likely ought to have been afraid, particularly considering the threats against her life that had been blared out infuriatingly close to her ear by the megaphone, but fear was the farthest thing from what she felt in her nerves. Maybe it had something to do with her introduction to them: the general strangeness and slight sense of incompetence. The lack of any overt threat. But even if there was fear there it had no chance of forcing itself in between the irritation and—once their flight slowed and any sign of the law was no longer in sight—a quickly growing impatience and deeply-rooted anger.
By the time their vehicle slowed to a stop it was at a level that she felt it needed to be expressed, and before anything further could be done she addressed both of them coldly, although she knew it was more addressed to Jamison than Mako.
“You said one hour.”
Jamison seemed to recognize the anger wasn’t exactly equally distributed and he was halfway out of the car and blinked, frozen for a second before the shock wore off. His glance toward Mako was uncertain and unhelpful and he cleared his throat as he looked back to her with his teeth gritted in some sort of nervous expression that she assumed was intended to be an mollifying smile, poorly done and more uneasy than anything else.
“Right, well… things didn’t exactly go as planned.”
She knew as much, intimately so. It was a poor excuse and it was clear he knew it, and he continued to put his foot on the ground more carefully with his eyes pointed down to it like a lifeline.
“Took a bit longer to shake the cops than we reckoned. And then all the people…”
Mako tipped his head to the side with a somewhat disagreeable grunt and stepped out of the car solidly, leaving it to bob slightly once clear of his weight. Jamison was still going, the gritted teeth still dominating his expression, one eye in a squint and his hands raised in a helpless shrug.
“Deffo didn’t really mean to end up in that parade.”
The tone for that one made it clear that even he was a bit baffled by it. He was fully settled on the ground and had fewer excuses not to look at her but he doggedly stuck to the tactic regardless.
“Can’t say that one was planned.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if Mako was both the brawn and the brains of the duo.
In truth, she wasn’t particularly interested in the details of it. By the time they both had fully absconded—Jamison offering a hand that she pointedly ignored—a hard expression had settled on her face. After abandoning the vehicle she opted instead to look over the building in front of her. It was a diner, clearly, adorned with a neon light indicating that it was open for business and all-in-all, if she were in even a remotely positive mood, could go so far as being called ‘charming’.
It was obvious they intended for her to go inside so she didn’t bother belaboring the point and instead marched toward the door before either of them had the opportunity to so much as speak. She could hear the distinctive cadence of Jamison’s steps moving hurriedly after her, could see the metal hand reaching forward at her side with the obvious intent of opening the door for her, but she was faster. She shoved it open stubbornly and ignored the too-loud ring of the bell as she stepped over the threshold and immediately found a seat for herself at the counter, not bothering to look back. She most certainly wouldn’t be sitting in a booth with them.
Jamison stumbled to the seat at her left with a few huffs of breath and eventually Mako settled easily into the seat on the seat on her right, leaving her between the two.
It was clear they were in a less well-off part of town, if not by the exterior of the buildings and the poorly maintained streets then by the look of the other patrons in the diner. Even with that fact she couldn’t possibly explain how they could be sitting in plain sight at the counter—two known criminals with a bounty on their heads and a woman who had clearly been involved in some kind of very strange evening—and yet the few other customers scattered throughout the place were calmly eating their meals and seemingly unconcerned with her small group mere feet away.
It was absolutely incomprehensible. If nothing else about the experience made the past few hours feel like a skewed comedy of reality that fact in particular had.
She didn’t realize it at first but Jamison was talking to her, and she eventually spared him her attention if only to drag herself from the sense of unreality that had fallen over her. He was smiling broadly, enough that she could see his gold tooth. His strange, discolored eyes were enthusiastic and open. If nothing else he was not the criminal she had expected, nor seen earlier in the day… although in retrospect, earlier in the day he hadn’t been acting much different. Her perception of the situation had certainly changed, though. Eventually words broke through
“You sure you don’t want anything, love? It’s all on the house. Anything ya want.”
Had he asked her before? Had she simply missed it? Confusion gave way back to irritation; it didn’t much matter if he’d already asked. Satya fixed him with a glare to back up the words.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Somehow it didn’t seem to dissuade him. He offered again, attempting something more persuasive.
“They’ve got some bonzer churros.”
If anything else her expression went colder and she didn’t bother responding, instead turning her gaze forward and staring across the counter. Despite it—regrettably—she could still see him in her peripheral vision, and it seemed as though making a point to try to focus as much as possible on the wall in front of her only highlighted him more. She could see the way his lips curled downward in what seemed to be a genuine frown and he looked at her for a moment longer before casting the same uncertain look about the diner before seeming to settle in and beckoned the man behind the counter over to place an order. She didn’t catch the words. She wasn’t interested in them. In fact, with his attention finally elsewhere her shoulders took the opportunity to relax slightly. It wasn’t long until it was interrupted.
The man behind the counter moved in front of her and fixed her with a friendly, soothing smile and the words that came from him were offered accommodatingly in a gentle, fluid accent. “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
It caught her off guard and she blinked. There wasn’t harm in a small comfort, particularly given the events of the day and the fact that she wasn’t certain how much longer the ordeal would last. Despite the innocence of the request it took her a moment to find her bearings and took a small shake of her head to reset her thoughts.
“… I think I would enjoy some tea, yes.”
He nodded agreeably as he spoke.
“What kind?”
“Chai, please.”
The man paused as he placed his hands at the edge of the counter and leaned back with his eyes lowered and searching before he returned his attention to her with an apologetic shake of his head.
“No chai. Sorry.”
She felt too tired even to sigh but it was worth the effort to not entirely write other options off.
“Do you have anything similar?”
“Hmm.” He looked at her with an eye gently narrowed in thought before some assessment had been made and he smiled as he turned away. “We’ll try champurrado.”
It was refreshing to speak to someone other than the junkers; it felt like she’d been plucked from the garden by them an eternity ago, and the man was kind and accommodating, both of which allowed her to breathe easier. It was easy enough to block out the world before her tea arrived.
She took a sip without hesitation. It was quite good, and indeed close enough for her tired mind. Were she feeling more capable she would offer the man behind the counter a thank you and perhaps even a smile, but instead she simply held the mug between her hands, breathing out a sigh as she let the aroma take over her attention.
Something pricked her senses and she lifted her head, turning her gaze to the side. Jamison had leaned partway over the counter, watching her with a pleased smile and those same bright eyes. A bright red drink had been set in front of him but by the looks of it he hadn’t touched it.
She had no idea what to make of it. After a moment of staring in turn she pulled her attention abruptly back to her cup, huffing a breath of air and furrowing her brow before taking a long drink. She had closed her eyes in an attempt to focus fully on the warm, sweet comfort of the beverage in her hands when Jamison’s voice interrupted her mid-sip and her eyes snapped open. She felt her fingers grasp the cup more tightly but continued to hold it resolutely up, as if the solidity of it might block his existence out. It didn’t work.
“So. Where do you wanna go now? We can go anywhere ya like.”
She was surprised enough at the idea that she nearly choked on her drink. Her response was slow but deliberate and she lowered the cup with it.
“I want to go home.”
She could feel his enthusiasm flag more than actually see it. His voice dropped to something slightly quieter as he went on with less certainty in it.
“You sure? There’s heaps of places open late. Arcades, dance places, that sorta thing. Could even hit up the festival. Fireworks, piñatas, food. I reckon no one’s gonna be too interested in us. Plenty of other things to keep their attention.”
She turned her eyes to him in a fierce and unwavering stare as she glanced over him quickly. The peg leg. The heavy-looking arm. He had to have meant as a spectator. The much more important thought came before the words; had she been safe going home hours ago? How much time had she spent with them unnecessarily?
She clipped her tongue over the syllables, punctuating each repeated word.
“I want to go home .”
His expression was taken over by a sudden frown, as if her response had somehow been unexpected. She could see with absolute clarity the way his thought was coming to a slow, suffering end.
“Just figured we could… uh...”
He let it die under her stare and cleared his throat, looking up to Mako for guidance.
“Roadie? Could you…?”
The large man gave him a blunt but affirmative grunt and stood, looking over his shoulder at her in indication that she should do the same.
“Come on.”
She was more than happy to oblige. It was almost unbelievable, actually, that she was being allowed to go so easily.
She shoved the cup onto the counter top—abandoning it with utter carelessness—and got to her feet as well to follow close on Mako’s heels as he lumbered toward the door, only allowing herself to recognize Jamison’s peg-legged cadence moving behind her as an afterthought. It was odd to think that she was suddenly and undeniably ecstatic to be close to the large, rough-looking man as he moved out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. Her feet held as she stopped at the curb.
Mako moved without hesitation into the middle of the street and raised a hand, his large palm more than enough to bring the car that had been approaching to a sudden, hard stop, the brakes hissing with effort. The automobile had no roof; through the open air she could see that driver looked to be in shock. She felt a pang of sympathy for him as Mako went around the driver’s side and placed a hand on the door where the window had already been lowered, his weight pushing the automobile ever-so-slightly off-kilter. The driver was met with Mako’s low, rumbling voice. It still carried remarkably well.
“You take passengers?”
The man nodded in a stunted, stuttering movement and without hesitation Mako looked up, clearly indicating this was her ride. Under normal circumstances she would be less than thrilled to take a ride from a stranger, but the day was the farthest from normal she’d ever experienced. She darted forward and slid into the backseat eagerly, her discomfort completely buried by relief.
Mako was still at the stranger’s window. She heard the rumbling threat in his voice as he made himself clear and the man’s reply stuttered just as his movements had.
“You take her wherever she wants to go.”
“Y-yes. Yes of course.”
Mako’s hand was out of sight for a moment before he lifted it and placed a literal gold bar in the stranger’s hand. He hesitated before taking it. She could see the entirely unconvincing attempt at a grateful smile on his face through the rear view mirror.
She had little time to feel bad for him. Jamison was suddenly at her window, his hands on the edge of it.
“You alright goin’ alone?”
The concern seemed to be sincere but the words were beyond belief. Her expression registered deep bafflement and indignation at the idea before she fully processed it.
“I would prefer it.”
The meaning was absolutely clear; his presence was most certainly not wanted. He hesitated for a second before the uneasiness of the position and his failing attempt at finding anything to say became too awkward and stepped back from the car, bobbing on his toes in a way that may have been an attempt to cheer himself.
“Yeah. A’right. Have a good one.”
Satya didn’t answer. There was no obligation to and she had no interest in it regardless.
The Junkers had both withdrawn to allow the car to make its escape and she could see the white of the driver’s knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel, not so much as attempting to glance back to her. The slight shake in his voice was understandable, but she was too tired to bother trying to comfort it in her reply.
“Where to?”
“The Vishkar campus, please.”