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deannawolTitle: Dreaming in Cordite
Author Name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deannawol
Artist Name:sandrainthesun
Genre: RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Sam Ferris, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Christian Kane, Various Others.
Rating: 18 Overall – Sexual situations, graphic violence in places and adult language
Warnings: Slash (M/M) relationship, oral sex, violence, off-screen death of a non J2 character.
Word Count: ~51,000
~#~#~
The Scorpion tore through the streets as JD pumped the gas. He didn’t usually get a chance to ride his pride and joy but tonight he got to dust off his baby and let her scream through the streets. Tonight, he was hitting the various scum-spots around the city and scaring answers out of anyone who looked like they might know something.
So far, the mostly legal inquiries hadn’t dug out anything worthwhile. Not that he'd expected anything different; this had been a professional job from start to finish. He had a couple of names, but they’d only lead to a couple of decomposing corpses in a low rent apartment. He’d had his tech guys run over it but they might as well have been looking at a blank sheet of paper. He had to admit to a grudging respect for the bastard behind the whole operation. He ran a tight ship, clean too, but if there was one thing that JD had learned in his years, it was that no one was perfect. He’d slip up sooner or later and when he did, JD planned to be there with a very large gun and a smile on his face.
As it was, JD was focusing on the merc who’d gone after Jared. He’d talked it over with Jared a little, trying to get some details but the kid wasn’t ready to talk yet so JD was going on what he wasn’t saying. Jared wasn't exactly a closed book and damn if JD hadn't as good as raised him. He’d been there the day Jared had been born, took care of him for the past 19 years. He’d gone to his soccer games, his little league and every other five minute obsession he’d had growing up. He could read the boy like a book and that was about all that was stopping him from screaming in frustration seeing the kid that raw, that hurt. Didn’t exactly help that he had no one to pin this on yet, but once he had… That bastard would regret the day his momma ever spat him out.
He pulled the bike to a stop in the alleyway beside a well-known merc bar, his fourth tonight. Dismounting, JD double tapped the security button on his key ring.
COUNTER THEFT MEASURES ACTIVE IN FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE.
The computer’s voice was soft and comforting, completely at odds with the vicious measures that she’d take to defend herself. Most of them were street legal. JD tugged the collar of his armoured coat up. It wouldn’t give him much extra protection but in places like these, every little counted. He pushed open the door and walked straight to the bar. The place was relatively empty. It was only about three in the morning. Every merc worth his guns would still be out and about, earning his pay check or blowing off a little steam. But give it about an hour, maybe two, and this place would be filled to the cracked and peeling ceiling.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, looking him up and down.
Looking over the man’s shoulder to the packed counter behind him, JD asked, “What’s good?”
“Nuttin, but it’s all cheap.”
JD smirked, “Then gimme whatever doesn’t taste like rat piss.”
Shaking his head, the barman dug out a bottle of clear liquid with Cyrillic writing on it and poured it into a glass for him, “Best we got in here.”
JD slid a credchip across the bar, holding his hand up as the barman went to hand back the change. The barman frowned.
“Looking to find out a little something,” JD dropped his voice just to make sure that no one would overhear them.
“We got booze from all the cheapest wholesalers in the city, got a few exotics but that’s about all we sell here,” the barman replied. “That clear?”
JD nodded, “Sensible way to be.” He paused, taking a second to think He watched the man serve another customer, his eyes keeping a watch on JD at the other end of the bar. Reminded him of a couple of friends who’d dropped outta enlisted life to live the dream of a bar back home. The corners of a very familiar tattoo peeking out from the barkeeps t-shirt sleeve confirmed his thoughts. “You look like a man who did his time in the Corps, am I right?”
“Five years in the Hundred and fifth,” the man confirmed, “You?”
JD nodded, pushing down his coat enough to bare the tattoo on his left bicep, “Yeah, spent more than my share with the thirty ninth.”
The bartender smiled widely, “Good unit. See now this puts a completely different spin on this, my friend. Could technically say we’re just swapping stories we heard in the bar.”
JD couldn’t help but laugh, sliding another generous chip across the bar along with his empty glass.
“So what you lookin’ for, friend?” the barman asked.
“You heard about the corp hit that went down ‘bout two weeks ago?” JD asked, swirling the liquid in his glass. “You heard anyone boastin’ about being involved?”
“Man, half the city was glued to their screens over that one. Good, tight job,” the barman poured himself a large drink. “Dunno how the hell they pulled it off but it took a hell of a lot of guts.”
“Sure did,” JD agreed, grudgingly. “Jobs like that’re golden. Pull something that sweet, won’t have to buy your own drinks for a couple of months.”
“So why you looking for them? You don’t look like a cop,” the bartender threw back the drink.
“You said it yourself, took guts and precision,” JD took a sip of the vodka, “They proved they can work as a team ‘gainst a hard target. Who wouldn’t wanna hire those guys?”
“Team that could pull that shit ain't amateurs and pros that good don't come cheap. It'd cost a fair bit,” the bartender mused.
JD took another drink, “I got a bit set aside, but I got a few guys who’ll go in on this with me if I need it. But I need to make sure it’s not a fluke, ya know? I seen some trained grunts who looked mighty fine all lined up on parade but get 'em away from the Gunny and they were as much use as the boys goin’ thru boot!”
The barman considered JD for a moment, “There’s a couple of lads, come in fairly regular. They’ve been on a high later, no specific details but timing’s about right. Good guys, ex-mil for most of them, but they got a few street guys with them to balance them out. Should be in about six if you’re still about, otherwise, I can pass on your details…”
“Don’t have anywhere better to be, and the booze isn’t that bad,” JD smiled, holding his glass out for a refill.
“You haven’t tasted the beer!”
JD laughed, “With a recommendation like that, I think I'd best keep it that way.”
He passed the next couple of hours just chatting, watching the scum of the city drown their failures in the cheap beer. JD did the same, or appeared to. However, he’d wager that he was a hell of a lot more clear headed than anyone else in the bar with the possible exception of the bartender. Fantastic little things, toxin binders, little nanites designed to clear out all the crud from your blood. Sure they were designed against poisons and gases but they worked just as well against whisky and vodka. A quick flick every now and then and they stripped out even the slight buzz of drunkenness.
A nod from the bartender told him that his targets were here. JD turned slightly in the chair, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Four guys, all armour-clad and fresh from the streets. They moved like panthers, sleek and dangerous, alert to their surroundings and ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice. They headed straight for the back of the bar and pulled up a table, moving the chairs so that none of them had their back to the room.
JD knocked back his drink back, and flicked his toxin binders on again. In moments, he could feel his head clear, no trace of the vodka anywhere. He needed all his wits if he’s going to pull this con and get information. Taking a deep breath, JD turned on his seat ready to go over to the targets. He knew that his gun sat ready at the small of his back and he had several knives secreted around himself.
The door slammed open again. JD flinched and ducked his head, caution guiding his actions.
“Yo, Rick!” a voice called across the bar.
One of the men at the table looked up, smiling widely, “Steve!”
JD watched the men slap each other on the shoulder before sharing an enthusiastic hug. The other men shared handshakes with ‘Steve’. It wasn’t until he turned to shout at the bartender that JD saw his face. JD turned, picking up his half full glass of vodka. The addition of this new member of the party was an unexpected road bump. Hard to play undercover when someone knew what you looked like.
A raised finger called the bartender over.
“You know who he is?” JD asked.
The bartender nodded, “Yeah, comes in occasionally. Think he’s a brother, cousin, something.”
“Shit!” JD cursed, his hand coming up to rub his eyes.
“You okay?” the bartender asked.
JD forced a smile, “Yeah, but that last vodka really threw me, I guess. Shit, I can’t go over there like this. Look, could you do me a favour and drop my number over with their drinks, tell ‘em I might have a job for them?”
“Sure.”
JD took out a scrap of paper and scribbled down the number of his favourite pizza joint. He reckoned they wouldn’t worry about it tonight and well, even if they did, all they’d get was Mario trying to sell them his world famous sausage and mushroom special.
Laughing, the bartender shook his head, picked up the paper and went to serve the next customer. JD dropped a cred chip on the bar and left quietly, his mind churning. These are the guys, supposedly, that pulled off the assassinations and honestly, JD was inclined to believe it. Especially given that their ‘friend’ was none other than Steve Carlson, the personal security advisor to Christian Kane who had just been moved up the chain of command to the Acting CEO of the business empire. Looked like he’d found his rat. Now all he had to do was prove it.
Master Fic Post | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | Epilogue | Master Art Post | Soundtrack
Author Name:
deannawolArtist Name:
sandrainthesunGenre: RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Sam Ferris, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Christian Kane, Various Others.
Rating: 18 Overall – Sexual situations, graphic violence in places and adult language
Warnings: Slash (M/M) relationship, oral sex, violence, off-screen death of a non J2 character.
Word Count: ~51,000
~#~#~
The Scorpion tore through the streets as JD pumped the gas. He didn’t usually get a chance to ride his pride and joy but tonight he got to dust off his baby and let her scream through the streets. Tonight, he was hitting the various scum-spots around the city and scaring answers out of anyone who looked like they might know something.
So far, the mostly legal inquiries hadn’t dug out anything worthwhile. Not that he'd expected anything different; this had been a professional job from start to finish. He had a couple of names, but they’d only lead to a couple of decomposing corpses in a low rent apartment. He’d had his tech guys run over it but they might as well have been looking at a blank sheet of paper. He had to admit to a grudging respect for the bastard behind the whole operation. He ran a tight ship, clean too, but if there was one thing that JD had learned in his years, it was that no one was perfect. He’d slip up sooner or later and when he did, JD planned to be there with a very large gun and a smile on his face.
As it was, JD was focusing on the merc who’d gone after Jared. He’d talked it over with Jared a little, trying to get some details but the kid wasn’t ready to talk yet so JD was going on what he wasn’t saying. Jared wasn't exactly a closed book and damn if JD hadn't as good as raised him. He’d been there the day Jared had been born, took care of him for the past 19 years. He’d gone to his soccer games, his little league and every other five minute obsession he’d had growing up. He could read the boy like a book and that was about all that was stopping him from screaming in frustration seeing the kid that raw, that hurt. Didn’t exactly help that he had no one to pin this on yet, but once he had… That bastard would regret the day his momma ever spat him out.
He pulled the bike to a stop in the alleyway beside a well-known merc bar, his fourth tonight. Dismounting, JD double tapped the security button on his key ring.
COUNTER THEFT MEASURES ACTIVE IN FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE.
The computer’s voice was soft and comforting, completely at odds with the vicious measures that she’d take to defend herself. Most of them were street legal. JD tugged the collar of his armoured coat up. It wouldn’t give him much extra protection but in places like these, every little counted. He pushed open the door and walked straight to the bar. The place was relatively empty. It was only about three in the morning. Every merc worth his guns would still be out and about, earning his pay check or blowing off a little steam. But give it about an hour, maybe two, and this place would be filled to the cracked and peeling ceiling.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, looking him up and down.
Looking over the man’s shoulder to the packed counter behind him, JD asked, “What’s good?”
“Nuttin, but it’s all cheap.”
JD smirked, “Then gimme whatever doesn’t taste like rat piss.”
Shaking his head, the barman dug out a bottle of clear liquid with Cyrillic writing on it and poured it into a glass for him, “Best we got in here.”
JD slid a credchip across the bar, holding his hand up as the barman went to hand back the change. The barman frowned.
“Looking to find out a little something,” JD dropped his voice just to make sure that no one would overhear them.
“We got booze from all the cheapest wholesalers in the city, got a few exotics but that’s about all we sell here,” the barman replied. “That clear?”
JD nodded, “Sensible way to be.” He paused, taking a second to think He watched the man serve another customer, his eyes keeping a watch on JD at the other end of the bar. Reminded him of a couple of friends who’d dropped outta enlisted life to live the dream of a bar back home. The corners of a very familiar tattoo peeking out from the barkeeps t-shirt sleeve confirmed his thoughts. “You look like a man who did his time in the Corps, am I right?”
“Five years in the Hundred and fifth,” the man confirmed, “You?”
JD nodded, pushing down his coat enough to bare the tattoo on his left bicep, “Yeah, spent more than my share with the thirty ninth.”
The bartender smiled widely, “Good unit. See now this puts a completely different spin on this, my friend. Could technically say we’re just swapping stories we heard in the bar.”
JD couldn’t help but laugh, sliding another generous chip across the bar along with his empty glass.
“So what you lookin’ for, friend?” the barman asked.
“You heard about the corp hit that went down ‘bout two weeks ago?” JD asked, swirling the liquid in his glass. “You heard anyone boastin’ about being involved?”
“Man, half the city was glued to their screens over that one. Good, tight job,” the barman poured himself a large drink. “Dunno how the hell they pulled it off but it took a hell of a lot of guts.”
“Sure did,” JD agreed, grudgingly. “Jobs like that’re golden. Pull something that sweet, won’t have to buy your own drinks for a couple of months.”
“So why you looking for them? You don’t look like a cop,” the bartender threw back the drink.
“You said it yourself, took guts and precision,” JD took a sip of the vodka, “They proved they can work as a team ‘gainst a hard target. Who wouldn’t wanna hire those guys?”
“Team that could pull that shit ain't amateurs and pros that good don't come cheap. It'd cost a fair bit,” the bartender mused.
JD took another drink, “I got a bit set aside, but I got a few guys who’ll go in on this with me if I need it. But I need to make sure it’s not a fluke, ya know? I seen some trained grunts who looked mighty fine all lined up on parade but get 'em away from the Gunny and they were as much use as the boys goin’ thru boot!”
The barman considered JD for a moment, “There’s a couple of lads, come in fairly regular. They’ve been on a high later, no specific details but timing’s about right. Good guys, ex-mil for most of them, but they got a few street guys with them to balance them out. Should be in about six if you’re still about, otherwise, I can pass on your details…”
“Don’t have anywhere better to be, and the booze isn’t that bad,” JD smiled, holding his glass out for a refill.
“You haven’t tasted the beer!”
JD laughed, “With a recommendation like that, I think I'd best keep it that way.”
He passed the next couple of hours just chatting, watching the scum of the city drown their failures in the cheap beer. JD did the same, or appeared to. However, he’d wager that he was a hell of a lot more clear headed than anyone else in the bar with the possible exception of the bartender. Fantastic little things, toxin binders, little nanites designed to clear out all the crud from your blood. Sure they were designed against poisons and gases but they worked just as well against whisky and vodka. A quick flick every now and then and they stripped out even the slight buzz of drunkenness.
A nod from the bartender told him that his targets were here. JD turned slightly in the chair, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Four guys, all armour-clad and fresh from the streets. They moved like panthers, sleek and dangerous, alert to their surroundings and ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice. They headed straight for the back of the bar and pulled up a table, moving the chairs so that none of them had their back to the room.
JD knocked back his drink back, and flicked his toxin binders on again. In moments, he could feel his head clear, no trace of the vodka anywhere. He needed all his wits if he’s going to pull this con and get information. Taking a deep breath, JD turned on his seat ready to go over to the targets. He knew that his gun sat ready at the small of his back and he had several knives secreted around himself.
The door slammed open again. JD flinched and ducked his head, caution guiding his actions.
“Yo, Rick!” a voice called across the bar.
One of the men at the table looked up, smiling widely, “Steve!”
JD watched the men slap each other on the shoulder before sharing an enthusiastic hug. The other men shared handshakes with ‘Steve’. It wasn’t until he turned to shout at the bartender that JD saw his face. JD turned, picking up his half full glass of vodka. The addition of this new member of the party was an unexpected road bump. Hard to play undercover when someone knew what you looked like.
A raised finger called the bartender over.
“You know who he is?” JD asked.
The bartender nodded, “Yeah, comes in occasionally. Think he’s a brother, cousin, something.”
“Shit!” JD cursed, his hand coming up to rub his eyes.
“You okay?” the bartender asked.
JD forced a smile, “Yeah, but that last vodka really threw me, I guess. Shit, I can’t go over there like this. Look, could you do me a favour and drop my number over with their drinks, tell ‘em I might have a job for them?”
“Sure.”
JD took out a scrap of paper and scribbled down the number of his favourite pizza joint. He reckoned they wouldn’t worry about it tonight and well, even if they did, all they’d get was Mario trying to sell them his world famous sausage and mushroom special.
Laughing, the bartender shook his head, picked up the paper and went to serve the next customer. JD dropped a cred chip on the bar and left quietly, his mind churning. These are the guys, supposedly, that pulled off the assassinations and honestly, JD was inclined to believe it. Especially given that their ‘friend’ was none other than Steve Carlson, the personal security advisor to Christian Kane who had just been moved up the chain of command to the Acting CEO of the business empire. Looked like he’d found his rat. Now all he had to do was prove it.
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | Epilogue | Master Art Post | Soundtrack
