To Get Out Alive - Part Eight (a Guns For Hire fanfic)

[churbooseanon]

Summary: The mission is done, but life is only just starting.

This chapter, as with chapter two, includes the presence of a mixed drink. This is based on the tumblr user @benevolentbartender​‘s Guns For Hire cocktail creation made especially for Washington based on Synne’s design. The cocktail is called Recovery One. It serves not only as a nod to her nod at this point, but here it acts as a naming point for Washington. I hope everyone enjoyed the story.

Join me next week where we’ll be posting all of York’s story, one chapter a day, until it’s done.

 

To Get Out Alive [Part Eight] - (A Guns for Hire Fanfic)

    The pulse of Gulch, perhaps of Adaptive itself, was a deep, throbbing, sometimes surging baseline of Errera. Everyone seemed to move with the sound of it in their very footsteps, striding along to a beat that was part of their very bones. Their breath rose and fell like the cadence of music that danced in the air. People flowed from one motion to another like the colored lights that lined everything and slid through the plas-glass walls and floors, one color melting into the next into the next into the next in a hypnotizing cycle that lured one into a sense of calm that called to a person, held them up and made them feel weightless. Errera was the pulse of Adaptive, of Gulch, and once, of David Butler.

    Now he footsteps were the sharp retort of a fired gun. The breath that he took was the inhale, hold, release of a marksman trying to steady a barrel. When he moved it was with the crisp, efficient steps of a soldier, crowds parting for him as he strode forward, no one wanting to be in his way. The light that guided him wasn’t under the floor or above his head, but the blindingly brilliant and short lived flash of the muzzle followed by the crimson and yellow spread of an explosion. And no longer was David weightless. A familiar and terrible weight had settled on his shoulders the second he had pulled that pistol from his glove compartment hours before. Had wrapped him up in duty and consequence when he had put on the vest. Had dragged him back down to the wariness he had thought to abandon when he carried the injured form of a former lover to his truck. Finally it had settled like a lead into his boots, keeping himself grounded in a needless death. So many needless deaths.

    David was barely halfway across the main expanse of Errera, moving for the employee area when one of the black and glowing red forms of a security staffer intercepted him. The build of him told David it was Keith, a man he had always liked. They went drinking at the Eagle and Asp some nights, and David had always found the man quick with a joke. Of course with him still wearing his helmet and with a clear wound on his arm, he wasn’t certain Keith recognized him, and his non-nonsense way of moving didn’t really speak to the normal club goer. David wondered, for a brief moment, if all mercenaries got this treatment when they came through the club on business.

    “Hold up there,” Keith started to say. “So you know, we got…”

    “You eyes on me,” David finished for him, already knowing where his friend was going with it. “I know, Keith. Can you call up to the boss and tell her I’ll be up to see her soon?”

    Maybe there was something in his tone, or in his posture, or just something that only security guys knew how to pick up on. Because suddenly there was a settling of Keith’s posture, almost like a soldier disarming. For a moment David had to wonder what would happen if he went toe to toe with Keith. Maybe… maybe he’d ask the big man to train with him sometime. Figured most of the security guys put in gym time. David needed to get back into that. Be ready for anything.

    “I was hoping you’d be one of the ones that stuck around for a long time,” Keith said, his voice a bit sad. “Not just because I had a bet on it.”

    That, at least, made David chuckle. “How much and how long?”

    “Hundred creds that you made it past another six months.”

    “Security guys always bet on employee turnover?” David asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He felt momentarily vulnerable knowing he had no weapons on him, a strange concept considering how easily he’d lived his life without them since going civilian. But there was no need here, and he had to be comfortable with that.

    “Only ‘tenders. We’ve got shit luck,” Keith chuckled. “But you can always come back.”

    “I know,” David agreed. “I’ll call you in the morning to talk. Got some ideas. And I think I’ll owe you that money you’re out.”

    Keith just nodded in response before turning and moving away. David smiled, shaking his head, before continuing his beeline for the employee access that would get him up to Room Five the more efficient way. No need to impress employees with sweeping staircases or lavish lifts. Once David was at the nearest employee door he pulled out his ID and with it in hand headed into the back.

    The halls were quiet now, quieter than David had really noticed before. The walls, it seemed, blocked out the noise of the club better than he’d ever known. Maybe he’d been so used to Errera, or maybe because of his helmet being tuned to one of the DJs, he had assumed you could hear it all back here. But no, there was a peace in these halls that he could almost respect. A moment of strength and stability against the chaos of the outside world. David let himself focus on that rather than the anger bubbling up in his gut as he found the first set of stairs to the upper levels and quickly scaled them. Soon, far too soon, he stood outside of Room Five.

    Deep breath. Fuck caution with a rusty spoon.

    David pushed the call button on the door and after a second it slid open, welcoming him into the lavish room that he had been proud to be asked up to hours before. Now the wasted display of wealth almost sickened him. Why here? Why now? Why did this man need medical records? Why did it all happen and why did it matter.

    The man sat with his back to the door, toward the window that looked out over his club. David could hear the glass in his hand ring with the sound of ice cubes, and he rolled his eyes at that. Apparently the man had opted toward ice for his later drinks. Whatever. It didn’t bother David at all.

    “You’re late,” the man announced and again David rolled his eyes. If he did it any more he might get dizzy.

    “And you’re in a position where, if I’d managed to bring a weapon in, you’d be dead by now.”

    The man flinched and it took all the self control David had to not laugh as the man jumped to his feet, whirling to look at David. Wow, he made himself an even bigger target like that. Just how dumb was this asshole?

    “You aren’t my mercenary,” the man snapped as he looked David up and down. “Get out.”

    “I’m not,” David agreed, reaching up to remove his helmet. It was actually fun to watch the man’s expression morph from outrage to confusion, to flat out bafflement as David rested his helmet against his hip and smirked. “In fact, I’m your bartender.”

    “What… what are you doing here?” the man demanded, blustering right back up to outrage.

    With that David pulled the datadrive from his pocket and threw it at the man. He actually let himself chuckle as the man dropped his glass and fumbled to catch the thing when it hit his chest. But the man managed it, cradling the item in his hands like it was precious and fragile. Maybe it was. David neither knew nor cared.

    “The man you sent out there, unprepared for the people who would foil your plans? He’s dead. He was my friend, you stupid piece of shit. Called me for help, and insisted that I finish your job tonight. It got him killed,” David snarled, moving forward. It was more than merely satisfying to see the larger man back up slowly, clearly uncomfortable, perhaps a touch afraid.

    “If he’s dead, then I don’t…”

    “Don’t talk,” David snapped, putting that edge of command into his voice that he’d learned from his CO. It seemed to work too, the man going rigid, his eyes a little wide behind his glasses. “I don’t want to hear another word from you. In fact, I never want to see you again. If I find you here, in my club, I’ll follow you out and throttle the life out of you. In fact, I’d love to do that right now, but there is a matter of payment, and Karim was pretty insistent on that part.”

    “I don’t owe you…” the man started to say, and David just cut him off again.

    “Or I can throttle you now and take the credstick from your body,” David offered. “I don’t doubt you have it on you, and Errera covers things like this up all the time. It would be bad for the reputation if anyone found out. I don’t even have to cover my own tracks.”

    That seemed to put the fear of god, or at least David, into the man, as he reached quickly into the pocket of his expensive suit and drew out a credstick. He tossed it to David, and David just popped it into the port on his helmet, lifting the thing just enough that he could look at the screen inside and confirm the surprisingly substantial paycheck. Combined with what Karim had left on the other one this was an almost twenty grand payout. For medical records. What was going on here?

    No.

    He didn’t want to know.

    “Get out,” he ordered, already moving away from the man and toward the bar. “Leave your keycard. Errera will appreciate you renting the room for the full night.”

    The man didn’t question, and David didn’t respond as he heard a plastic card fall to a table, and the door to the room slide open and closed. He just moved to the window that overlooked the club and watched. Down there people didn’t know what was happening up here. They had no clue the sort of battle that had gone on. Couldn’t know what David had lost. And why should they? With a sigh David turned to the table by the chair the man had been in. He considered the fallen glass of alcohol, for a moment he almost cleaned it up. But no, he wasn’t going to do that. Instead he leaned down to scoop up the card and crossed to the bar. His helmet was left on the counter as he used the thing to reopen the alcohol display. For a while David considered the options in front of him. There was so much here that he’d never touched, never thought to see. He could make any drink, every last one to the highest quality.

    In the end he selected the apple brandy and crouched behind the bar to gather up the things he had pulled out for Karim. More than anything he needed a drink. Slowly David went through the steps of mixing up the full potency of the recovery in all it’s glory. It was as good as anything to send Karim off with. Maybe better. After this he’d have to go to the doctors again to see to Karim, to pay them, to get his things. And then to Karim’s family, make sure they had what they needed, see that they got the news. But first…

    David lifted the glass in a toast to the room, sipping slowly at the drink. ith each taste came a memory. Days spent with Karim. Dinners they had shared. How he had found the man in the alley. The plea to finish the job. A single pained utterance of help. Before he knew it the glass was all but drained, a single splash of liquid left. Sighing he set it aside and lifted his helmet. Better to get some things done now.

    Bones, he sent to the frequency he fished out of his pocket, job is done. I’ll be back soon to see to Karim and your payment.

    Almost immediately his comm pinged back with a call request. David sighed but confirmed the connection, and was granted a glimpse of the woman in the kitchen he remembered. She probably had a datapad on her if she was doing a video call, whereas his returned video would no doubt just be an audio bar, spiking and falling in the dance of his voice.

    “Thought I told you that I’m not charging you for failing to save your friend. You okay, kid?”

    There was concern on her face, and David didn’t care for it at all. He kept that to himself, though, let it come out in a grimace she couldn’t see. “I’m fine. Finished the job. I’ll be along soon to deal with Karim, like I said.”

    “Whatever. Do what you want,” she answered, her lips pursed in a way that bespoke her displeasure. “Seriously, though, if you don’t want me to call you kid, I need a name to call you by.”

    David chuckled a bit at that. Like he wanted to give one to a person he wouldn’t see after this.

    “Are you okay?”

    The question again. David shook his head, he wasn’t okay. Not in the slightest. But there was no way she was going to be able to see that, so he had to vocalize, didn’t he?

    “I guess time will tell.”

    “It always does, kid.”

    David sighed, holding the glass with the remains of his drink between his fingers. Slowly he swirled the last of the liquid around and around, watching the alcohol flow. Karim had loved this drink. David used to tease it was Karim’s beard for the clubs and bars. His way at pretending that he was part of the rest of the crowd. Karim just used to smile knowingly.

    “Recovery,” David said as he watched the drink. “You can call me Recovery.”

    His gaze returned to the display of her face and watched as a knowing resignation settled on her face. Well, seemed she understood the significance of that answer. Perhaps even feared he’d give something along those lines. He had to wonder how a street doctor that specialized in mercenaries could ever feel bad about the potential for new customers. But, in the end, she was still a doctor, right? Seeing people hurt probably didn’t make her happy. Still, she nodded at last.

    “Well, in that case, I think I have a way you can pay me back, if you’re up to it. See, I’ve got this friend in a spot of trouble, and I think he could use just a little bit of saving. Think you can go again tonight?”

    Again David looked at the drink, silent for a long moment. Then, with a small smirk, he nodded to himself.

    “I think I can handle one more go. You sure Karim can wait?”

    “I’m sure,” she agreed.

    “Well then…”

    David took off his helmet just long enough to take the last swig of the drink, closed his eyes and let it burn on the way down before he settled the helmet back in place. He’d have to go see the boss quickly, but maybe that could wait until morning.

    Yeah. Morning. A long way away. Maybe not long enough.

    He looked at Bone’s face one last time before he took a deep breath. Caution, he reminded himself, was the better part of valor.

    “Recovery inbound.”