fandomtownies | Imperial Junke Yard, Thursday

Entry tags:

Imperial Junke Yard, Thursday

It was dead quiet at the junkyard today.

Marcus was sitting in the shed, staring at nothing. He'd been doing it for awhile now. It was a skill he'd perfected in the long months he'd spent on death row.

He could do it forever. He wouldn't, this was just a day when he didn't feel much like being stuck on this island, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

So he sat in the shed, falling back into old habits and trying to keep his mind from visiting memories he didn't want to touch.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kyle reasoned that Marcus probably heard him before he would see him. "Marcus!" he called as he walked through the yard to the shed. There was a sports bag slung over each shoulder, the straps crossed across his chest.

Marcus was up on his feet, moving fast, because the kid never made that much noise, and he stopped in the door of the shed. "Yeah?"

He pulled one of the straps over his head, struggling with the weight, and held it out to Marcus. "I'm leaving. These are yours now. It's not what's on your list, but it's what I've got."

He took the bag automatically, hefting it easily, eyes on Kyle. "Leaving in a hurry." It wasn't quite a question. "What's up?"

While he pulled the other, equally heavy bag over his head, Kyle explained. "Getting called home. It's pretty short notice." He set the bag down checked his watch. "I've got about three hours." After taking a moment to fish the letter out of his pocket, he handed it to Marcus to read. "Sounds permanent, right?" He was asking for a second opinion.

Marcus read it quickly, eyes flicking over the page. "Yeah." He looked up, holding it out for Kyle to take back. "Yeah it does." The reality of what Kyle was going back to surfaced briefly, brought something like concern with it. "Doesn't sound good. You should take these," he nodded at the bags, "with you."

"I can't," he explained, taking the letter and putting it away. He sounded pretty irritated by that fact. "There are rules to going back. I bend them, but that's one I can't break." Kyle didn't want to ruin it for anyone else who might have to use the portal system some day. "You'll need them here. I said I'd get you what you needed to defend yourself."

It was a fucking stupid rule; he didn't say it, but his fist clenched around the bag's handle. "Be careful. Don't wait to pull the trigger. Stay alive." Unexpected, confusing, the impulse to offer help spiralled up from memories he'd thought buried with his brother. It was momentary, it was impossible, it was shoved back down with a scowl. "Come back if you can."

"The staying alive thing has worked out pretty well for me so far. I'll keep working on it." He looked at both bags again briefly to make sure in his head that he'd brought everything. "And if I don't come back, maybe you'll see me again some day anyway. For your sake I hope you don't, but..." He shrugged. "If you do, don't go easy on him."

"I won't. I want him to survive." In some future that might not happen, in a world gone all to hell. "Anything you need me to do here?"

Kyle was silent for a few moments while he thought about his answer. Marcus wouldn't have offered if he hadn't been serious. The offer wasn't something to take lightly. "There's a guy called George Cooper. I trust him. He's going to need help some day." Because he was George and trouble was only ever an arm's length away.

Marcus thought about it, silent, weighing it up, looking up at the sky, out over the junkyard, down at the bags. He owed Kyle. His gaze flicked back to him. "He needs help, he's got it," he said seriously, then nodded towards the gate. "You'd better go."

Kyle slowly nodded. "Make sure you clean everything before you use it." He wasn't good at goodbyes, so that was all he said before walking away to the gate. He checked his watch. Not enough time.

Marcus watched him go. There was nothing more to say, nothing he could do. He let himself hope Kyle would be okay, would survive, just for a moment, then shut it all down. Kid was gone and that was that.

He glanced down at the bags. Not quite gone. He slung one over his shoulder, picked up the other, then headed for the shed, locking the door behind him.

It didn't take long for Angua to distinguish 'shed' from 'other heaps of junk that could also be considered habitable with imagination;' it was definitely a benefit to having a nose that could smell as hers could. So that was why she, glancing around with mild not-really interest at everything as she did so, knocked on the door of the shed and waited. She knew he was in there; she could smell him.

He considered ignoring it, but it wasn't like he was doing anything else. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see who was waiting on the other side of the door. "Sergeant."

[And now I have to sleep again! Darn sleep. Also, Angua's visit is before Kyle's, please?]

"Marcus," Angua greeted him back with a nod, and then held up a little pouch that jangled with some money. "Nice work on the door."

He leaned in the doorway and nodded at the pouch. "Surprised you didn't have Elsie deliver it."

"A dog?" said Angua, shooting him a look. "Delivering a payment?"

Pause.

"She'd just go spend it all on bisuits and tail."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. Reluctant, maybe, but there it was. An actual smile. "Dogs today," he said and held out his hand.

The pouch went plunk.

"And now she'll have full reign of the town, with your help."

Marcus shoved the pouch in his pocket. There was no point counting it. "Don't let that get around."

"Who would I tell?" asked Angua. "The cops?"

Her eyes, however, were drifting around the place. "What exactly is it that you do in a junkyard, anyway?"

"Whatever needs to be done." Helpful and forthcoming he was not, but he wasn't hostile, didn't even sound unfriendly. "Why, looking for a new job?"

"You know," said Angua, "I can't even say that I'm looking for a more outdoorsy job, either, because most of what I do has been street beats, although what I'm looking for, I don't even know."

He looked at her curiously, her admission not what he'd expected in response. "That what brought you here?" he fnally asked. "The island, not the junkyard."

Angua shifted a look toward Marcus, the sort that said that this had better not turn into one of those Heartwarming Opening Moments. She didn't do those. And she'd been under the impression that he didn't, either, which was why she didn't mind talking to him.

"I've never been able to stay in one place for too long," she said. "And I ran out of places on the Disc."

"Plus," she added, "I actually did a cop convention here, a bit over a year ago, and it seemed a nice place. Zombies in the bar. Feels just like home."

Yeah, Heartwarming Opening Moments were not Marcus' thing. Information, however, was. He met her look with a calm one of his own. "Never had any problems leaving again?"

And if there was ever another cop convention, he'd find a way off this island, even if it killed him.

[Bah. Work beckons, but I'll be back!]

Angua shook her head easily. "Not really, no."

Which was a big fat lie, of course. It was always difficult, except for the very first one. Leaving Uberwald was the simplest choice she'd ever made, although even that was tied in with Gavin.

But these things worked in turns, and it was now his. "What about you? You come here to explore all the exciting potential in scrap yard management?"

"Something like that." It was noncommital, but he added, "Was surprised to find myself here," and if massive understatement had a scent, Marcus would be reeking of it, "but I'm getting used to it."

It was somewhat impressive how many things did have a scent.

"It's not bad," said Angua, shrugging.

"Been in worse places." It was agreement of a sort. "Been in better. But I've never been anywhere stranger."

"I have," said Angua with a smirk. "I'd love to see what you'd think of where I'm from. Bet you wouldn't wonder why I headed here instead."

"The Disc, right?" He may not talk much, but he paid attention. "What's so strange about it?"

"Well, for one," offered Angua, "it's a Disc. As in flat. Held up by four elephants on the back of a giant turtle traveling through time and space. Apparently, you all find that 'strange.'"

Marcus took that in. Figured there were two possibilities: she was crazy or it was true. Decided it didn't really matter which, but he was leaning towards believing her. "That's stranger than here."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Imperial Junke Yard, Thursday

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject