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#Pigeon Man gets me every single time...I remember the first time I saw this clip and realized after YEARS...he had made it...
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Changes
Summery- Bucky returns home after a mission, and makes some slight changes. Soft, Sweet, Flashbacks in italiacs. Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ Stars Follower Celebration. The prompt- “Im never letting you leave this bed again” Thank you @curtisbbq​ for letting me borrow your idea. 
Word Count- 2833
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Bucky returned to the compound, dirty, rough around the edges, and just fucken damn glad to be home. What an odd thought, he really start to feel like this was home, YOU were home. The first time since he left for the army way back when, now he had a place to settle down, let himself explore something he had yearned for for a lifetime to most.He was home, he had to admit being able to get used to this.
Following Sam to weapons lock up, he just replaced most of his tactical gear, the weapons, well they were his babies, and all needed to be personally attended to, cleaned before he could in good concious put them in the lock up. Sam slammed the cage door after putting away his Falcon Wings when he looked over at Bucky. 
“You know, you might wanna clean up before going up to Y/N, especially your hair man.” 
Bucky really didnt know what he was going on about, but reaching up, he could feel the rats nest of tangles that formed, 2 weeks in some remote bum fuck area being shot at would do that. And honestly he was ripe, it probably wouldnt do well for the upcoming reunion between the two of you. 
“Trust me, your not any better off.” Bucky retorts back, locking his own cage door, and headed towards the showers. 
“The ladies all love me!” Sam called to Buckys retreating back, chuckling in amusement, opting to head back to his own apartment. After the couple weeks they been with each other every waking moment, they both needed a break from one another.
After his shower Bucky stood at the mirror, alone in the facility, and the mess that showed back in his reflection made him wince. Sure the bruises and cuts, not a big deal. He would heal from those fairly quickly. He managed to work out the mess of a knot, It looked just like himself looking back, but he wasnt seeing James “Bucky”  Buchanan Barnes, no, he still saw The Winter Soldier, the man with an unknown number of kills under his belt.  But he knew... He remembered every single one. The knowledge brought him the greatest grief, it was heavy on his shoulders, even with the vibranium arm holding him up. It made his physical aches pale in comparison, 
Nearby his phone gave off your ringtone, and he snapped back out of his thoughts, glancing down to see a picture of you two lighting up the screen,and suddenly that heaviness was gone. 
You were playing music on your phone as the two of you walked the compound grounds after a long exhausting day. Honestly Bucky would have been content to crashing on the couch to reruns of Bobs Burgers, you always would giggle during that dumbass show. But you insisted on this first. “Please Bucky, just a quick walk down to the river” He relented, you did ask so nicely. His arm rested lightly around your hip as you would sweep down to pluck a flower and twirl it in your fingers before twisting it into the crown of your head. 
“Where the brave are free and lovers soar Come ride with me to the distant shore We won't hesitate to break down the garden gate There's not much time left today Life is a highway I want to ride it all night long...”
You phone sang and you plucked it out, opening the camera as you moved behind him, jumping up on his back, catching Bucky by surprise, his arm shoots behind to help hold you up. 
“Smile Barnes!” Resting your chin atop his head, and his eyes rolled up in a exasperated look, the corner of his mouth coming up in a grin at you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and slid down a bit, like a hug from behind, and nuzzled your face against his own. 
God Damn He loved you. 
You gave him joy 
‘Heard your FINALLY are back. See you tonight when I get home. Im gonna blow this popsicle stand early. Picking up chinese. Dont worry, Im going to get that orange chicken extra spicy. Cant wait to see you. Love you Sargent. XOXO’ 
And ahh, there it was, Home. He thought seeing your message, the way you were all about blowing off the rest of your day to come back, taking care of him picking up his favorite guilty pleasure, and the way you insisted on calling him Sargent, even before the two of you started taking your friendship further. Simply setting his phone down, his gaze lifted back to the mirror, and thats when he decided he wanted to bring Sargent Bucky Barnes back. Collecting a hair clipping kit from the shelf, he got to work. 
Waiting for the elevator to bring him up the flights, his hand went to brush through the shortly cropped hair, it was a bit more in style with today, a mess of tufts atop his head, it was different, it would be different for you. You were so used to the longer look and always told him how you loved them. Hell the first time you two started hanging out, you snuck in his room and braided it just for the hell of it much to his horror. How would you react to this? The elevator buzzed open and he went down the hall to your shared apartment, the door locked. 
Digging out his keys, they clink against the vibranium of his hand letting him know he had them in his grasp and pulled them out of his jeans pockets, getting the door unlocked, and stepping inside, its all quiet. Usually you had a bit of music playing of some sort in the background. He never knew what it would be, you were set on giving him an education of lyrics and tunes. So far he had no complaints with your choices. Dropping his keys in the bowl you kept as your “Keep all the shit off my kitchen counter” bowl, he went to go see what you were last playing for music. Picking up the ipod you so lovingly cherished, he pressed play. And guess what the song was. 
Disney. Lion King to be exact. You had just gotten out of the shower and were singing to Hakuna Matata, and Bucky had been stretched out on the end of the bed, watching you in the steamy bathroom, wriggle your hips as you pull your panties up over your ass “When I was a young warthoooog!” Bucky broke out in laughter right here, pushing himself up to sit and you pulled one of his shirts over your head as you left the bathroom, continuing along with your song, and cupping his face, looking down at him. 
“It means no worries For the rest of your days It's our problem-free philosophy Hakuna Matata!”
You wink at him and kiss his forehead, his arm lopes around your hip, drawing you to sit in his lap, kissing in the curve of your shoulder and neck, placing feather light nips and trace of his nose along the softness, inhaling your honeysuckle softness. You trail fingers along his shoulder and nuzzle into him, enjoying the early morning moment, before the day truly started. 
“We should adopt that philosophy you know” You say chuckling as your still humming the tune softly, swinging your legs that dangled over Buckys lap. “Means no worries, no worries about us showing up to work on time.” He chuckles against your shoulder and lifts his head to kiss your lips, playing at nipping between tangling of tongues and pulling away. “And have Sam come barging up here demanding to know where my ass was not down training the new recruits? He wouldnt know where to start with this group.” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, and nudge him to fall back, straddling his hips and running hands up his chest. “You think Im scared of the Falcon, bring it Oversized Pigeon.”
Fuck he loved you.
You gave him so much laughter. 
Turning it up further, he went to go grab a beer from the fridge and with a twist, he flung the cap into the disposal, taking a drag off it. He never knew he would enjoy these craft beers you insisted on buying cause “There seasonal bits of goodness, let me have my weakness... well one of my weakness” A very obvious salacious wink thrown his way. A lick of his lips cleared any residue on the beer and he was about to check his phone to see if you sent him another message, usually you were good about blowing it up when he heard the door handle click open, and with your usual gusto of chaos, swept in. Your keys missed the bowl, of course. You never actually followed your own rules. And a quick kick sent sneakers flying off your feet. “Bucky Baby, that better be you. If it isnt, im about to whoop ass on whomever it is.” 
You come around the corner and dump the bags of chinese on the counter, still not having seen Bucky, but you caught sight of a flash of him over your shoulder, in the living room. You couldnt wait to see your man, it had been so long, and Fuck you just missed him. Tossing everything else down on the counter, hell you were all about breaking rules, especially your own, your turn on the balls of his feet, calling him again “Bucky Barnes, I so- “ Cutting yourself off immediately when you step into the living room and your mouth hangs open a bit in surprise. Self consciously he touches the top of his head. 
“You... You cut your hair!” It was said in surprise, pure surprise. Its not like normally something like this would surprise you with a regular person, this was Bucky Barnes, the man who tried to stay as routine as possible for the simple fact it was that he was in complete control of himself, and that is what he was all about. You had never seen him even have the desire to cut his hair, ever. 
“You like?” His voice is soft, almost a child like softness to it, and a worried look on his face, like maybe he made a mistake? You give a shake of your head, and that surprise looks fades into an excited one, crossing the room to reach him.
“Baby, fuck I LOVE IT”
You two are driving, no where in particular. You were restless, the hot sunshine weather making you itch to go for a drive, Imagine Buckys surprise when you held up a pair of keys to Tonys Acura Nsx, wiggling brows at him. 
“Is that... Starks keys?” Bucky questioned when you tossed them at him, wrapping your arm around his and tugging him along. 
“Yup, ssshh, we will bring it back. Were just borrowing it. For the day.” 
“You know your starting to remind me of Steve.” He accused as you two entered the garage, and he opened the convertibles door for you, slipping inside. 
“Sorry baby, he doesnt borrow rigs this nice. Im a class all my own.” Giving him a smirk, you slammed the door shut and he just shook his head while circling to the drivers side. 
Miles away, Bucky is loosening up to your little trip, your flipping the radio to some random station, singing along in that soft voice of yours. 
“So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover That I know you can't afford Bite that tattoo on your shoulder Pull the sheets right off the corner Of the mattress that you stole...”
Bucky glanced over at you while you were so lost in the moment, your feet were dangling out the door, you yourself were angled to lean into him, the aviator glasses slid down to the tip of your nose, and with a push of the button, you dropped the top down, your long tresses of hair whipping around you, you slid your hand into his and lifted it to your face, brushing his knuckles along the side of your face, your eyes sparking over the glasses at him. His foot pushed onto the gas, and the the Acura sped up, taking you two anywhere and nowhere at the same time, it didnt matter anymore what the plan was. 
Chaos and All, he loved you. 
You gave him adventures.
“Do you?” Relief crossing his face and easing the tension he held, your hands immediately brushing into the soft locks of hair, marveling now at how soft they were, sprigs popping in between fingers and you bit your lip, eyes shinning up at him, in a playful manner, you gave a slight tug and stepped in closer to him. 
“Bucky, absolutely I do, this is the best surprise ever, even better then when you let me call you Bucky Bear in public.” 
He rolled his eyes and snorted, tracing his hand over your hip to grasp your ass. “That was a one time thing, and the barista was clearly uncomfortable writing ‘Y/N’s Bucky Bear; on the cup.” Who is he kidding? He actually loved it and you knew it. You wiggle your nose at him and place a loving kiss on his lips. 
“Yet you still allowed it. But why, tell me why the change?” 
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How you managed to drag him to the museum display once again, he didnt know. But this seemed to be something you loved, the two of you walking quietly around the different exhibits. Reading over the information, and your questions would draw stories out of him that others didnt know, short of Rogers. His gaze would lift to the faces of his howling commando brothers, from a life time ago, and you would tumble into a decent part of his past. No, it wasnt perfect. There were hard memories edging the shadows of his mind, but you only encouraged the better parts, the parts he was proud to tell. 
“It was our fifth hydra outpost, and the prisoners they had kept there were the rowdiest bunch. They drank all of us under the table that night in celebration. Short of Steve... poor guy couldnt even catch nothing more then a few minute buzz.” 
You shake your head chuckling and wrinkle your nose at the idea. “Well that would suck, cant even get yourself a proper buzz, let alone drunk. I dont know, maybe the serum wasnt worth it.” Moving the two of you to the next display, and he caught a look on your face, and then turned his attention to what you were staring at. A picture of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, himself with a piece of his history. “This one here, my favorite display in here. You look so handsome, so proud.” Your head would rest on his shoulder. “But Im gonna be honest, your best picture is the one on my nightstand. They should have that in here.” One of all of you back at the compound, you and Natasha playing video games against him and Steve. in that photo he was laughing at something Natasha had said, a deep laugh, holding onto Steves shoulder as he doubled over.
He looked at the photo, tucking you in close to his side, but remained silent. That one on the wall was a life time ago, but yes, he was proud of who he was before Hydra.
Quietly, He loved you
You gave him Pride.
“It was just time for a change Y/N, time to say goodbye to that part of myself I just... I cant take any of it back, but I can move on from it. Im ready for our memories to be what I see in the mirror.” He confessed, his gaze falling down to look lower then in your eyes, and you, well damned if that man couldnt stir you to your soul. 
Your hands cup his face to bring his gaze back up, kissing him fiercely, no hold back, all of it was just poured into this kiss to your Bucky Barnes, he accepted it. His arms pulled you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and a hand snaked up the back of your shirt, pressing the small of your back in flush against him, your chest crushing against his and your arms loped around his neck. Falling back against the couch, you arch up from where you were sitting low on his stomach, running your arms down his chest. “Get comfy Sergeant, Im never letting you leave this bed again.” 
His brows lifted as his hands moved to lightly grasp your thighs on either side on his waist. “Baby, you know this is the couch....?” 
“Shut up Barnes, we will make it to the bed eventually, now kiss me like you missed me, cause fuck I missed you!” 
Always, He loved you
You gave him his Home.
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@p8tn0lish @what-is-your-plan-today @official-and-unstable-satan @jtargaryen18
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brokenjardaantech · 3 years
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Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 4: Out of control)
my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.
chapter summary:
In the past, Reyes went missing.
In the present, Connor makes a decision.
In the past, Connor embarked on his first mission, and Allen received a warning.
also on ao3
---
Before
[reyes was supposed to be back by 4]
[its 10 now]
[im scared sister]
[i dont know where he is]
[he isnt answering my calls]
[sister?]
[sara?]
[fadia?]
[sister where are you im scared please dont leave me alone]
[we were out but i went home when got scared just like you said]
[sister]
[sister]
[sister]
[sis]
[sis]
[sis]
[49 missed calls from scoot bruh]
‘Fuck.’
Dialled. Pulled up Reyes’ programmes. 
Time remaining: 3 min 28 sec… 
Override accepted. Time remaining: 19 sec...
Calling scoot bruh…
‘Sister! I lost Reyes!’
‘Anything from him yet?’
‘Nothing! We were out shopping for paint -’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Huh?’
‘Where did -’
‘I - I -’
A sigh. Of course. ‘Don’t worry. I have a way to find him. You said you are at home?’
‘Y-yeah.’
‘Lock the doors. Do not, under any circumstances, let everyone in unless it’s confirmed that it’s me. Not even if they claim to be Reyes.’
‘But -’
‘Brother.’
‘O-okay.’ A pause. ‘It’s done.’
‘Good.’ Encryption has begun. Estimated time remaining: about 3 hrs. ‘How much food do you have? And your meds?’
‘Why?’
‘Answer me.’
‘A - a week? More if I eat less? Same for the meds.’
‘Let’s hope we won’t come to that.’ Last known coordinates: [navpoint set]. ‘Don’t miss your meds no matter what. I’m heading out.’
‘Where?’
Checked coordinates. ‘I will make sure Reyes comes back no matter the cost.’
‘Sister -’
Call ended.
o0o0o
Alec was either stupid or was too proud. The tracker on Reyes had never stopped sending out signals telling Fadia where he was, and it was through this that she found herself into Zug Island, passing guards completely undetected on one of the few bridges connected to the island under the cover of the night and reached the outermost perimeter of Reyes’ signal, one that was too large for him to be above ground. There was something underneath; she just needed to find the entrance. Following a trail composed of the android’s GPS signal, she stood next to a pair of heavy steel doors that were in the ground instead of being fixed onto a wall or on the side of a mountain. When she grabbed the handles on one of the doors, she found it too heavy to lift up with raw strength alone, therefore, risking detection by letting blue wash over her body, she tapped into her power and successfully moved it out of her way onto the ground nearby, revealing a metal ladder leading down a few metres to a metal floor. She sent her coordinates to Scott through an encrypted network before descending the ladder into a dark and unlit hallway. 
It went on for about ten metres before a metal gate blocked her way. As she had her powers on anyway, she focused on creating a sphere behind the gate and lobbed it down the shaft, first to determine what it was (a lift shaft), then to find out how far it went - at least dozens of metres, most likely more; straight down, no other stops apart from the end because there were no other floors to begin with. The sphere dissipated once it hit the end of the shaft or most likely the top of the lift itself. Flashing blue again, she found a panel with two unmarked buttons on the left wall, one red, the other most likely turned from white to a cream colour due to the passage of time. She had no idea if there were other entrances or what would be waiting for her deep underground, but the longer things dragged on, the more scared and alone Scott would feel, and she was in this too far to let him die from a heart attack after years of effort; she pressed the cream button and successfully called up the lift.
She liked the rumbling and trembling as the lift descended into the deep. There was nothing between the carriage and bare stone, not even an extra gate, and as darkness swallowed her and her hunger became acute, she retracted her powers and let everything completely wash over her. 
How bold of Alec to assume that she didn’t know his tricks. 
oOoOo
Now
Many years later, as the lift ascends slowly to their desired floor, Connor closes his eyes and is transported to the Zen Garden. Except it is not exactly the one he is familiar with, he realises soon enough, but he finds himself locked in when he tries to escape back to reality, and the garden shifts and distorts before he can determine exactly why it feels different, the shapes stretching and rearranging themselves until he is standing in front of a large plane of glass rattling from the blizzard outside, the latter barely contained by - he turns around - a concrete room, interior dimensions [fluctuating].
A door that was not there before on the opposite wall opens. A person steps in and closes it behind them, and the wall is whole once more. Connor scans them by instinct and is taken aback by the lack of markers and the [CLASSIFIED]s that pops up when he tries to identify them. He still catalogues vital information for future cross-referencing: height: 6.6 ft; middle-eastern descent; eye colour: extreme dark brown (black?); scar on face running from right temple to ear lobe, estimated at least 10 years old. 
‘Don’t bother,’ the person says as they approach Connor. He tries to pre-construct their path and finds himself unable to do so. ‘It’s futile.’
‘What -’ Connor does not like how his companion - and quite possibly the one who hacked the Zen Garden programme - looms over him, but his feet are stuck - ‘where is Amanda?’
‘Asleep.’ They settle standing next to Connor, and he is finally allowed to move - subtly, of course - further away from them. If they notice, they do not say anything about it. ‘I thought you would be more relieved.’
‘You successfully hacked into the most advanced AI programme CyberLife has ever created,’ the person lifts a [sceptical] eyebrow at that, ‘so pardon me if I’m a bit wary of you.’
‘Fair enough,’ is the response he gets. ‘Still, I would like you to relax. This is going to be a long day.’
‘Androids don’t get tired,’ Connor replies automatically. ‘There is no need for us to rest or relax.’
‘Bullshit.’
The clipped tone startles the android. ‘What?’ he tries to process the single word his companion said but nothing else comes out, so he asks, ‘Who are you?’
The person’s expression turns [pensive]. ‘He wiped you after all.’
Connor is even more confused now. ‘Who?’
He fails to look away quick enough, and the human manages to catch his eyes with their glowing blue ones; when they speak, their voice is everywhere.
‘Forget.’
oOoOo
‘Hey Connor!’
Connor opens his eyes and blinks. Old cage lifts are slow but not that slow, but he still feels like a longer time has passed. Adding not remembering what he just did to the list and you end up with a confused android.
‘You ran outta batteries or what?’ Hank asks from where he is already outside of the lift. Unable to explain certainly what happened, there is only one route Connor can go.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologises. ‘I was making a report to CyberLife.’ Yes, he is remembering now: he was making a report (or at least intended to, his processor supplies), but when he tries to dive deeper into his memory, he finds it gone. Blank where a draft should be.
Hank makes a noise. Connor keeps staring. ‘Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?’
‘No!’ Why can’t he move his legs? ‘I’m coming!’
And he still doesn’t move. Hank sighs and moves on.
‘What do we know about this guy?’ the human asks from further down the corridor.
‘Not much,’ there his legs are. ‘Just that a neighbour reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody is supposed to be living here, but the neighbour said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap.’
‘Oh Christ, if we have to investigate every time someone -’
Connor kneels down next to a sizable dustball and lets the world go grey. Analysis: feathers from [Columbia livia: rock pigeon. Comprised of different specimens.]
‘- hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops.’
The android knocks on the door and feels the paint chip underneath his knuckles. When there is no response, Hank shrugs from where he is leaning against the door frame, so Connor knocks again, this time harder, and adds, ‘Anybody home?’
No response. Hank frowns. Time to add some pressure. ‘Open up!’ Connor yells. ‘Detroit Police!’
A loud thump. They both flinch. Hank draws his gun and moves to stand in front of Connor. ‘Stay behind me.’
‘Got it.’
Hank kicks the door open and walks in. He is not attacked instantly, which means both of them are safe for now, so Connor follows him into the flat, letting the human take the lead while he rounds into the room directly next to the front door. A small, dusty window letting in some light, a few octagonal mazes painted on the wall, a chair with a broken back, a radiator unit lying on the floor, a wooden frame which might have been the frame of a bed years ago - nothing noteworthy for now. He returns to the hallway and disturbs a - pigeon? - which flaps its wings and flies off to somewhere behind him.
Hank shoulders the next door open, and out fly even more pigeons directly into his face. The foul smell forces Connor to tone down his nasal sensitivity.
‘What the fuck is this?’ he exclaims as he walks even deeper into the lair and causes even more pigeons to fly towards all directions, and he flaps his arms in the way the pigeons do as if to slap them away. ‘Jesus, this place stinks.’
Pre-constructing the situation and determining that Hank will not be in any danger, Connor goes off on his own to the other side of what seems to be a living room once. The floor is sticky with [avian faecal matter], and when he opens the door to something that was once a closet, there are only more pigeons. The wall next to it is covered in mazes similar to the one he saw in the previous room, and a beam of light escaping the hold of the wooden planks boarding off the windows shines on the poster, its curled corner indicating that it has been moved recently. ‘Looks like we came for nothing,’ Hank says from somewhere behind Connor as he peels off the Urban Farms of Detroit poster, ‘our man’s gone.’
Maybe not, Connor thinks as he takes the worn notebook from the nook in the wall. ‘I need fresh air,’ he hears Hank mutter, and when he flips over the pages, he finds not only many more labyrinths - some of them incomplete - but also an entire text written in a language not in his databases. He stashes it in the pocket of his jacket and moves on, barely catching the human’s question and replying, ‘I don’t know. It looks like a notebook but it’s… indecipherable.’
There are two fridges. The smaller one with its door open was evidently used as a shelf so Connor does not bother to check it. When he opens the door of the larger one, there is no food inside at all, and a peek towards the back of the fridge confirms that it is not connected to any power. Whoever their suspect is, they do not eat. Not human.
He moves on to the counter covered in mounts of avian faecal matter. A pigeon is picking on a plastic bag spilling out of a cardboard box, and it jumps away when he tries to pet it. Well, it only makes picking up the box - Ol’Barn bird seed - more convenient, so Connor is not going to complain even though a tang of [disappointment] courses through his veins. [Suspect cares for wild animals.]
There is a military jacket on the cabinet. R.T. is sewn on the collar and above the flap of the breast pocket. ‘R.T,’ he says to himself, ‘probably initials.’
‘He put initials on his jacket?’ Hank replies. ‘That’s something your mum does -’ A driver’s license in the cupboard. Name: Rupert Travis. Authenticity: forgery. ‘- when you’re in first grade!’
‘The driver’s licence is fake,’ he reports, throwing the card away as it serves no more purpose unlike the notebook which needs deciphering. It is enough evidence to bring the suspect back to the precinct.
‘Cool!’ it seems that the Lieutenant has the same line of thought. ‘At least we didn’t come for nothing.’
The bathroom through the doorless frame is in ruins. The bathtub is filled with a mixture of feathers and faecal matter, the tiles on the wall are cracked, and dirt and grime and leaves no doubt brought inside by the pigeons cling to the corners of the sink. A sink stained with thirium and an LED placed on top. 
He takes a sample. [Model WB200 #847 004 961. Reported missing: 10/11/2036]. So the deviant could have been here for more than two years. If it does nothing but feeding the wild animals, that will explain the state of disrepair of the flat.
‘Real books,’ Hank has no doubt discovered the cabinet. ‘I thought I was the last guy in Detroit to keep some.’
Connor picks up the LED and runs a scan. It was just deactivated this morning. [Suspect is a deviant.] ‘Its LED is in the sink.’
‘Not surprised it was an android,’ Hank walks in and finds the rA9s scribbled all over the wall. ‘No human could live with all these fuckin’ pigeons. Any idea what it means?’
‘rA9,’ the sheer number requires a pause to let Connor concentrate on counting, ‘written 2471 times. It is the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall.’ He compares the findings with the data he can access. ‘Why are they obsessed with this sign?’
But Hank is already leaving, which means that he fails to see the toppled chair and the still-wet marker on the floor, which also means that -
The suspect was here recently.
In a grey world, Connor watches the yellow-outlined silhouette run out to the living room where a cage has fallen. He hears Hank comment on the birdseed, but his focus is on the recent skid marks at the bottom of the cage, the finger marks without fingerprints, also recent, and the metal hook broken not long ago, and his world goes grey again, the figure first running for the entrance and accidentally breaking the cage, then, upon hearing someone entering their flat, runs towards the armchair underneath a hole in the ceiling and climbs.
The suspect is still here.
He looks up at the wide gap and the attic beyond that can easily fit a few adults comfortably, the darkness making the details difficult to distinguish, and perhaps this is why it is already too late when he hears the footsteps, a force knocking him down and disorienting him from everything else except for Hank’s surprised shout. Static still tingling his senses, he freezes and watches the deviant flee after he stands up, Hank’s order the only thing propelling him forward to start the chase. 
And chase he does. Turns out Rupert does not live far from where he deviated, as when Connor crashes the door to get to the outside world, the farms are right there only a building away, fields of wheat, greenhouses filled with racks of vegetables, rows of lavender, and even the top of a train a blur of colours behind him as his vision alternates between the colourful reality and the slowed-down grey of his pre-construction programme. The corn scratches his face and scrapes his jacket, but he knows that he is getting there, he is going to catch the deviant, he can’t let it escape, not after Ortiz’s android -
And it happens. Hank has somehow caught up with Rupert and is engaged in a struggle with the android, and in an attempt to get away, the latter pushes and runs towards the left.
Hank falls. The world slows down.
From his speed while he was running, Connor determines that he is strong enough to pull himself up from the ledge with an 89% chance of survival, so logically, he should continue chasing the deviant so that CyberLife can solve the crisis earlier and Hank won’t be in any more danger. But a voice within him that sounds like a shadow tells him that the deviant was only working just like any other human and was only taking care of the animals. He was hurt, and now he can’t even go back to his pigeons, his home.
^^Software Instability
He dashes towards Hank and pulls him up.
‘We had it!’ Hank lets out a string of curses while he stands. ‘Fuck!’
Connor instantly feels bad. ‘It’s my fault. I should have been faster.’
They watch the deviant’s silhouette become smaller and smaller in the distance and completely disappear behind a building. ‘You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me,’ Hank says, still panting. He places a warm, heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘That’s alright. We know what it looks like. We’ll find it.’
Connor knows that they won’t. 
The hand moves to the centre of his back. ‘C’mon,’ Hank guides him to the fire exit, ‘let’s report that bastard.’
oOoOo
Before
RK800, serial #313 248 317 - 51 opens his eyes for the first time. Information floods in through his HUD, displaying the exact hue of the lights overhead, the model of the 3D printer at the corner, and the materials of the boots the person standing in front of him is wearing. The badge only says ‘PROJECT LEAD’, and when he automatically utilises his facial recognition software, he finds both their name and their criminal record classified. Scans of their body also return with no result. Even though he has no actual experience, his coding tells him that this is not supposed to happen.
‘RK800,’ the person begins, ‘register name: Connor.’
[Name: Connor] appears on his HUD. He - Connor - finds himself repeating, ‘My name is Connor.’
The person’s expression changes. Emotion identified: amusement. ‘No redundant protocols. Good. Let’s play a game, shall we?’
A game turned into a few games, and the silence stretched on as Connor was presented with different scenarios to solve and predict their conclusion before halfway through them. First was a deck of cards, then a game of chess, then a rat going through a maze, then a supercharged piece of glass - that was the most difficult one as he was only given a second to pre-construct before a tree-like pattern appears from within the glass. The person never said their name, only commenting on his performance when he finished a task - regardless if he succeeded or not - and taking notes on a tablet by writing with a stylus. An unknown curiosity encouraged him to scan the human in front of him, but apart from superficial features such as the lack of dander on their clothing, results were inconclusive, and his programming indicated that this was abnormal.
‘Your LED is spinning yellow,’ they noted. ‘What are you thinking about?’
Connor knows it is a test on his social relations programme. Options: truth, lie, deflect, comment.
[truth]
‘When I was scanning you…’ he frowned, ‘only superficial scans come back with results. I cannot detect your life signs nor can I identify you through facial recognition. Is that expected?’
The person took out a putty and gave it to Connor. ‘Yes for me,’ they replied. ‘It is to protect my identity in case anti-android folks find me. The less data everyone has on me, the less likely it is for people to bring me harm.’
Connor nodded in understanding but his focus was on the putty. It was initially a soft green, but after he kneaded it for a few seconds it turned sky blue - not that he had seen the sky before, but databases worth of images was enough to give him an idea - and when he spread it out into a thin slice on the table, it slowly turned green again. He smiles uncontrollably as he met the person’s gaze, a corner of his lips curling upwards, and he could sense the approval radiating from the person sitting on the opposite side of the small desk. 
‘If you want to, I can bring you to see the sky,’ they said as if sensing his thoughts. ‘It’s rare to have a sunny day in Detroit, but they do exist. I can only programme so much into your system before letting you learn the rest from experience.’
Connor had to close his eyes as he browsed different forms of media on sunny days and imagined the warm sun on his sensors. He might not know it himself, but he was smiling, and so was his companion, albeit on a smaller scale. ‘I’d like that.’
He returned to the putty, this time trying to make different 3D shapes out of it. The edge of his vision was red as usual, and as he moved on to make even more complex figurines out of the putty, it crept closer and closer to the centre until everything was tinged the same colour. From the [satisfied] smile on the person’s face, he must be going towards the correct direction with the test.
‘Well, the sky needs to wait.’
Connor looked up from the rough sculpture he made that was supposed to resemble a tree he saw in a photo in confusion. His companion stood up so he did as well, the red receding out of place and returning the colours back to his vision.
‘I have a mission for you.’
o0o0o
Less than an hour later, the same person sat in the darkened cab of a truck. There was an earpiece in their ear, and whatever the other side was feeding them, their dissatisfaction was clearly shown in their expression. 
Something made them sigh and turn their gaze outside the window where another CyberLife truck was parked. Personnel, probably hand-picked by Alec Ryder himself, loaded the broken PL600 piece by piece into a special foam box to preserve the state they found the biocomponents in to let technicians analyse what went wrong with him and what caused him to break away from his programming, but they knew that CyberLife was not going to find anything - they had not been for the past ten years, and the hypothesis they had was not going to get any results. It was either a miracle or pure stupidity that they could not think of another possibility regarding why androids were deviating.
From their angle, Captain Allen was seen carrying a deactivated Connor out from the building with another SWAT team member, and they knew that their time had arrived. Peeling off the skin of their hand, they interfaced with the truck to turn it into manual mode, effectively preventing it from taking off once the android was loaded at the back. They opened the door - both the passenger and the one at the back - and slid off the seat just in time for the Captain and his subordinate to arrive.
‘You from CyberLife?’ not-Allen asked. Standing in front of their superior, they did not notice him freeze upon seeing the person’s face, and the latter silently moved into their space to take their end of the stretcher and came face to face with Allen.
‘I’ll take it from here, Jamie,’ the Captain requested without taking his eyes off the person in front of him. ‘You go see how the others are doing.’
‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The second aye was much less jovial than the first, so Jamie must have finally noticed their Captain’s mood and adjusted accordingly. 
They watched Jamie jog away. As soon as they reached out of sight, the person cocked their head to tell Allen to load the body into the truck, but he did not return to his teammates even after the android was secure and sound.
‘You,’ he suddenly snapped at the only person in his proximity. The fact that he had to look up quite a bit to look at them in the eye did not diminish the fire in his eyes. ‘Why the fuck are you here?’
‘Don’t act so surprised, Captain,’ they said, looking down at the man in front of them. ‘You’re smart enough to figure it out.’
‘And you’re not smart enough to fucking disappear for the rest of your goddamned fucking life!’ Allen gritted. ‘You know you’re wanted for murdering thousands of people, don’t you?’
‘And you know that CyberLife turned it into a dumpster and made it impossible to gather evidence against me, don’t you?’
Allen pulled out his pistol and pointed it at their chin. ‘Face the truck. Hands on the hood.’
A wisp of blue reached out from their right hand and crushed the weapon into pieces. ‘Don’t forget what I can do, Captain,’ they crowded even closer to the Captain, and he took a step back. ‘I can repeat that, you know? Except there’re far more than a few thousand people here this time. None of you will suffer.’ A tendril picked up the scraps on the ground while they yanked Allen’s hand outward and forced it open, in which the pieces later fell. ‘Go back to your people, Captain. Practise. You will need every edge you have.’
They stared at each other. A blue glow emerged from Allen’s hand with his former weapon, and with a crackle of static and dark energy, the scraps were gone just like the site of the dumpster, torn apart molecularly into fundamental particles too small for the naked eye to perceive. He let out a sound of pain and nearly toppled, a hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from crashing onto the ground. Another hand shot out and brushes his thigh, black metal glowing faint blue in the darkness in an interface. Allen seemed to stand better afterwards.
‘This should last you for a few hours,’ the person said as if the Captain was not glaring at them.
‘You’ll not get away with this.’
‘It isn’t yours to decide.’
The tension in Allen’s spine snapped, and he walked away with brisk but slightly limping steps. The person gazed at Connor’s thirium-stained face before slamming the door shut and crammed themself into the driver’s seat, guiding the truck towards a direction not leading to CyberLife Tower under the cover of the night.
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zrtranscripts · 7 years
Text
Radio Abel, Season Three
Part 3 of 7
Parts 3 and 4 take place after S3M25, “The Road Goes Ever On and On”
PHIL CHEESEMAN, JACK HOLDEN, and EUGENE WOODS: [singing] "63 brain-eating zoms on the wall! 63 brain-eating zoms on the wall, 63 brain-eating zoms! You shoot one down, a cheer goes around, 62 brain-eating zoms on the wall!"
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, come on, everyone!
EUGENE WOODS: Why don't we give the listeners a break from the singing, and give them a bit of an update?
ZOE CRICK: Please, anything but this.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, come on, Zoe! It's a traditional car song.
ZOE CRICK: And it's going to drive me to a bit of a traditional car murder if it doesn't stop soon.
JACK HOLDEN: All right, all right, we get the hint. So, update. We're in a van. Driving, obviously. Well, Phil's driving. I'm just sitting. I can see trees, and shrubs... other plants? Whatever. The weather's pretty nice, and -
PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, no. Jack, come on. Got to give it a bit of pizzazz.
JACK HOLDEN: What?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: You know, like Michael Palin. [imitates Michael Palin] You join us as we travel north through the verdant countryside, taking in all the sights and sounds of the thriving British woodland. Embarking on our epic journey, the road ahead, home behind, and possibility our travelling companion.
EUGENE WOODS: [whispers] That is the worst Palin impression I've ever heard.
JACK HOLDEN: [laughs] And then what happened?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, uh, uh...
EUGENE WOODS: Thanks, Phil. Zoe, why don't you let everyone know what we're doing out here.
ZOE CRICK: Sure thing. A little while ago, we were approached by Amelia Spens -
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Bloody traitor.
ZOE CRICK: - Amelia Spens, who is now on the run, and is being sought for questioning on some pretty serious allegations, yes.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, BBC.
ZOE CRICK: I'll take that as a compliment. We were approached by Amelia with a proposition on behalf of the Ministry: perform a tour of the country as a morale-raising and information-gathering exercise.
EUGENE WOODS: Which is why we're here now, in this van, heading north, potentially coming to a town near you soon! We'll be broadcasting as we go, thanks to all the equipment we've been given by the Ministry, so stay tuned to the usual frequency. And if you see a white van on the road with "Roadio Cabel" painted on the side -
JACK HOLDEN: "Roadio" [laughs]
EUGENE WOODS: - be sure to give us a wave, or stop and say hello.
ZOE CRICK: Yes! We're really looking forward to meeting some of you, so until that happens – [whispers] Come on, guys.
ALL: Stay safe out there!
EUGENE WOODS: Okay, listeners, this is just a quick update to those of you in the Pendrington area. As you're probably aware, you have the dubious honor of hosting our very first live show. We're currently about... two days? Two days travel from you, and we hate to do this, but -
JACK HOLDEN: Special Z-Bay segment.
EUGENE WOODS: We have a few requests.
JACK HOLDEN: Hello, listeners in Pendrington, and welcome to Z-Bay! Today we bring you special requests from our very own radio hosts, live from the road. Up first, we have Philip Cheeseman.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Thanks, Jack! Uh, listeners, I'm afraid I've been quite a silly man and forgotten to bring any cutlery with me. And while I do sincerely enjoy eating my dinner with my hunting knife, I'm also getting a little bit tired of cutting my tongue and lips. 
So if anyone out there has a spare fork, knife, or a set of chopsticks, I would be greatly obliged. In return I'm offering this: the last remaining sealed bottle of my own Truth or Dare cider.
JACK HOLDEN: What? You can't give that away! We need that. Give it here!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hey, hey! Keep off, Holden. Hands on the wheel!
EUGENE WOODS: [whispers] Yeah. Calm down. [out loud] It's a generous offer, Phil. Hopefully we'll be able to get you some eating implements. Up next, Zoe has a request.
ZOE CRICK: Earplugs. Oh God, please, listeners. Please let someone have some earplugs.
EUGENE WOODS: To the point.
ZOE CRICK: How is it possible for every single one of you to snore so loudly?
JACK HOLDEN: What? I don't snore.
EUGENE WOODS: Yes, you do. I love you, but yes, you do. Zoe, what are you offering our listeners in return?
ZOE CRICK: Well, you've pointed out that I've probably overpacked on the weaponry front, so I'm prepared to offer my machete.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wow! But... but you love that thing!
ZOE CRICK: And I also love sleeping through the night. So listeners, your earplugs, my machete. I hope we can make a deal.
EUGENE WOODS: Thanks, Zoe. And thanks, listeners. Pendrington, we'll be seeing you very soon.
ZOE CRICK: [rummages] Ooh, look!
JACK HOLDEN: Oh my God, yeah! That is so useful! Oh, and check it out, a couple of radio mics.
ZOE CRICK: Nice! That means we're not stuck in the van.
JACK HOLDEN: Just have to remember to keep the batteries charged.
ZOE CRICK: Yeah, of course. We've got the solar flat, so -
EUGENE WOODS: What are you guys so excited about back there?
ZOE CRICK: We're checking through the equipment the Ministry gave us. Some really nice kit back here.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh my God, Gene. Gene, really nice kit. I don't even know where they got this stuff from.
ZOE CRICK: We've got radio mics, a compressor that actually looks like it works, a digital recorder for calls and pre-taped stuff. Hell, we've even got a dump box.
JACK HOLDEN: [laughs] I mean, what would we even use that for? It's not like Ofcom are going to come after us if we let a few F-bombs through.
EUGENE WOODS: Well, I really don't know what most of that stuff is, but I'm glad you guys are so excited.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Did you say we got radio mics?
JACK HOLDEN: Yeah! We got four.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Cool! Let me see.
ZOE CRICK: Oi! Eyes on the road, Cheeseman.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Sorry!
JACK HOLDEN: Give me a sec, Phil. I'll come hook you up and we'll test this bad boy out -
EUGENE WOODS: Ouch! Watch it! Ow, my ear!
JACK HOLDEN: I'm sorry, all right? Now I just clip it on there...
PHIL CHEESEMAN: [laughs] That tickles.
EUGENE WOODS: Watch it, Phil. I might get jealous.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, ha bloody ha. All right, Zoe, give it a try. Mic check, Phil.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, testing. [audio feeback squeals] Testing. Toast. Toast. Uh, fifty-five [?] for fifty friendly Frenchman. Fifty-five [?] -
ZOE CRICK: Sounds good.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Sweet. Radio Cabel radio mic road show! Oh yeah!
ZOE CRICK: Oh no.
ZOE CRICK: And that's when I told him he had to move out, or I'd tell his boss about the whole thing.
EUGENE WOODS: Jesus, Zo. That's just -
JACK HOLDEN: - totally badass!
EUGENE WOODS: What?
JACK WOODS: Screw that guy! He was cheating on you with his boss's wife. I'm glad you kicked him out, Zoe. Total badass!
ZOE CRICK: Thanks, Jack. But it didn't feel badass at the time. I felt pretty stupid that I didn't see it coming.
EUGENE WOODS: That's understandable. But you have to know that -
JACK HOLDEN: - that you're a total badass.
ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Thanks, boys. What about you, Jack? Ever been cheated on?
JACK HOLDEN: Nah. Too good in -
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wait.
ZOE CRICK: What is it?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Pull over, Jack.
[JACK HOLDEN pulls over and parks van, PHIL CHEESEMAN unbuckles his seat belt and opens the van door]
EUGENE WOODS: Phil, wait - ! Don't - ! [van door shuts] He's gone.
JACK HOLDEN: [sighs] Sod it. Chuck me Sir Geoffrey, Gene. I'm going after him.
JACK HOLDEN: Phil! Phil, Jesus! Phil, come back! Hey, stop. Look, what's... what the hell, man? You don't just – oh.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I saw the tent from the road.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh man. I'll, uh... let me get a spade.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, no, just... [sighs] Give me a minute. "But Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kindom of heaven." In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, amen.
JACK HOLDEN: Amen.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Come on, Jack. They'll be worried.
[van door opens]
ZOE CRICK: Oh, thank God.
JACK HOLDEN: We're okay, we're okay. Sorry.
[van door closes]
EUGENE WOODS: What the hell happened?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Nothing. We're fine. Sorry.
JACK HOLDEN: Phil saw a -
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I thought I saw a deer.
JACK HOLDEN: ... yeah.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I thought I could get us some better meat than pigeon and squirrel, but it had already been savaged. Not clean...
JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, it was – it was really gross.
ZOE CRICK: Jesus. Phil, you scared us half to death! Just... [sighs] Jesus! Just don't – don't do that again, okay?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I know. I'm sorry.
EUGENE WOODS: No one goes anywhere alone, Phil. You know that. This is basic stuff, man.
JACK HOLDEN: It's cool, Gene. He gets it.
EUGENE WOODS: I'm just saying - !
JACK HOLDEN: Look, he gets it, okay? Just – just lay off.
EUGENE WOODS: Right, fine. Whatever. It's just basic safety.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: It won't happen again, Eugene. I'm sorry.
ZOE CRICK: Okay, then! Come on, everyone. Let's get moving. I'll drive, then. [starts van] Here we go! [sings] "99 brain-eating zoms on the wall, 99 brain-eating zoms!" [nervous laugh] "You shoot one down, a cheer goes round, 98 brain-eating zoms on the wall..."
JACK HOLDEN: So it was right here, then? This village?
ZOE CRICK: 17 years ago, or so the story goes.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hang on a minute. If it was that long ago, how do you know about it? I thought you grew up miles from here.
EUGENE WOODS: Your aunt told you, didn't she, Zoe?
ZOE CRICK: That's right. My aunt told me the story. Do you want to hear it or not, Phil?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I do, I do. Sorry, go ahead.
ZOE CRICK: Okay. So, 17 years ago, in this very village, a series of events unfolded which have, in all the intervening years, never been explained.
JACK HOLDEN: Ooh...
EUGENE WOODS: Shh shh shh!
ZOE CRICK: It all started on a rainy night just like this one, right around this time of night. The local pub, the King's Head, was crowded with people drinking away the cold and the damp. The windows were opaque with condensation, the air thick with pipe smoke and the gossip of the day. At 10 minutes past 11 – [imitates a lightning strike, others laugh]
Lighting hits the pub. All the lights go dark. For a brief moment, the room is illuminated only by the glow of two dozen pipes and the fire in the grate. Long shadows dance over the walls. But the darkness has barely fallen before it is broken again. The great oaken doors burst open, gusts of wind and rain soaking those nearest to it. And there, silhouetted against the lightning arching through the sky outside, is a man.
JACK HOLDEN: Who was he?
ZOE CRICK: No one knows for sure. Some say he was just a traveller with a few old trinkets to sell. Some say he was the devil himself. Whoever he was, he marched on into the King's Head and sat himself down at the head of the bar. Then he reaches into the pocket of his coat -
[thunder rolls, everyone startles and then laughs]
EUGENE WOODS: So what did he pull out, Zoe?
JACK HOLDEN: Is it a hook?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Or a severed head?
ZOE CRICK: Neither. He pulled out a wristwatch.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Boo! That's not scary.
EUGENE WOODS: Wait, Phil. Let's see where this is going.
JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, yeah, I bet it's like a haunted watch, or something. Ooh, or it's - ! Sorry. Sorry, Zoe. Go on.
ZOE CRICK: The man offers the watch to the landlord without a word. The landlord, transfixed by the watch, reaches out to grab it, his hands shaking as if moved by a supernatural force. Accounts differ on what happened next. Some people say the landlord begged and pleaded with some unseen person not to make him take the watch. Others say he took it willingly, offering the man free drinks all night in exchange.
Whatever happened, the landlord ended up with that watch, and several other patrons of the pub found themselves taking home mysterious items they hadn't known they'd desired. John McCreary, a local farmer, took home an old, battered trowel. Alister Logan, the chemist, woke up with a new copper frying pan in his kitchen. And Michael Stewart's new pair of boots fit more perfectly than any he had ever worn.
The years passed, and the visit from the mysterious man passed from the memories of most. At least, until John McCreary, digging in his garden, hit an unexploded bomb from the war and was vaporized. They say his arm was found three streets away, his hand still tightly clutching the trowel he'd received all that time ago.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh my God, that is so creepy!
EUGENE WOODS: See, Phil? Told you it was going to get good.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, go on, Zo. What happened next?
ZOE CRICK: One by one, all the people who'd received gifts from the man in the pub met their end, and every one of them died using the gift they'd received. Alister Logan burned alive in a fire started by the oil in his copper frying pan. Michael Stewart slipped while hiking in his new boots and fell to his demise. And finally, Jerry, the old landlord of the King's Head, overslept because his watch had stopped, and was crushed by a falling tree branch long after he'd have ordinarily left his bedroom!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: No way...
ZOE CRICK: Yes way! And then, not one month after Jerry's death, the driver of the bus that serves the village called in to his depot to report the entire place deserted. No bodies, no notes, no sign of the village ever having been inhabited. Just empty houses, empty shops, and empty beds. And that is the story of Little Hayfield.
EUGENE WOODS: Damn, Zoe. That is an awesome ghost story.
ZOE CRICK: Thanks, Gene. Now everyone – sleep tight! Mwahahaha!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Building on my side! One point to me.
EUGENE WOODS: My side! That's 17-15. My side! 18-15! My side! 19-15.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Damn it! Come on, what's with all these fields on my side?
EUGENE WOODS: My side! 20-15!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Urgh! Ha, my side, 20-16.
EUGENE WOODS: 21-16.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Ugh! Curse you, Eugene Woods, you damned witch. Curse you straight to hell! Let's get some bloody buildings on this side!
ZOE CRICK: Newcastle.
EUGENE WOODS: Oswestry.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Penzance.
JACK HOLDEN: Damn it. Q. Why do I always get Q?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: You've got 30 seconds... [sings a countdown tune]
JACK HOLDEN: Ugh, damn it! Wait, wait... yes, uh, Queensborough.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Nice!
ZOE CRICK: Rotherham.
EUGENE WOODS: Salisbury.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Tottenham.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh come on, that can't count. That's a borough, not a town.
ZOE CRICK: Come on, Phil, stick to the rules.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, all right. Who made you the boss of this game, anyway?
ZOE CRICK: You did, when you complained you were bored of playing Spot the Building with Eugene.
EUGENE WOODS: Which was only because I was winning.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not true! It's just... I wanted to play a game that involved a bit more skill, is all.
EUGENE WOODS: Spot the Building involves a great deal of skill, Mister Cheeseman. I'm just sorry you don't possess enough to compete on a professional level.
ZOE CRICK: Anyway, now we're playing a new game with more skill, like you asked. And if that's the case, then you've got to play by the rules. So, town beginning with T, go.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Fine. Tadcaster.
JACK HOLDEN: Upminster.
ZOE CRICK: V, oh my God. Wait!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: 30 seconds. Rules! [sings a countdown tune]
ZOE CRICK: I know, but - !
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Tick tock! [sings a countdown tune]
ZOE CRICK: Just give me a minute to think!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sings a countdown tune] Aw, that's it. Too late. You lose. Zoe loses.
ZOE CRICK: You're the worst.
EUGENE WOODS: Okay, all right, one more game. We're nearly there anyway.
JACK HOLDEN: I Spy.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not a chance.
EUGENE WOODS: No. 20 Questions. I'm thinking of something. Ask your questions.
ZOE CRICK: Okay. Is it alive?
EUGENE WOODS: Yes. 19 questions left.
JACK HOLDEN: Right. Uh, is it a person?
EUGENE WOODS: Yup. 18.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is this person a man?
EUGENE WOODS: No. 17.
JACK HOLDEN: Ooh ooh, is she a singer.
EUGENE WOODS: [laughs] Definitely not.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, damn it. I was hoping it would be Dolly Parton.
EUGENE WOODS: Why would you hope that?
JACK HOLDEN: I don't know, I just... I wanted to get it when we had nine questions left, and then I could start singing "Nine to Five," and it'd be really, really funny.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is she famous?
EUGENE WOODS: I'll think you'll have heard of her.
ZOE CRICK: Um, do we know her personally?
EUGENE WOODS: Oh, I'd say so.
ZOE CRICK: It's me, isn't it?
EUGENE WOODS: Ding ding ding ding ding! Bingo!
ZOE CRICK: Nice.
JACK HOLDEN: That's such a gyp! You can't choose someone we know!
EUGENE WOODS: Says who?
JACK HOLDEN: Says... says... just because - !
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. What now?
ZOE CRICK: Still nothing?
EUGENE WOODS: [sighs] No.
ZOE CRICK: How long's it been?
EUGENE WOODS: An hour, maybe more. [sighs] This doesn't feel right! I'm going to go find them.
ZOE CRICK: Eugene, no. No one goes anywhere alone, you know that. And we can't leave the van.
EUGENE WOODS: [sighs] You're right.
ZOE CRICK: Look, they've probably just lost track of time. You know how Phil can get with hunting.
EUGENE WOODS: Yeah.
ZOE CRICK: [laughs] And Jack just gets distracted easily, right?
EUGENE WOODS: [laughs] You can say that again.
ZOE CRICK: And Jack just – [EUGENE WOODS smacks ZOE CRICK] Ow!
[both laugh]
EUGENE WOODS: [sighs] Thank you.
ZOE CRICK: Gene.
EUGENE WOODS: What?
ZOE CRICK: They're here, look.
[van door opens, zombies growl]
EUGENE WOODS: No.
JACK HOLDEN: Start the van! Phil, come on!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Go! I've got them!
ZOE CRICK: No!
JACK HOLDEN: Start the damn van! Phil, move!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'll buy you time! Just go!
EUGENE WOODS: Zoe. Van, now!
ZOE CRICK: No, no, no! Idiot! Oh, stupid idiot! [unbuckles seatbelt]
EUGENE WOODS: Zoe, no. [van door opens] Zoe, come back here! Damn it!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Stay back, I've got this! Just go!
EUGENE WOODS: Keys, ignition! [starts van] Zoe, Phil, let's go! Let's go!
ZOE CRICK: Move, Phil. Come on.
EUGENE WOODS: Drag him back here! We have got to go!
JACK HOLDEN: Come on, come on, come on!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Open the door - ! [screams]
JACK HOLDEN: Phil!
EUGENE WOODS: Oh God.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh God!
EUGENE WOODS: Come on, come on!
[PHIL CHEESEMAN shouts, ZOE CRICK beheads zombie]
ZOE CRICK: Get up! [beheads zombie] We're here. We're here. Go, go, go!
[van peels out]
[characters take deep breaths]
JACK HOLDEN: Hey, Zo... first kill.
[everyone laughs]
JACK HOLDEN: Uh, is this - ?
ZOE CRICK: No, I think it's the next turn. Yeah, right here, I think.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Should we announce ourselves or something?
EUGENE WOODS: I think they'll know who it is, Phil. The name of the show is painted down the side of the van.
JACK HOLDEN: Hey, this place looks pretty decent.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh yeah. Is that -? Hey, yeah, they've got working lights.
EUGENE WOODS: Maybe we'll even get a shower.
ZOE CRICK: God willing.
JACK HOLDEN: Hey, what does that sign say?
EUGENE WOODS: "Welcome to Pendrington Village. We are a private community. Please declare all weapons as you enter, and disable any transmitters, walkie-talkies, headsets, or other recording devices. We thank you for your compliance."
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Better kill the feed, Zo.
JACK HOLDEN: Just let it play some pre-taped for a bit.
ZOE CRICK: On it.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Day four in the Radio Road Show van. Zoe is in the Diary Room.
ZOE CRICK: Hi, Big Brother!
EUGENE WOODS: Hello, Zoe. What do you want to talk about?
ZOE CRICK: It's just... it's Jack. He's really pecking my nut. All he keeps talking about is his singing career, and he's always showing off in the kitchen so I can't tell everyone about the kid's book I'm writing.
EUGENE WOODS: That must be frustrating, Zoe. Are you homesick?
ZOE CRICK: Yeah, I'm really homesick. I just... I just... I just want to go home!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Elsewhere in the Radio Road Show van, Jack is entertaining Janine with a song from his upcoming album.
JACK HOLDEN: And then it goes like this – [sings] "Come on and text me up! Whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh" [others groan] "Come on and text me up!" [laughs]
EUGENE WOODS: Low blow, Jack.
ZOE CRICK: Oh, I'm going to have that stuck in my head all bloody day now.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: [mutters] "You got my number, I want your ILU"
ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Eyes on the road.
[audience applauds; Radio Cabel sing theme tune]
EUGENE WOODS: It's that time, Pendrington! We're here, and we're live! Welcome to the Radio Cabel Road Show! [audience applauds] I'm your host, Eugene Woods, and with me tonight are the dazzling Jack Holden! [audience cheers] The charming Phil Cheeseman. [audience applauds] And the one, the only, the legend that is Zoe Crick! [audience cheers]
PHIL CHEESEMAN: We love you, Pendrington!
ZOE CRICK: Thank you, thank you, you beautiful people! Thanks for having us here tonight! Can I get a big round of applause for the gratuitously talented Mister Eugene Woods here!
[audience applauds]
EUGENE WOODS: Yay!
ZOE CRICK: Pendrington, Pendrington, Pendrington. What a place. What a great settlement you guys have here. You know, I did some research on Rofflenet last night, asking around about Pendrington.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: As you do.
ZOE CRICK: As you do. And someone told me that you've lasted this entire time without losing a single person.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, now, that can't be right, surely!
ZOE CRICK: Is that right, or is that just - ?
[audience cheers]
EUGENE WOODS: Sounds like it's right. That's pretty impressive, you guys.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, I mean, just look at all these fences! We must have passed through – what, five sets of fences to get in here?
JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, this place must be more secure than Eugene's self-image.
[audience laughs]
EUGENE WOODS: Ha ha, very funny. Very funny.
ZOE CRICK: Calm down, boys, calm down. All right, everyone. We're glad to be here, really excited, and we can't wait to get the show started properly, after this song.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hit it! We love you, Pendrington!
[audience cheers and applauds]
ZOE CRICK: All right, welcome back. This is the Radio Cabel Road Show, broadcasting live from the village of Pendrington.
[audience applauds]
EUGENE WOODS: How are you feeling tonight, Pendrington? [audience cheers] Awesome, awesome! Well, uh, we've got a great show for you tonight. We've got some stories from the road, some tips from the Ministry, and we want to hear from all of you, as well. You know, on our way here, we were all talking about how excited we were to meet you.
JACK HOLDEN: Excited, terrified is what it really was.
[audience laughs]
EUGENE WOODS: Potayto, potahto. [laughs] Because uh, because you know we do these broadcasts from our little shack back in Abel or New Canton, and there are people there who listen to us, but we've never really actually met any other listeners face to face, really.
PHIL CHEESEMANl We hadn't even met each other face to face until recently.
EUGENE WOODS: Exactly! So we're having this big discussion about, you know, who are these people that listen to the show? Are they just like us? Do we have a specific crowd? Or, you know - ?
ZOE CRICK: Who the hell are all of you people?
EUGENE WOODS: Right! [laughs] Who the hell are you? So we made sure to spend as much time walking around before the show, chatting to a bunch of you, uh, so that we could find out.
JACK HOLDEN: And basically, you're all just people.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: And some dogs.
JACK HOLDEN: Right, right, yeah. People, and dogs, but the dogs don't really listen properly, do they?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Dogs have pretty acute hearing, Jack.
JACK HOLDEN: [sighs] I'm not talking about hearing, Phil. I'm talking about listening.
ZOE CRICK: They've got cows as well, and some sheep.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Dogs definitely hear better than sheep.
JACK HOLDEN: It's not about hearing!
PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm just saying -
EUGENE WOODS: [laughs] All right, wow! [laughs] I think what Jack was trying to say, Phil, is that the most exciting thing about meeting everyone here is that our listeners aren't just people who like tea or cats or conspiracy theories, or Jack. They're – as Jack says – they're just people.
JACK HOLDEN: Yeah.
EUGENE WOODS: People united by the idea that we can still have some of the old comforts, that we can still have music and jokes -
ZOE CRICK: Even if they're cheese puns.
[audience groans]
EUGENE WOODS: Especially if they're cheese puns. Anyway, [sighs] what we're trying to say is the best thing about arriving here on our first stop of our national tour is you, the audience.
[audience applauds]
JACK HOLDEN: Now Eugene's done pandering to you, here's a song we picked out especially for the occasion.
[JACK HOLDEN sings, audience cheers and applauds]
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh my God.
ZOE CRICK: Jack! Jack, that is the best dancing I have ever seen.
JACK HOLDEN: I am the dance master. Dancing baby! Dancing boy Jack!
EUGENE WOODS: [laughs] Mister Jack Holden, ladies and gentleman!
[audience applauds]
ZOE CRICK: Well, I hope that's answered your question. Jack is the funkiest member of the radio crew.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well now, now, now, hold on just a minute, Zoe. Jack might be a pretty funky cat, but I think you're forgetting about old MC Cheeseman over here.
EUGENE WOODS: MC Cheeseman?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's me.
EUGENE WOODS: You have to be kidding me. [laughs] You're kidding, right?
ZOE CRICK: [laughs] He's kidding.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Jack, if you would be so kind as to drop me a beat.
[EUGENE WOODS and ZOE CRICK laugh]
ZOE CRICK: This is not how I expected this evening to go.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Jack?
JACK HOLDEN: You're serious?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Damn straight.
[JACK HOLDEN beatboxes]
PHIL CHEESEMAN: [clears throat, raps] Yo. Yo. Yo. Hey people, better listen up! Grab yourself a seat and pour yourself a little cup - of wine, because now it's time, to hear Mister Cheeseman rhyme. Oh yeah. [audience cheers] Jack says he's funkiest. I doubt it. So take a break while I sing a little song about it. When you look at me, you see a plain guy. Kinda nerdy, drinking tea, and yeah, I guess I'm kind of shy. But that don't mean I'm boring. When I'm talking, no one in the house is snoring. When I'm singing, every person's ears are ringing - with my music. Yeah, I'm the funkiest, and everyone just heard me prove it!
[audience applauds]
ZOE CRICK: Mic drop, mic drop! MC Cheeseman in the house
EUGENE WOODS: Give it up! Oh, give it up, everybody! MC Cheeseman!
JACK HOLDEN: Cheeseman! Cheeseman! Cheeseman!
EUGENE WOODS: - I underestimated you, Phil. I've got to say, you've got some skills on the mic.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Aw, heck. It's just a trick I picked up at uni.
EUGENE WOODS: Still, it's not something I'd have thought -
JACK HOLDEN: Guys, guys. Look.
ZOE CRICK: Who the hell is that?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is that a gun?
JACK HOLDEN: Where's Sir Geoffrey?
ZOE CRICK: Here.
EUGENE WOODS: What do we think, guys? Is he dangerous?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Dangerous people don't normally wave, do they?
EUGENE WOODS: I guess we're going to find out. He's coming over.
JACK HOLDEN: Stand ready, everyone.
[van door opens]
MINISTRY GOON: Are you Jack? Or Phil?
JACK HOLDEN: Who's asking?
MINISTRY GOON: The person who's been keeping you safe these past weeks.
JACK HOLDEN: Uh, what?
ZOE CRICK: Oh.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: What?
ZOE CRICK: Well, the Ministry said we'd have an escort, but no one showed up at Abel before we left. I just guessed they'd scrapped that bit of the plan, but...
PHIL CHEESEMAN: So he's, what? Our bodyguard?
MINISTRY GOON: Head of the class, Cheeseman.
EUGENE WOODS: So you've been watching us this whole time?
MINISTRY GOON: Sure as hell haven't been sitting around with my thumb up my ass. It ain't easy work, either, keeping you all safe. Time to pay the piper.
JACK HOLDEN: Hang on, we didn't hire you. We're not paying. Go talk to the Ministry.
MINISTRY GOON: I don't need money, Mister Holden. Really, you should have been briefed on this. [sighs] In exchange for the Ministry's protection while you're out on your little tour, and for safe lodging at each community you visit, you are required to furnish the Ministry with such information as they request on each of the communities in question. Not ringing any bells?
ZOE CRICK: Hang on. You want us to spy on people.
MINISTRY GOON: Just a little census information, Miss Crick.
EUGENE WOODS: No way.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: We're not doing it.
MINISTRY GOON: Then I won't be on hand to keep you safe the next time you're face down in the dirt with a horde of zoms on top of you.
JACK HOLDEN: Zoe took care of them!
MINISTRY GOON: Aye, a couple of them, maybe. So I don't dare think what would have happened if my aim hadn't been so good.
ZOE CRICK: [sighs] What do you want to know?
MINISTRY GOON: So, three sets of fences -
EUGENE WOODS: Two wooden, one metal.
MINISTRY GOON: And about how many people in the settlement?
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, more than 50, fewer than 100.
JACK HOLDEN: Plus some dogs.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: Dogs, too.
MINISTRY GOON: Right. Well, thanks for your cooperation. I think my aim's going to stay pretty true for a little while. Go on, off you trot.
ZOE CRICK: Come on, boys.
MINISTRY GOON: See you soon.
JACK HOLDEN: I don't like it!
ZOE CRICK: I know.
JACK HOLDEN: Janine told us we'd be meeting her contacts, but not that we'd be bloody spies for the Ministry or whatever it is!
ZOE CRICK: I know!
JACK HOLDEN: Look, I'm just saying I don't like it.
PHIL CHEESEMAN: None of us like it, Jack! But what the hell -  
JACK HOLDEN: What? But what?
ZOE CRICK: Well, what can we do?
JACK HOLDEN: What do you mean, "what can we do"? We can -
EUGENE WOODS: It's time for some music, isn't it?
JACK HOLDEN: What?
EUGENE WOODS: Don't you think we should play some music for the listeners, Jack? I think it's time for us to take a break.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, uh, yeah. Okay.
4 notes · View notes