Disclaimer: I don't own Motorcity
Summary: Claire was right. Motorycity wasn't the best place for a Deluxe girl. But it was HOME, and that was what mattered.
...
Alright, so maybe it wasn't as clean as Deluxe was.
Yeah, it was dirty. Muk and grime buried into the cracks and crevices and pipes, dust covering every unused surface, and running a hand over anything was discouraged if you wanted to keep your hands clean. But that was fine, she'd always been a dirt-loving kind of girl.
Besides, Deluxe was too clean. Squeaky clean walls, crystal clear floors, everything so sterile you could literally eat off it with no worries. She wasn't a germaphobe, never had been, never would be. It was to much, in her opinion.
She rolled over, smiled. It was hard not to feel at home here, surrounded by her fellow Burners. Maybe she was looking to far into it. They invited lots of people over, and let injured people rest in the special wing set aside for said emergencies as many nights as they needed. She was, however, the only Deluxe girl to ever be asked to stay the night. Not that it was her first night over or anything, but it never seemed to get old.
It wasn't the quietest. Radios blaring, cars reeving, the odd yelling match, it was no surprise her hearing was quite as good as it used to be. Motorcity was a place of expression, and the citizens did just that. Expressed themselves.
Deluxe was too quiet. No cars, no music, no yelling, no random gang fights to wake you up at inhumane hours. A sound curfew started at the same time every day, and you could hear a pin drop late at night. It was enough to drive you crazy.
Mike understood. Butch too. They'd grown up in Deluxe, they knew how suffocating it was. How wonderful it was to get a fresh breath of air from time to time. Texas and Chuck both didn't really get it. They'd spent most of their lives down in Motorcity. They'd heard the stories, but they'd never lived them. But they did know one thing: she'd never truly be one of them.
Maybe that was why they trusted her so much. Why they'd welcomed her into there ranks so easily and et her sleep over. They knew she'd never truly betray them. Her clothes may be Deluxian, but her heart was with Motorcity.
If only they knew just how much trouble those loyalties put her in.
It was dangerous. It didn't seem like it, during day light hours or driving or safely tucked away in the Garage. It was those nights spent running through dark alleyways, separated with no working communicators, nights when the only sound around was yelling and fighting and her heart was racing because she knew if she didn't hurry she wouldn't survive the night...
Deluxe was worse. Claire didn't believe her. She was determined: Deluxe was a safe, nonlethal place to live. And it was; for her.
The closer and closer calls, the increasingly tense dinners with her father, the knowledge he'd never accept her and what she believed in and instead would imprison her for life if he found out. The long nights spent collecting data, the extensive collection of security cameras never far from her mind. It wasn't dangerous, not for the usually-rule-abiding Claire, but it certainly was for her.
She knew they'd find out eventually. She'd already had multiple close calls as it was. And she'd knew what would happen, they'd escape, Kane would publicly disown her, or say she was brainwashed. Something of the sort, and she could only hope the others would forgive her. Or let her stay with them, at least. After all, they'd let Mike live with them before they trusted him very much. And she'd have Mike on her side, right? He'd been one of Kane's officers, he understood.
So, Claire was right. Motorcity wasn't the best place to live, not if you were used to clean and quiet and safe.
But, she smiled, watched her friends sleep in various positions around her, she wouldn't have it any other way.
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