Title: Port Output
Disclaimer: Teen Wolf is owned by Jeff Davis, and other associated parties. I do not make any profit from this story and the plot is purely fiction.
Summary: Sci-Fi-AU, Stiles goes searching for answers to Derek's questions
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, implied violence, Alternate Universe-Sci-Fi
Pairings/Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Jackson Whittemore, Danny Mahealani, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Boyd.
Word Count:
Author's Note: The second piece in my Port 'verse.
xXx
"How is it you know a Port?" Isaac asks as they sit around in their hideout. With hunters after them, they have had to abandon their home. Derek had been able to send out a warning to his family before he and his small pack had made a run for it.
"We grew up together," Scott admits from his position leaned up against the side of the train car. "We've been friends since elementary."
"How long has he been a Port?" Erica asks, curious.
"Eleven years," Scott says evenly, though he's not surprised by the shocked looks the pack sends him.
"That can't be right. You have to be eighteen to become a Port and the idiot said he's twenty-one. So that means he was ten when he became a Port," Jackson says.
Scott sighs, "Stiles' mom died of cancer when he was nine. The doctors said it was the sudden loss of a parental unit added on top of the grief that turned him unstable. They said that becoming a Port would help ground him, give him something to focus on besides his mother's death. He'd already been singled out to become a Port and after his dad okayed it, they went through with the procedure."
"So, he's good?" Boyd asks.
"He's good," Scott says.
It's just Scott and Derek this time as they step through into the room. This time Stiles isn't hooked up to the Port Connection, though he is in his chair reading a book. He looks up when they enter. "What, no dickhead this time?" Stiles asks when he sees only two of them.
"Stiles," Scott says softly, but he grins at his friend who just grins back.
Lydia comes walking in, drying her hands off on a towel. "Ready?" she asks.
Stiles nods and she heads to her computer, typing something into it as he sets his book aside. "You guys make yourselves comfortable. I don't know how long this will take," Stiles says as Lydia grabs the Port Connection and motions for Stiles to lie back on the chair. The two sit on the floor, backs against the wall as they watch Lydia insert the Port into Stiles' neck.
Stiles gasps as the connection takes and he surfaces in the Network. He's been doing this for years and yet he's never been able to get use to the disorientation of integration into the Network. It takes a few minutes shift over from his physical state of mind to his digital.
Around him is a riot of colors and numbers all jumbled and nearly indecipherable. Smirking, Stiles snaps his fingers and everything shifts around until it is recognizable as a room, bare of anything except for blank walls and a door.
Walking over to the closest wall, Stiles runs his fingers over the wall, ripples fanning out, images and documents appearing. Eyes flicking around, he grabs and pulls. Everything comes off the wall, hanging suspended in the air. Lines connect from one thing to the next, showing a vast network of information and databases that he has gotten information from. "Show me the Hale Pack, all available information," Stiles says and a document enlarges and comes to the fore.
Three hours later and Stiles is in the center of a vast web of information and a headache building between his temples. He hadn't realized that the Hunter's database would be so intricate. He's already found the information he needs, but he's had to walk circles and spirals around it just to avoid all the pitfalls and traps encoded around it.
It's almost as if they don't want this information to get out to anyone. But Stiles is stubborn and patient and he's slowly eroded their defenses down. Just one more…piece…Stiles types in one more string of code and the last film of defense shatters and disappears. Grinning, Stiles steps forward. Reaching out, he goes to open it.
The moment he touches it, it turns black. He tries to jerk his hand back but it won't budge. The black starts creeping up his hand and Stiles starts to panic. He should have realized this could happen, that the document was being used as bait to draw him in, but he been cocky, showing off to Scott and his Alpha. Now he was going to pay for it.
When Lydia's computer starts blaring, screen flashing red, Derek and Scott jump to their feet, looking around for some unseen threat. "What's wrong?" Scott asks. Lydia ignores him, typing furiously at the keyboard. "Lydia!" Scott yells.
"I don't know, but his heart rate is way too fast to be good," Lydia says, still ignoring them. The two werewolves listen and can hear Stiles' heart pounding in his chest, the panic rolling off of the man in waves.
"Stiles, Stiles! God damn it, answer me!" Lydia yells into her mouth piece. "Fuck," she yells, louder, fingers a blur on the keys. "Computer, initiate emergency disengagement of the Port, priority one," Lydia says into the mouth piece again, still typing.
"Password?" The computer voice from before says.
"Genim," Lydia answers.
"Acknowledged," the voice answers.
Lydia yanks off the head set and rushes over to Stiles. "This is going to hurt like hell. Please don't die on me," she mutters franticly, pulling the Port out with effort than before. As she pulls, Stiles body arches off of the chair, a silent scream falling from his lips. As the tip of the Port is pulled out, Stiles collapses back to the bed, shacking as if in shock.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Lydia mutters, reaching for something under the bed. Scott whines next to Derek, hearing his friend's erratic heartbeat and labored breathing. Lydia pulls a syringe out from under the bed and quickly injects it into Stiles neck.
A few seconds later, the shaking stops and Stiles' heart starts to slow, his breathing evening as whatever drug injected is taking effect. Lydia sighs, sinking to the floor with shaking knees. "Is…is he alright?" Scott finally asks as the sudden silence stretches on.
"I think so," Lydia says, eyeing her charge.
"What was that?" Derek asks.
"The information you wanted was a trap, meant to suck in whoever went after it," Lydia says softly.
Derek arches a brow at her words. "It's hard to explain to someone who isn't a Port. At best, it's like…like a computer virus or even a virus here. Except, this destroys the Port's digital form, basically deleting who they are. When that happens, there is nothing left of a Port. Just an empty body. They're just gone, forever."
Stiles lets out a weak groan at the moment. Lydia shoots back up to her feet, bending over Stiles' prone form. "Are you alright?" she asks, touching Stiles cheek.
"I…I'm not sure. I think so. What happened?" Stiles asks.
"You activated a virus of some sort and I had to pull you out forcefully before it could delete you," she says softly.
"Did you find anything?" Derek asks. Lydia glares at him, but Derek ignored her, eyes only on the Port.
"I was only able to get one word, before it started to degrade. I don't know if it will mean anything to you, but…" Stiles shrugs. "Argent."
Derek stiffens, eyes flashing red for a second before they fade back to their normal hazel. "I take it that it does," Stiles says.
Before Derek can answer, the door opens and Jackson steps back in. "We've got trouble. There's hunters on the way. They know we're hacking their network."
"Let's go," Derek says, turning away.
"Wait," Scott says, not moving. Derek turns to glare at his Beta. "What about Stiles?"
"What about him?" Jackson asks with a sneer.
"If hunters are coming, then they know who he is. I didn't tell you about him just so he could be killed because of us. I'd rather face the hunters, then let that happen," Scott says with heat.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, but doesn't say anything against Scott's words. Derek wouldn't want that to happen either. Stiles' has already faced one brush with death for them. "Is he fit for travel?" Derek asks Lydia.
"He is, but give me two minutes to get something for him just in case." Before Derek can even nod, she's back through the hall.
Two minutes exactly and Lydia is back, bag slung over her shoulder, bulging with who knows what. "All right, let's go. Scott, help me with Stiles," she says, beckoning Scott over. Between the two of them, they help the lagging Port out of the apartment and down the stairs.
Derek's Camaro is already waiting for them, Boyd's head poking out of the driver seat, a small Porsche idling right behind it. "Boyd, with Jackson," Derek says and the darker man slides out of the car and follows Jackson to his car.
Scott and Lydia slid Stiles into the back, Lydia next to him to act as a pillow while Scott takes the passenger seat. "We'll figure out what to do with you two later. For now, hold on," Derek says before revving the engine and peeling out of the parking lot.
They're some miles out of town when Derek pulls over to talk with the rest of his pack. Glancing into the back seat he can see Stiles hooked up to Lydia's small portable tablet, the screen dark. She has a blanket thrown over him, running shaking fingers through his close chopped hair, worry etched across her feature. Grunting, Derek gets out of the car, leaving the two humans to rest.
End.