Title: Port Input
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, Derek and his pack need help. Scott knows where they can get it.
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.
Word Count: ~1k
Author's Note: This idea just came to me and I decided to write it. I love making AUs.
xXx
"We need that information." Jackson growls, glaring at the other man who just sits calmly and stares back.
"And what you don't seem to understand is that I can't do it. To get anywhere close to that info, you're going to need a Port, which I obviously am not," Danny says, rubbing at temples in frustration. "Look, Jacks, I've tried, but I'm just not fast enough to get through. You really do need a Port."
"And just where are we supposed to find a god damn Port in this tiny ass town in the middle of the woods," Jackson asks.
"Jackson," Derek says softly and the teen stops his rant, taking a breath, getting himself under control.
"Actually," Scott starts.
"Really Derek, we have no idea where to even find a Port and even if we do, I highly doubt they'll let us anywhere close to them," Jackson says bitterly.
"Hey!" Scott shouts and the others turn to stare at Scott.
"What, McCall?" Jackson asks harshly.
"Uh, I know where we can find a Port," he admits, scratching his head.
Jackson stares at Scott for a long moment, "Why the fuck didn't you say so before!"
"This guy better be good," Jackson warns. It's just the three of them, the rest of the pack put on patrol around the apartment building they're in.
"Dude, enough," Scott hisses and presses the buzzer beside the door. A panel slides back and a screen blinks into life.
"Who is it?" a mechanical voice asks over the tiny speakers.
"It's me, Scott…and a couple of friends," he says. For a long second, nothing happens and then there's a click and the three inch steel door slides back, admitting them into the room.
It lets into a short hallway that is devoid of anything remotely homelike. It looks almost sterile. Scott takes the lead and steps through into the main room. It's bigger than they are expecting and on the other side of the room, pressed up against the wall, is a man, looking about seventeen, eighteen at most.
He's reclined back, eyes open and staring into space as they flick from one thing to another, never stopping for longer than a few seconds. His hands twitch on the arm rests, like he needs some sort of movement to keep the rest of himself still.
Jackson takes one look and starts to bitch of course, "You brought us to a freaking child? Really McCall, what the fuck? We need an experienced Port, not some child."
There's a loud whistle and they turn to see a woman coming through the door. Her red hair is pulled back in a tail and her green eyes glare at them. "Either shut the fuck up, or get out," she says simply.
Turning, she ignores them and walks over to the person in the reclined chair. Stuffing an earpiece into her ear, she stands in front of a computer in the wall. "Stiles, it's time to pull out," she says into the mouth piece. She frowns, listening to the voice on the other end. "I don't give a fuck how close you are to the information. You're only supposed to be under for ten hours max and you're already pushing twelve. Now, I'm logging you out."
She busily types some commands into the computer. There's a hiss of compressed air being let out and then a gasp as the Port surfaces from the Network. Stiles shuts his eyes tight, clutching at the arms of the chair as reality rushes back in.
The woman steps up behind the chair. She fiddles with something and Stiles gives a hiss of pain as the Port Connection is disengaged from his neck. She leaves Stiles in the chair, wiping the connection down and putting it in its holder.
"Hey Scott," Stiles finally says, opening blood shot eyes to look over at the brunette. Stiles' hair is shaved close to his head to help him keep cool, though the thin clothing he is wearing is soaked with sweat. "Nice friends you got there," the Port jokes.
"Shut it kid," Jackson says with a sneer.
"Oy, who you calling kid, dickwad? Twenty-one here," Stiles barks out.
"Enough boys," the woman comes in carrying a tray of food. "Here, eat," she says, shoving the tray at Stiles.
"Thanks, Lydia," Stiles says with a grin.
"Now, why are you here?" Lydia asks, the Handler leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, glaring at the three arrivals.
"We need information," Jackson says in a patronizing tone.
"No shit Sherlock, I already guessed that. What kind of information?" Lydia asks likes she's been forced to socialize with idiots.
Before Jackson can go off, Derek smacks him on the back of the head, shutting the teen up. "Three weeks ago, someone put in an order to the hunters to take out my pack. I want to know who put in that order and why."
"Were Hunter orders, that's in the Hunter's central database. That's some pretty secure shit you want. It's not gonna be easy or cheap," Stiles says around a mouthful.
"Money's not a problem," Derek says evenly.
Stiles looks over at Lydia. She nods, "He'll do it, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow. He needs to sleep." Stiles makes a face, but doesn't protest when she takes his tray of cleared plates away. Stiles lays down and turns his back to everyone. Lydia returns and steps up beside him, pulling another cord out from under the bed.
The Port is visible at the base of Stiles' skull. Lydia plugs the new cord in and a second later, the room is filled with Stiles' even breathing as he sleeps. "What is that one for?" Scott asks.
"It's how he sleeps. The price of being a Port is chronic insomnia. The only way to sleep is for them to literally shut down their minds like a computer," Lydia says quietly. "Come back tomorrow morning and we'll be ready for you," she says simply. Derek nods and leads his pack out. Soon, he'll know the answer to his question.
End