Cracked Facade

The big scruffy man shot a dark glare at the small, neat man in his official uniform who walked into the interrogation room quietly and closed the door, walking over and leaning down close to say, "The fact is, you have two options now: I can take you below, and you will never again see the light of day… or we can fight our way up past five floors of guards and officials, and have a 23% chance of fleeing the country."

It was the same offer he made to everyone, approved by his superiors as a final test of loyalty, of intelligence, of common sense, and of logical thinking: Of COURSE it was a trap, it was so OBVIOUS, and of course, no one in their right mind would fall for it.

But this ragged fugitive from outside the city-system looked him right in the eye, not with trust (no one had trusted him since he was a small boy, and rightly so), but with wild, hopeless determination, and said, "When do we leave?" and Craig felt a painful flutter of hope in his chest.

Craig took the standard-issue pistol from his belt and flipped off the safety. "Stand up," he ordered, pointing it at the other.

The bigger man's eyes hardened. He didn't move.

Craig looked him dead in the eye. He was smaller and weaker, almost frail next to the muscly bulk, but he stood firm. "…A 23% chance that decreases with every moment you lack the courage to move," he hissed flatly.

The distrustful green-eyed stare continued, but the other man slowly pushed out the chair and got to his feet after a moment. "If yer gonna shoot me, better do it now," he growled.

"I may not. That is a chance YOU will have to take."

Still the man hesitated. Craig's eyes narrowed dangerously and the gun tilted slightly. Hatred grew in the green eyes.

"You can accompany me now, and have a 20.1% chance of survival, or you can refuse, and you chances drop to zero."

"It was 23 before."

"I mentioned that likelihood of success decreases with every moment you fail to take action."

They stared each other down. Then the green-eyed man's mouth tilted up in a dangerous smirk.

"Name's Rick," he growled low, not friendly, but at least a bit more open.

"I know," Craig said shortly.

"Well? I'm not goin' anywhere with you if I don't even know yer name."

"That is a terribly flawed principle," Craig said seriously, fingering the pistol. "I am Craig Winther, Deputy of Interrogation, second class.

"Second class, huh?" Rick drawled, his smirk turning nasty. "Guess you must not know the right people." He stood slowly, balancing with his tightly bound wrists behind him. "Don't shoot me in the back, Craig."

Craig's face remained hard, and he gestured with his gun for Rick to move. This shouldn't have happened, no one accepted the offer, he should take Rick back to the cells immediately, if not straight to the Equalizing Chamber. This was a bad idea, a TERRIBLE idea. He had never even THOUGHT of something so stupid before, because even the thought would have led to disaster. Immediate personal disaster.

He opened the door and spoke to the guard, who hurried off. Then he gestured with the gun for Rick to precede him.

"You shoot me, an' I'll strangle ya before you c'n blink," Rick rumbled threateningly.

Craig quietly stepped forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun hard to Rick's heart. He leaned closer. "You are in no position to make demands," he growled low.

Rick eyed him angrily. Craig stared back.

At last the scruffy man muttered something under his breath and turned. Craig attached a strong, retractable chain swiftly to Rick's handcuffs, then gave him a rough tap with the gun. Rick stepped out into the hall, his mouth set in a grim line.

Craig's mind careened wildly as they marched down the hall. Now and then someone passed by the other way. They never made eye contact.

This was… it was insane. He couldn't be doing this. It was too late to back out now, though. – No, that was stupid, it wasn't too late at all. He could still march Rick straight down to the cells. There was still time. It was completely feasible. That's what he would do, and he would carry out the Equalizing himself, and no one would EVER know of the errant thoughts this strange man caused.

He nudged Rick into the elevator, and stepped in himself. He stood like a statue until the doors closed.

And he pressed the button for the ground floor.

The elevator began to rise smoothly, artificial air blowing cool on their necks. Rick twisted around a little to look at him. His expression was still guarded, but there was an uncertainty there.

"You really gonna do this?" he asked softly.

"Don't speak," Craig snapped. It was stupid, it was dangerous, he knew better, it would get them both killed in horrible ways, him especially. He would be made a public example of first. And he had plenty of enemies. He didn't know a single person who would hesitate to gouge out his eyes with a rusty knife, given the chance.

When this kind of thing happened, and it DID occasionally, the employee was always made an example of. Usually tortured and humiliated to death in public. And everyone contributed to that torture and humiliation. Some because they believed what they were told, some out of genuine hate… most out of fear. There were usually a few at the back of the crowd, too afraid to stay away, but too closely tied to the victim to bear seeing them like that.

There would be no one like that when Craig was caught. He had always accepted that fact. Now, though, it wore a small hole in his heart. No one.

"Hey."

Rick startled him out of his brooding, and his head jerked up in irritation. They were nearing the ground floor.

"Just continue walking," Craig said flatly. "Do not speak to anyone. Do not LOOK at anyone. Do NOT stop moving unless I tell you. Set one toe out of line and I will have no compunctions about shooting you."

"You got it." The hard defensiveness was still there, but there was something dawning behind it that Craig had never seen before. He had no word for it, but it looked strong and bright.

Admiration, possibly? No, not quite. Closer to excitement, only quieter, smaller, but more… focused.

The doors parted with a soft hiss, and Craig hesitated for a second to take in the lobby. The elevators were back in an alcove. He knew the back ways of the facility, of course. Walking out the front door would be suicide.

Out in the main lobby, people walked here and there, some speaking quietly, most of them silent. This was not the sort of place for laughter or animated conversation. Craig quickly pushed at Rick, and they turned to the right, down a dark, narrow hall, to a little door on the left with a keypad and scanner that opened into the bright –

"Wh – Whoa, mate! Who're you? What are you doing out here? Nobody's supposed to be here!"

Craig's heart skipped a beat, and he reeled back. Rick had stopped dead.

The man with mousy brown hair quickly dropped his cigarette and stomped on it. "Come on now," he said with a bit more force. "I want some answers RIGHT NOW, mister!"

Then he squinted into the darkness behind Rick, and gave a strangled gasp as he staggered back a step. "O-oh! Uh… Didn't see you there. Sir. Sorry. Um… I'm sorry."

Craig straightened up instantly and poked Rick forward, striding out behind him. "Are you on your smoking break, Mr. Wheatley?" he asked sharply.

"Ah… I… well…" Wheatley looked around frantically, then flashed a sickly smile. "I… Of course I am. I mean, why else would I be here? Out here, smoking." He looked down forlornly at the cigarette he had stepped on.

Craig stared at him blankly. "…And yet, as you yourself mentioned just seconds ago, no one is supposed to be here." He looked slowly from side to side. "This is not, as you must be WELL aware, the designated smoking area."

"Um… well no, I – ha, I'm… I'm aware of that, yes… Uh… It's just… the… DESIGNATED area gets so… so crowded! I'm always stepping on people's toes over there! So I thought, best to take one for the team, be the bigger man, and just… just find my own space. You know?" He smiled desperately.

Rick shifted his weight subtly, but Wheatley noticed. "Who's this, anyway? Who're you?" He looked the big man up and down doubtfully. "You can't be an assistant, you're too…" His face wrinkled in disgust. "Actually, if I'm being totally honest, you look like a convict, mate."

Rick's eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Wheatley, you are to return to your post immediately. Your break is over, and you are NOT to use this door again," Craig commanded.

Wheatley's face fell. "Ah… right. Um… Just…" He fumbled in his pockets, then stopped and looked up again. "Just… what are YOU doing out here, then? With HIM?"

Craig's face grew stormy. "My business has never been any of your concern. Asking questions is MY job, not yours."

"Right, right, sorry…" Wheatley backed off, fumbling with the doorknob. "…Ah… It's locked…" He laughed nervously. "Can't believe it, I could've sworn I shoved a pen in there so it wouldn't… wouldn't close on me again. Just my luck, eh?" Slowly his face fell into a worried expression. "But… Listen, I don't mean to question you… Not at all! Definitely the LAST thing on my mind, don't you worry… but this doesn't seem right." He gestured at Rick. Craig's lip twitched, and Wheatley leaned closer, his smoky breath going straight up Craig's nose. "Is he threatening you, mate? Because I can help you out, I'm… I'm quite good at self-defense. I know all kinds of… all SORTS of moves! I know…"

"You know how to shut yer mouth fer two seconds?" Rick growled, and as Wheatley turned, he stepped forward and went to knee him in the gut, making Wheatley stumble backwards.

"You IDIOT," Craig hissed.

"I KNEW you were trouble!" Wheatley gasped. He pulled his own pistol, much smaller than Craig's, a flimsy little one-shot contraption, out of its holster with surprising speed and pointed it straight at Rick. "Just you… you back away. You picked the WRONG man to mess with, OH yes. Now… now put your hands where I can see them."

Rick was taut with annoyance, and he turned a bit to show Wheatley his bound wrists. His green eyes remained on the man with the gun… and the other man behind him, raising his own gun up to slam down on Wheatley's head. It would have worked, had Wheatley not turned just then to smile proudly at Craig. The butt of the gun scraped the side of his horrified face.

"Wh-what… What did you do THAT for?" Wheatley asked, aghast. Then realization dawned slowly. "Wait a minute… You're… you're in LEAGUE with him! I can't believe it, YOU, straight-laced, stuck-up, LAW-ABIDING –"

Rick delivered a powerful kick to the back of Wheatley's knees and swung around to punch him with his bound fists as he fell. Craig was already dashing forward, and this time the gun connected with Wheatley's skull with a sickening THUNK. The man crumpled with a small whimper.

Rick and Craig stared at each other. Craig's breathing was quick and shallow. He clenched his hands tightly to try to stop them from trembling, but didn't quite succeed.

Rick suddenly smiled. It was a big expression, stretching across his whole face, and there was an unfamiliar openness and warmth there.

Something in Craig's heart lifted. Just a small piece, he could almost feel it detaching from the rest of the heavy organ. His chin came up a bit, and his own expression lightened for the briefest of moments.

But it quickly set into returned to grim determination. "Remaining here is a bad idea. Especially with him here." He nodded to Wheatley on the ground.

"Well shit, let's get goin', then," Rick agreed.

"Wait."

Rick frowned suspiciously again. Craig gestured for him to turn around, managing to keep the gun from shaking too hard. And the bigger man complied, slowly.

Craig took out his keys, flipping to the right one before touching it gently to the handcuffs. They popped apart and retracted, and he caught them as they fell. Rick brought his hands in front of him, stretching and flexing his arms, and rubbing his wrists. He looked up at Craig slowly, his expression unreadable.

"Think you c'n trust me?" he asked wryly.

"No. But you will be of more use with your hands at your disposal.

Rick offered a slight grin. "Got that right. C'mon."

They darted between buildings and through alleys, stopping here and there to watch and listen.

"Rick," Craig tried out the other man's name, looking at him seriously. "If we're caught… make sure they kill you. Don't… don't let them capture you again."

"Why?" Rick frowned.

"It will not be pleasant."

"So what's yer plan?"

Craig's head jerked up, and he wasn't able to completely hide the panic in his face. "I… don't know."

Rick nodded slowly. "You leave it to me, then," he said firmly. "I don't know this place that well, so 'm gonna need yer help there. But I'll get us outta here."

Craig stared at him. He seemed entirely serious, even to Craig's trained eye.

Then his face relaxed for a second, and he flashed that big smile again. "C'mon, it'll be an adventure."

"We are both likely to die. Horribly," Craig muttered, glancing down as visions of torture flitted through his mind. He knew them all. He had developed some of them himself. And more were constantly being invented.

A strong hand closed over his arm, the one that held the gun. Instinctively his hand jerked up, but it was blocked by the big arm.

Rick was still smiling, but it wasn't so impossibly big anymore. "Relax, pal. Worryin's not gonna do ya any good."

"Let go," Craig spat. Rick did so quickly, holding up his hand in a peaceful gesture.

"Fine. …There's too many people around here. We're gonna have to wait 'til night."

Craig looked around uncomfortably. There wasn't anywhere to wait. Anyone caught loitering would be questioned.

"In here." Rick nodded to a rather shabby building on the left. He tried the door, then reached under his messy collar to pull out a small, thin piece of metal. He poked around into the keyhole for a moment until he heard a soft click, and he quietly opened the door.

Craig watched in fascination. He wouldn't go through before Rick, but when they finally did and closed the door, Craig turned to the bigger man. "The inhabitants may return soon."

"Nah, nobody's comin' in here any time soon. Look at the dust. Nobody's been here in a while."

Craig looked around and nodded slowly. That made sense. The evidence was there.

"Most modern keys are electronic," he said softly, staring as Rick fingered the little piece of metal. "How… did you do that?"

"I c'n show ya. It's not hard. C'mon."

For a few fascinating minutes, Craig leaned over the doorknob with Rick, watching the other man lock and unlock the door using only the little rod of metal. Then he tried it himself. It looked simple, but he made numerous attempts before he managed it.

"There ya go!" Rick said encouragingly, smiling again. "Nice!"

Craig stared at him for a moment before handing the piece of metal back. "It is a regrettably slow way of getting past an inferior locking mechanism."

"Worked well enough."

"And it would have done you no good at all in Aperture. Or any contemporary building."

Rick shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're outta there."

Craig fell to silent brooding. Rick walked around the ground floor, avoiding windows, poking into cabinets. He made no attempt to ascend the stairs after the third step creaked loudly under him.

It was early in the afternoon, and before long, both men were twitching at every sound, pacing with pent-up energy.

"Ya know what'll make this easier? If we try lookin' a little different," Rick suddenly said. He went to search through some drawers. "Especially you. Somebody's gonna recognize you. …Guess yer dumb friend back there's right, too. I DO look pretty suspicious."

"You do," Craig agreed, his eyes darting around. "Be quiet."

"Would ya quit worryin' at everything?" Rick complained. He came over holding a pair of scissors with black handles.

Craig shot up and turned on him in a flash, his whole body tense.

"Wouldja RELAX? Here." Rick turned the scissors around to hand them to Craig handles first. "Couldn't find a razor, but a haircut'd sure help slip past security."

The smaller man hid the tremor that ran down his spine. "That will NOT be enough to save you," he growled.

"Nah, but it'll help. C'mon."

"What – I am NOT a barber, I've never cut anyone's hair!"

"No problem, I don't need it even, just shorter. Less…" Rick waved a hand around, searching for the word. "Just less. Less hair."

"You must be EXTREMELY stupid to hand me a weapon and turn your back on me."

"You've already GOT a weapon, an' you've seen my back all day. If you were gonna kill me, I figure you had plenty 'a chances already." He flashed a dark smile, then turned to sit down on the floor in front of a plastic chair. "Now c'mon. I've gotta look different."

Slowly, Craig moved to the chair. He took the scissors. "It… will not be neat."

"Doesn't have to be."

It took a lot of convincing, but finally Craig began gingerly cutting Rick's hair, though he flinched every time a piece fell. Rick stood still, all too aware of the shaking hands, working from the top down, getting close to his ears, hesitating more and more with each cut…

Rick leaned forward, away from the scissors, and turned around. "Why don't ya let me do you first?" he offered quietly. He held out his hands. "Look, I coulda killed you before, too. Had plenty 'a time. We're in this together, I'm not gonna hurt ya."

Craig's face twisted into an ugly snarl. "I don't… I HARDLY think YOU could hurt me, I am ENTIRELY prepared to defend myself…"

Rick stood up and walked slowly around to Craig's back. He patted a narrow shoulder, making it flinch. "I hope you are," he said softly. Then he took the scissors from the shaking hands. "Now hold still. I'll try to make it… even."

Craig took a slow, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes. He could shoot Rick right now. He could get out of here, go back, and claim he'd been taken against his will. He'd heard the comments about his competence in a fight. People would believe it.

Big hands smoothed his hair down, and the scissors began to snip, starting at the back of his head. The scissors worked around to the right, and Craig tensed up more and more. When a finger brushed his ear, he couldn't help but jump.

Rick stopped. "Easy there," he murmured, stroking the hair around the ear. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. It's not lookin' too bad so far. Prob'ly not really yer style, but it'll grow back." He moved around to Craig's bangs. The smaller man's eyes were tightly shut, and he was still trembling and breathing hard. "Yer okay. See, if ya go up from the bottom, it's pretty easy. Then just clip around on top at the end. You'll look just fine." He took a hank of hair between his fingers and snipped up along it. All around Craig's head he went, smoothing, holding, cutting. Thin, pale hair fell away. Then he went back, trying to even it out.

"Not too bad," he finally said, stepping back. "Hold on, lemme get the extra off."

Big hands ruffled and brushed through Craig's hair, not gracefully, but with surprising gentleness. They were warm, Craig thought with a start. No one else had touched him in… he couldn't remember how many years. Since he was very young. He took a shuddering breath.

"There," Rick said softly. "Looks just like ya asked somebody to do it. I used to cut my little brothers' hair, ya know. My sister's too." Craig didn't move, so Rick continued. "There're six of us. …Were. Last I knew, just three 'a us were left. And our mom. Not even sure about that anymore."

He lapsed into silence.

"I… don't know if I want to do this, Rick."

Rick nodded slowly. "…Well… can't say I blame ya," he said heavily. "It's a shit-hole out there. I guess you got a pretty sweet deal in this place. Gotta be honest, I wasn't expectin' you to gimme a way outta there. Thought I was gonna die."

"…I make that offer to everyone," Craig said distantly. "It has been approved by my superiors. It is a test."

Rick went still. "…You sayin' this whole thing's a set-up?" he asked dangerously, clenching the scissors tightly.

"No one has ever accepted… and then reacted as you did."

"Figured I didn't have much to lose." Rick stared down at the smaller man who still trembled a bit. "You did ALL that, though. Made the offer, got us straight outta there, attacked that guy…"

A large shudder wracked Craig's thin frame. "I shouldn't… I don't know… why," he said, voice shaking.

Rick's hand came to rest on his shoulder blade, very lightly. "Maybe yer sick 'a livin' like this, an' yer not the type to just bash a hole through the wall an' make a run fer it, but if ya get what looks like a pretty good chance… yer gonna take it."

After a moment Craig pried his eyes open and looked up.

"What… is life like outside?" he asked, barely whispering. "Is the resistance very large?"

Rick gave him a tired look. "That's a story," he said flatly. "The whole thing's a damn lie. There's… not even enough of us out there for a resistance. Sometimes somebody tries to break in an' do some damage, but…" He trailed off, looking very troubled. "…We keep away from each other mostly. Unless ya got a family."

"Were you… born out there?" an odd tendril of curiosity unfurled in Craig's mind.

"Nah. Lived on the inside 'til I was fifteen. My dad was dead-set on gettin' us out, all eight 'a us. He an' my big brother died tryin'. Mom raised the rest 'a us. I helped out all I could; kinda had to be the man of the family. Didn't mind most 'a the time, but I didn't have a choice either."

Craig didn't answer.

"You got a family? …Married, maybe?"

The interrogator gave a short, humorless snort. "No. Don't be ridiculous."

"Figured it wasn't out 'a the question. You feelin' better now?"

Craig gave him an odd frown, and his hands rose to touch his hair lightly. His face twitched slightly. "It… is much shorter than I prefer."

"Like I said, it'll grow out. I got it pretty even, though." Rick rubbed lightly up and down the back of Craig's head. The smaller man's shoulders tensed, but his head tipped back a bit.

"…All right," Craig finally said with a small sigh. "This won't be attractive."

Rick let out a real laugh at that, handing Craig the scissors and sitting in front of him. "On top 'a THIS face? Nothin's gonna make me ugly, don't you worry!"

Craig paused. "You are ridiculous," he muttered, bending over to begin cautiously cutting at Rick's hair.

"But ya can't say it's not true."

The smaller man rolled his eyes. Rick didn't see this, and grinned at the silence.