20 years later
Summer...
Finn paces around the room, fingers brushing against his lower lip as he tries not to worry over the fact that Santana was supposed to be back over two hours ago. He peers out of the window, or more the remnants of cracked glass that point from the pane, to see another patrol of guards headed through the street. The rations line isn't open yet, though that's not much of a surprise. Still, it means there's trouble brewing, and the government know it.
"Fucking come on," he mumbles to himself, "where are you, Tana?"
"Look at you getting your panties in a twist over me."
He turns in an instant at the sound of her voice. "Where the hell have you bee - " his eyes catch sight of the bruises and cuts over the tan skin of her cheekbones, along with the red split lip, "what the fuck happened?" She looks worse than usual, the material of her old, leather jacket scuffed and torn, while there are dirt stains all over her jeans.
"Relax, I got the ration cards. Enough to last us months." The small cards are dropped to the table, but Santana seems to have more pressing matters. She makes her way over to him, dropping her head in a sigh.
"And this?" he points to her wounds.
"I ran into a couple of assholes on the way back here." Hearing that, he feels his blood boil, wishing that he'd been there to teach them bastards a thing or two. "But that's not important." Then, she peers up, eyes glimmering, "I found Karofsky."
"What?" he stops worrying his lip, staring at her in disbelief, "you're lying." Somehow, the man's managed to elude them for days now, ever since screwing them over and selling their guns.
Santana shakes her head, a smirk growing on her lips. "That fucker's been hiding in this warehouse, sending other people to do his dirty work.," she gestures to her swelling cheek to make a point, reaching to dab a cloth in some alcohol.
"Karofsky's men did this to you?" he asks softly. Finn then sighs, "come here." He helps her to clean the cuts, eyes watching over her with care. "Tell me what happened."
"They jumped me out of nowhere, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I sorted them out. Besides, it's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to that fucker." Her hands curl into fists, knuckles whitening with anger. "He's owed us those guns for days." Santana's face hardens further. "No more chances."
"No more chances," Finn repeats quietly, staring down, "so what now? We go pay him a little visit?"
She nods, "he's out in a warehouse in Unit 5. But you can bet your ass that he's going to be hiding behind all his cronies."
"Fucking coward," he mutters. Moving over to the door, he holds it open for her, "ladies first."
"I ain't no lady."
Still, she moves forward and out into the blinding sun. Finn is on her tail, sauntering through the streets and taking in the world around him. Over the last few weeks the zone has been deteriorating. Less food means more desperate people, and that desperation turns into anger. The only retaliation is the army being more brutal – not only that but enforcing a stricter regime, with diminishing rations and a tighter curfew. Not that that's ever stopped him and Santana. For as long as they've been partners in this crazy world, they've had each other's backs, and they're always one step ahead of everyone else.
As they walk through to the gate, they see a woman trying to attack the guards, earning herself quite a beating. He watches from his peripheral vision, wishing that there was something that he could do, but intervening could mean his life and if there's one thing he's learned in all these years it's to survive. Keep your head low and just survive.
"It's not long until we end up like all those other zones," Santana says, "deserted." She glances back to the woman, now on the floor and crying, "she knows better than to fight"
"It's best to leave the fighting to the Fireflies," he mumbles.
They fall into silence, where only the sound of their boots hitting the floor reaches their ears. A car grinds to a halt up beside them, bringing out a couple of teenagers, who fight against every move made, "we're not infected! The scans are fucking lying!" They struggle against their bindings, to which the officer hits one with the barrel of his gun.
"Get them in there!" he pushes him inside an enclosure, not batting an eyelid as the kid falls to the floor with a painful hit to his face. He crawls onto his back, moving away with fear in his eyes. The gun is lifted and a shot aimed directly to the head. It hits, his body slumping instantly, the eyes now holding a lifeless shine.
Finn turns a glance the other way, slowly headed toward the guards patrolling the gate.
"Your I.D's," he commands, resting his gun to the side. He hands them both over, waiting for them to be checked over. "What's your business here?"
"Visiting a friend," Finn lies.
"Alright," the I.D's are handed back, "go on through." He nods in acknowledgement, stuffing them in his back pocket and stepping forward through the open gate. He isn't prepared for the explosion that occurs right in front of him, shaking the ground with immense force and making him duck for cover. Thick smoke bursts upwards, filling the air with an acidic smell.
The soldier pushes him out of the way, "get out of here! Go!" he shouts, dragging the gate closed once more. Finn is on his feet in an instant, slowly moving backward. The heat for the explosion can still be felt on his face and his ears ring loudly.
"It's the fucking fireflies!" Another yells, all soldiers headed over to the source - the now burning vehicle.
He feels Santana looming behind him. "we've gotta go."
"Unit 5 is now on lock down. All citizens please evacuate the area immediately." A voice calls over the city, the usual monotonous sound making Finn sneer. Still, he turns himself around and follows the lead of Santana, who's already got the door open of the nearest building.
"So much for the easy route," she mumbles as he steps inside. The door closed behind him, they tread forward within the decrepit rooms.
"Yeah."
"We'll take the Eastern side – we should be able to get there without running into any patrols."
Finn frowns, "when is it ever that easy?"
The two share a knowing look, both figuring what they're going to do when they get their hands on Karofsky. Truth be told, Finn has been pissed at the guy ever since entered the city, acting like he runs the fucking joint. The thing with Karofsky, though, is that he talks a lot of shit and makes too many deals that he can't keep; Finn always knew that one day it would get him into trouble. Looks like that day has arrived.
They find Clint in his usual spot, "how is this side lookin'?" Santana questions as he joins them in their walk.
"I went through there this morning. No patrols and no infected."
"That's what we like to hear," he nods.
The man cracks a smile, "what're you doing down there, anyway?"
"Looking for Karofsky."
"You too?" His eyes grow in surprise.
Finn peers his way, looking on with confusion, "we're not the only ones looking for Karofsky?" It's not a surprise, not really, but he's curious.
Clint shrugs, "yeah, Quinn has been asking around, too. Reckon' he's in trouble with those Fireflies." They enter the final room, where vines grow through the window panes and onto the battered, old couch. "Here we are. You need any help?" he asks, gesturing to the large shelving unit pushed in front of the hole to keep it hidden.
"We got it." Finn and Santana take their respective places, the object grinding out of the way as they push it. He groans while shoving its weight, grateful when they're done and he can take in a deep breath. Peering to his hands, he sees them covered in grime and wipes them along the fabric of his jeans worn jeans "Okay, let's go."
"Good luck," Clint offers, patting Finn's back. We'll need it, he thinks. As quietly as possible he enters the tunnel, switching his flash light on.
"It hasn't been long enough since I last came down here," he tells Santana.
"Let's just hurry up."
They do just that, which is easier since they're so familiar with the place. Though it's not allowed, the two often sneak into the city and out of the quarantine zone. How else are they supposed to survive, to get the goods they need? The government's lying to them, to everyone, and it's not going to be long until it all goes to shit. Maybe they'll move to another city, or perhaps they'll find themselves victims of another uprising.
The rooms are dark, darker than he remembers, but he still manages to see his backpack sitting in its place. "Look, our stuff from last time," he points it out to Santana. "Make sure that we've got as much ammo as possible." He frowns, stuffing his gas mask into the bag, "I have a feelin' Karofsky's men ain't gonna go down without a fight."
"Yeah, I have that feeling, too," she responds gravely.
He gets his guns in the bag as well, then swings it onto his shoulder, "alright, I'm geared up. You ready, Tana?"
"Ready to kick Karofsky's ass? Fuck yeah."
"Right, down this way." He leads her out of the room, through the maze of the building. Some rooms have been cordoned off by fallen over furniture, or by the building itself, collapsing under the test of time. It's a sad sight to see.
"Fuck, look at that," Santana stops him, "spores." He peers ahead, seeing the cloud of the little, white fuckers.
Finn sighs, shoulder shrugging off the backpack, "let's get those gas masks on. God, I swear it was clear last time we came down here."
"It was," she replies with a chilling tone to her voice. The two step into the spores, something which already unnerves Finn, even if he doesn't let it show. He never knows if something's going to go wrong, and he may end up infected. What will happen then?
"You sure he's in that warehouse?" he tries to change the subject.
"Positive." She smiles cockily, "I got my ways, Hudson."
His gaze peers away from her, before he mutters, "don't I know it."
Soon enough, they're free from the confinements of the building, finding themselves in the abandoned parts of the city. Well, abandoned by the soldiers. There's no telling who you may run into. The pair slowly enter some sort of settlement, an abundance of eyes watching them, as though hawks watching their prey, but they keep their heads high and stride through, their sight set on nothing but the warehouse.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" One squares up to him, though no one really comes up to his full height.
Finn scowls, when it's Santana that dissipates the tension, "he's with me, Henry. Back down."
"Oh," his grip on his weapon loosens, "I didn't realize…" As Finn makes his way past, the grimace on his face doesn't disappear.
"Get down!" Santana orders as soon as they arrive in the small area. "A couple of Karofsky's men, straight ahead." He ducks behind an abandoned car. "You see 'em?"
His eyes scrutinize the area, "yeah, I got 'em." Finn reaches for his pistol, taking one out with a clear aim to the head. There's no time for celebration as the next needs to be dealt with, this time a shot to the knee, disarming the bastard, before shooting straight through the neck. "Easy," he says aloud.
Santana is instantly up, "they probably heard those shots, let's get out of sight." With stealthy steps, they move through buildings and through alleyways. Santana's brain is like a map to the area, and she never takes them down a wrong turn. Just as he's about to sprint around a corner, her hand forces him against the mold ridden wall. "Wait, just listen."
Finn strains his ears, body stiffening against the hard wall when he hears them talking.
"So who's this bitch that we're keepin' an eye out for?"
There's a sigh, "someone that the boss fucked over. Apparently she got the better of two of our guys this morning."
"Dude."
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he recites, "and I hear she's still on Karofsky's tail. That's why he's so fuckin' paranoid."
"I'd sort out that bitch if I ever got the chance."
His body fills with rage, wanting nothing more than to strangle that fucker. Turning to Santana, he sees a look of pride on her face. "Looks like I got him quakin' in his boots. As for these idiots, let's sneak up and take 'em out quietly." Finn nods, glancing around the corner and seeing them headed their way. He places a finger to his lips, a sign to Santana, and keeps an eye out in the reflection of the car window before them. They wait for the opportune moment, before pouncing on the pair and strangling them. His struggles, more so than usual, but his iron grip doesn't sway, relentlessly blocking the air from his lungs. Soon enough, his body slumps against Finn's, and he drops it to the ground carelessly.
"Come on."
Just as they step into the open, gun shots surround them, and they retreat, reaching for their own weapons. "Fuck, how did they know?" he curses.
"Reckon' he's had patrols out all day." She pulls up a gun in either hand, "his mistake." With that, she throws herself out of their cover and begins shooting, one shot after the other. "Hudson, get your ass out here!"
"I'm comin'" he growls, jumping behind the nearest car and aiming at those going for Santana. He hits the floor, just in time to throw a hit in her direction. She ducks, rolling out of the way, and is back up in a matter of seconds. Finn smiles; she certainly is impressive. He tries out his own moves, making every shot count. But there just seems to be more and more, so many that he can't keep count.
"We're fucking outnumbered," he hisses her way.
"When has that ever stopped us before?"
His head snaps her way, "we got lucky before."
"And we're going to get lucky now," she announces, as she reaches for something in her bag. Finn can't see what, as he's too busy trying to take this guys out and trying not to get shot in the head, but the next second he sees flames flying through the air.
"Shit!" he screams, hiding down behind the car just as it explodes, a wall of flames appearing around the men. They cry for help, fire stuck to their bodies. Running away will do them no good.
"What the fuck was that?" he stumbles over to Santana.
She grins, "a new toy. It's called a Molotov."
Finn nods in glowing awe. "I like it."
They check over the area once more, over the mess of dead bodies, which they then walk through to find themselves facing the warehouse. "Time is up, bastard," Santana announces, holding her gun to her chest, prime and ready to kill. He follows suit. They can't use the stairs, which fell down long ago, so are forced to use the dumpster to pull themselves onto the second floor of the building. A bullet skids along his arm, searing the skin, "ah fuck!"
"Got it," Santana takes out the sniper with ease, "no sign of Karofsky yet."
"We'll find him."
Inside the building, he picks up any supplies that he needs and moves with agility, keeping his ears and eyes ready for anything. "Maybe he's in his office," she supplies, "wouldn't surprise me. A coward like him."
Finn peers up her way, kinking an eyebrow, "you have any idea where this office is?" She nods firmly, "this way. And hurry, I'm not letting the motherfucker get away with this."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Moving once more, they check the whole area, both sure that there must be some more of his men lurking around. That soon slips from his mind as he sees the office in sights, and right now he just wants to get his guns back so that he can go home. Well, what home is now. He steps forward, allowing Santana to go first, and as he makes to follow, a pair of strong arms wraps around his neck. Taken by complete surprise, he lets them dig in, starving him of precious breaths. Then his senses become alert, his ears picking up the jagged breath to the left ear. Instinctively, his elbow goes to hit the guy, knocking him back, and that gives Finn the power in the situation. Grabbing a discarded pipe, he swipes it back and forth, feeling the impact of the hit surge through the metal. He does so again, pushing the guy to the ground. One final, well placed hit has him dead, a huge gash on his head.
"You got him?"
He nods, taking back his breath, "yeah, he's gone." Finn discards of the pipe on the floor, following Santana as she stomps toward the office, kicking the door open.
It's empty.
"That fucker!"
"Wait…" he says, stepping into the room. He eyes the window, and moves toward it, seeing just what he wants. "He's on the run. Come on!" He jumps out first, hearing the footsteps of Santana behind him. Both aim their guns for Karofsky, one bringing him to the floor. They slow their pace, already close enough to him, and stop before the sleazy man.
"Well," Santana begins, placing her boot on his back and grinding it down, "look who we ran into, Finn."
"Please, Santana, don't do this."
"Shut the fuck up," she warns him with a menacing stare and the barrel of her gun pointed his way. "Why should I fucking listen to anything you say? You're a worthless piece of shit." Finn takes his opportunity to lean down, straightening out Karofsky's arm. "Where are my guns?"
He shakes his head, giving out unsteady breaths, "I don't… I don't know."
Finn sighs, reaching for his finger with his own rough hands. He waits a couple of seconds, before pulling it backwards, the usual crunch being heard by all. "Ahh, fucking hell." Karofsky scrunches his eyes closed with the pain, breathing through clenched teeth.
"Where are the fucking guns?" Finn demands to know, eyes cold as ice.
Karofsky still doesn't budge, weaselling out some shit about how they're stolen. "Tell us the truth!"
He sighs when the man keeps his mouth shut, this time forcing his whole arm the wrong way. "Shit, shit shit shit," he chants, on the verge of tears. Santana asks again, Finn now reaching for the other arm. "No!" he begs, "please no." He struggles under the weight of her foot, wincing at the pain from the gunshot and his arm. "I-I owed the Fireflies. I fucking owed them. I had to give them your guns."
"Now, you see there," Santana growls, "that is not what I wanted to hear." Finn finds his blood boiling to hear the fact that his guns are with the fucking Fireflies of all people.
"We can go get them," he pleads.
"And how do you fucking expect us to get them back?" he growls in Karfosky's ear.
The man is desperate now. "The Fireflies are low on numbers. We could take them out, the three of us. Yeah, and then you'll have your guns back. All of them, I swear."
Santana stands, her eyes meeting those of Finn's, before she shakes her head. "That," she pauses, "is a fucking stupid idea." And then she shoots a clear shot through his forehead. His body seizes in all struggling, and she pulls her foot off, pacing back and forth. "What do we do now?
Finn stands too, eyes briefly looking to the dead body before them. He then casts a glance over to Santana, "we find ourselves a Firefly."
"Easier said than done."
"Well, it appears as though luck is on our side," he responds.
She gives him a confused look, something that he doesn't often see from Santana, then follows his line of sight where they find Quinn standing a few feet from them. "The Queen Firefly," he then says, "to what do we owe the pleasure?" His voice remains as usual, lacking in any emotion. He notices that she looks more tired than the last time he saw her, eyes duller.
The blonde steps forward, appearing to be holding onto a gash on her side. "Have you seen Karofsky around?"
Santana nods, "sure have." Then she steps to the side, revealing the body as some sort of trophy.
"Shit," Quinn begins, rubbing her forehead softly. "We needed him."
"That piece of crap?"
She sighs, "we had a deal."
"Yeah, and so did we. But that bastard," she kicks his lifeless body, "sold all of our guns, to you. So now we have a problem." She folds her arms, waiting expectantly.
Quinn takes a step forward, standing her own ground. "Look, I can't just give you the guns back. In case you haven't noticed, we ain't been doing too well around here."
"No kidding," Finn says, nodding to her cut.
"Oh that, that's nothing," she shrugs it off, "but we're been losing men every day. It seems like we've always got a patrol of our asses." Finn nods, knowing that feeling, but right now the Fireflies are the least of his worries. He needed those guns to get him and Santana supplies in order to survive. "But I can make you a deal."
He frowns, "what do you mean?" He doesn't exactly want to be messing with these guys, seeing as they're such a target for the military.
She keeps it simple, leaning her weight against the wall. "I need something smuggled out of the city. And I'm not exactly in a condition to do it myself, am I?"
"What do you need smugglin'?"
"Does it matter?" she asks, "you get it where I want it and I'll give you your guns, and then some." He finds himself glancing at Santana, who certainly looks interested in the idea. He, however, is more cautious. The city may have patrols and the soldiers, but that means that there aren't as many infected, it means they're safe. Out there, it's anyone's game, and he's not sure whether he's ready to gamble his life.
Just as he's contemplating it, movement catches their attention. Quinn groans, peering down the rooftops, "another fucking patrol. We need to get off the streets." Her eyes rise to meet theirs, "follow me." Not even given a chance to say otherwise, the three move within the shadows cast by the buildings, following Quinn to this safe room. "Get down!" she orders after a few minutes of moving, "there are some ahead. Just… watch your back."
Finn crouches down, trying to keep his body as low as possible. These soldiers aren't the smartest guys out there, but they'll shoot at anything they see moving. He has his gun handy, just in case. He's a better aim, and is sure to take them out quickly. "Attention. Curfew is now in effect. Anyone caught outside without proper authorization will be arrested and prosecuted," the monotone voice echoes around the city.
"Which way now?" he asks as they find themselves staring at a ledge. "We ain't getting over this."
"There's a plank," Quinn nods in the direction, the movement weak, "over behind that wall there"
He's quick to retrieve it, placing it carefully so that the rooftops join. Quinn goes first, followed by Santana and then finally him. Below them, the soldiers march, completely oblivious to those moving within the city unauthorized. The three march on ahead, though he feels worried for Quinn, who continuously holds her side in pain. Still, curiosity sparks inside him; what could be so important that the Fireflies need smuggling out of the city? Surely they could wait, until Quinn or someone else were up to it. Why recruit strangers in for their job? He frowns – it just isn't like them to do this.
Santana seems to read his expression, whispering to him, "whatever it is, don't argue and we can just get our fucking guns back."
"You're the boss," he sighs.
"Right, here we are," Quinn says, keeping her voice low. Suddenly, a soldier lunges from the darkness, ready to strike. But he's not fast enough, not against Santana who is on him in an instant, tunnel vision on her target. She shoots three times in all, ensuring that he goes down.
Quinn drags in a deep breath, "holy crap. I thought we'd lost them."
"He must've been on our tail this whole time," Santana says, "let's get hidden before any more find their way up here."
"Gimme a hand, will you Finn?"
He nods, aiding her at the door. While she tugs on the handle, he uses his weight to force it open, catching Quinn as she stumbles forward, the injury having taken its toll on her. She drops to her knees, groaning softly. "Whoa, whoa, I got you," he mumbles, guiding her to sit herself down, "I got you, it's okay - "
"Get the fuck away from her!" a voice suddenly pipes up, leaving Finn barely enough time to turn and see some kid with a knife, aimed for him. He recoils, thankful when Santana is there to intervene, pulling the knife from her grip. The girl still glares their way, attempting to push past Santana who is having none of it.
"Hey, hey, hey," she warns.
The girl ignores her, eyes darting for Quinn and seeing the way she hides her wound, "oh shit, what happened?"
"I'll be fine," Quinn reassures her, "I-I got us some help." The girl peers around at Finn and Santana, her face difficult to read, "but I can't come with you."
"Then I'm staying with you."
"Rachel," she stops her, closing her eyes, "this is our only shot to get you to the other Fireflies."
Finn suddenly puts two and two together, eyebrows dipping in confusion and annoyance, "wait just a goddamn second, we're smugglin' her?" He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, "no fucking way."
Quinn steps forward, stumbling slightly and looking grateful when Rachel comes to her aid, "there's a group of Fireflies at the Capitol building – they'll meet you there. You hand over the girl and all the weapons are yours."
"Capitol building?" Santana scoffs, "that's not going to be easy to get to."
"That's why I asked you two." She moves her gaze from Santana to Finn, "you're capable, I know it. And when you come back, I'll give you double what Robert sold me in weapons. You in?" The two consider it, trying to make sense of each other's expressions.
It's Santana who speaks first, "I ain't smugglin' shit until I see the guns."
"They're back in our camp. I'll take you to them, get myself fixed up," she pauses, looking to Rachel, "but she isn't going to that part of town." Rachel frowns instantly, opening her mouth to protest. "I want him to stay with her," she nods to Finn.
"Bullshit, I'm not doing that!"
"Whoa, I'm not down for babysitting."
Both responses come out angrily, but Quinn keeps her cool. "Rachel," she scolds.
The girl steps forward, making it so her back is faced to Santana and Finn, before she whispers to Quinn, "how do you know these guys?" He can hear the genuine concern in her voice, though it's understandable. She doesn't know them, and the number one rule in this world is to trust practically nobody. "Are you sure about this?"
"I knew his friend, Will," she explains, "he told me that Finn could help if I ever needed it."
"Was that before or after he left your little militia group?" he laughs dryly, dark eyes glancing across the room.
Quinn's eyes narrow. "He was a good man, Finn, and you know it."
"Pfft," he shakes his head, hand running through his stubble. Before anything else is said, Santana steps by him, grabbing his arm. "We're not really doing this, are we?"
"Take her to the North tunnel and wait for me there," she orders.
"Santana…"
The woman holds her hand up, silencing him, "she's just cargo, nothing else." His eyes turn back to the girl, trying to argue her case to Quinn, but it's not working. Not at all. The last thing he hears is her deflated sigh before she slumps her shoulders and peers his way slightly. He grimaces, shaking his head.
"This is bullshit."
"I'll be back soon," Santana assures him. "Just… be careful." She steps over to Quinn, while Rachel slowly makes her way to him, sulking the entire time.
"Come on, kid, and don't fall behind."
"I'm not a fucking, kid," she mumbles under her breath, as he opens the door and leads her out.
And so, the adventure begins.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed this fic and reinforcing me in the thought that it was a good idea to post it :) Also thanks for all the favourites, subscriptions and even if you just read it. It means a lot to me.