Hey there, you awesome lovely people. Thanks for all your reviews. I didn't expect this much response. It's overwhelming. :') And thank you Razputin, Kersplatt and Aunty Soshul for clearing up my confusion about the all versatile pip-boy. Your inputs have helped to work out how we can take Butchie's pip-boy off so that we can take his tight leather jacket off which is just Awesome. (Not this chappie though. Sorry.)
Anyway, ahead of you is a chapter that I have a love+hate relationship with. Because it's a 'bonding' chapter in which nothing much happens apart from lots of dialogue and interaction. 'Bonding' chapters are such a pain and delight to write; cause there's not much plot progression (in my case, at least) but at the same time, there /should/ be meaningful character interaction cause it's important. Hmmmmm... *broods*
That said, onwards, my dear. Onwards...
Trouble
Chapter 12
"Seriously, man," Butch's voice shot through his system from his right. Irritatingly loud. Skin-gratingly annoying. But not unwelcome. Harkness blinked; the blue in his mind tingeing the external world. It was the colour of the gel he first woke up in, that all androids woke up in upon activation. Naked. Floating. In blue gel he didn't have the name for. He didn't have its exact shade in RGB either; he couldn't analyse memories. He supposed the colour had stained his vision and everytime he closed his eyes this particular blue flooded him. "What kinda security chief falls asleep on duty?" Harkness slipped from the stark blue swimming behind his lids into full alert, all systems in operation. "What if muties come?" Butch spoke again. It was obvious that Butch didn't particularly care if muties came. Just wanted to disturb Harkness.
"Shoot them," he replied. His voice had taken on a raspy edge that sounded like he had just woken up from sleep. But he hadn't been sleeping. Just resting. Charging up. If muties did come, he would have spotted them much earlier than Butch. Would get rid of them quickly too, efficiently. He wanted to correct Butch on that but decided against. Barber didn't need to know. Harkness blinked, waiting for the blue to fade. Till the only blues he saw were the sky, the water below the bridge and Butch's jumpsuit beside him. And his eyes. He turned to Butch and noted that he was watching, as usual. A small smirk was tugging his lips, pulled to the left a little more than the right.
"I ain't the security chief here," Butch said, amused for some reason.
"Right." He met that look for a brief moment before bending down to reach for the bottle of water by his feet. "I don't even know why you're here." Butch chuckled at that reply like it was something funny. It wasn't.
He still didn't trust the barber.
Well, not fully, anyway.
Nights with Butch was actually quite companionable. That was why he could shut his eyes for a while, 11 minutes 54 seconds. There had to be some measure of trust for him to consider shutting his eyes like that. It was… alright. He could get used to it. Probably already was.
That first night, when the barber said he wanted to visit Harkness on duty, Harkness didn't trust him. He read Butch's plan as something of a distraction - that as soon as Harkness was on the bridge, Butch would force into Zimmer's room. So, instead of going to the bridge at his usual hour, 1830 hours, Harkness had stationed himself in the midship deck to keep an eye out for the sneaky barber in the Vault jumpsuit. He expected the barber to break into Zimmer's room for whatever fucked up reasons he had. He started waiting at 1903 hours. At 2103 hours, he realised that no one was going to force entry and that Sister had passed him three times, Bryan Wilks twice and Mister Buckingham four times during his stay. It was evident then, that no barber was going to show up at Zimmer's. So, he went up the stairwell, heading for the bridge. And there Butch was. Leaning against the wall. Playing with that switchblade of his. Looking a little bored, a little pissed off, a little tired. Butch had been waiting for him. He greeted Harkness with a narrow glare and an exasperated 'About time, man. You gotta oil your joints or something?' Then opened the door as they both exited to the bridge. Same thing happened the next day and Butch said 'What? Your clock's a day late?' Irritated. Bored. Butch obviously didn't like waiting around very much. As they leaned against the railing, Harkness uttered an impressed-sounding 'Thanks'.
Because Butch had kept his word. And hadn't even attempted to enter Zimmer's room by himself.
It was impressive.
But, this…arrangement.
This was puzzling.
This had been a week of nights, three nights. That and those little random meetings in the ship. That little smirk that twisted and turned. They followed him for days now. And the barber perched on the railing beside him was starting to become a part of his routine. 1830 to 0500: bridge duty with Butch.
Why was he here?
Not that Harkness really minded. Butch being here meant that he wasn't causing trouble elsewhere on the ship. Just why was he here?
Harkness had studied the figure beside him and couldn't decipher him. Even after asking some questions and getting some answers, he couldn't figure Butch out. Not that Harkness could figure anyone out. Humans and their many idiosyncrasies; they were tough to read. But most people do follow a certain amount of logic and practicality, common sense. Butch seemed to follow some obscure code. Some Tunnel Snakes code which didn't make sense. Tunnel Snakes was the name of the 'meanest, most badass gang in the Vault'. Now, it was the 'meanest, most badass gang in the Wastes'. Currently, it was made up of one gang leader and one gang member. Both were the same person. The code apparently told Butch to cause trouble as much as possible, take jabs at android security chiefs and visit them at night. Because that was what he had been doing.
Didn't make sense.
Uncapping the bottle in his grip, Harkness put his lips to the rim and took a deep swallow of water. Lukewarm. But still refreshing. He offered the bottle to his companion. The barber pushed his fingers away and tipped the bottle over his open mouth. Swallowing the fountain of water. He drank some of it, an eighth of the bottle, before returning it to Harkness. Butch started whistling the brainwashing tune; he said it was the Tunnel Snakes anthem. Right. Another part of the Tunnel Snakes code. Butch tugged on the zipper of his jacket to make sure it was zipped all the way up; a nervous gesture. Leaning forwards, the water cast reflections on his face as he looked down, his back hunched over as he gripped the railing a little tighter. One push. A slight one was all it would take for Butch to crash into the water. But Harkness wouldn't make that push. And Barber knew that, of course. The snake at the back of the jacket sneered at him.
"Chief," Butch nudged his arm with a covered elbow. Harkness faced him. There was genuine curiosity on that face. That and a kind of nervousness. Or tension. "Why you gotta be out here? Why can't we be indoors?" He ignored the 'we' as a collective form.
"I'm on duty."
"Man, I know. But y'know..." No he didn't. Butch tugged on the zipper again and hissed something at the sky before looking back at him.
"Something bothering you out here?" Something was troubling Trouble? Bullshit. Harkness scanned the surroundings in case there were intruders. Nothing.
"Nah," Butch answered. No hesitation whatsoever. Then, "You staring at…the thing up there." He pointed at the sky. "Is that an android thing?" Well, that was unexpectedly harmless. And generally unexpected. Butch pulled up his already popped up collar to cover more of his cheeks. As Harkness stared at Butch who was waiting for an answer, some things occurred to him.
"The sky bothers you," he stated. Butch's gaze didn't waver. His face slowly shifted into unreadable. That wouldn't be a big deal if he hadn't seen many of Butch's expressions. But he had, so this face meant that the barber was trying to be evasive. Harkness turned to the sky, R17 G29 B26. There wasn't much of this story to tell, really. Just another one of his daily reminders. A harmless one. Reminding him of how much he had evolved from A3-21. But telling Butch this story would bring him into his confidence. Not that he wasn't already, cause, hell, the barber already knew what he was. And Butch kept his word, didn't he? So…What the hell. "Back in the Commonwealth–"
"Android land?" Butch interrupted. Harkness nodded.
"Back there, the sky was a constant R40 G40 B40." He glanced at the Butch. "I didn't notice that till I decided to run. Cause I wasn't programmed to look at the sky." Because androids were programmed to only execute their wired programs. Nothing more. Nothing less. Looking at the sky was something insignificant. Pointless. For the most part, it actually was. But that first moment his gaze had travelled upwards, noticing the clouds had signified a mark of change. Harkness could feel an alteration within him, something turning him a bit more of a man, less of a machine. Something in him felt liberated. Not only did he act outside his own hard wired coding, he could also interpret that the sky shouldn't be that unhealthy colour.
"What's R40 B4 whatever?" Butch piped up in a harsh whisper like they were sharing some sort of secret. They were, weren't they?
"R40 G40 B40." Harkness turned to him. "A fucking dull grey." Butch chuckled, letting a smirk slowly slip onto his face. The tense shoulders relaxed, somewhat. Seeing that, Harkness realised that he himself, was tense. He hadn't made a habit of telling others of his android nature. This…was a first. And it felt… strangely good. He couldn't place where the source of the feeling was, just that it spread over his chest warmly. Telling Butch this snippet of his life felt quite liberating as well, to some extent. He watched the way Butch had started playing with his switchblade, twirling it around his fingers over the water. The glint of the light on the blade caught and held his attention for some time, 7 minutes 32 seconds, until Butch spoke.
"Y'know. Vaults ain't got… the thing up there." The sky. Yes. He knew. He flicked his gaze up at Butch. "I mean I ain't afraid of nothin'. But the thing up there… creeps me out." Well… this was a rare confession. It was… intriguing. Not just the subject matter. But the fact that Butch was admitting something to him was intriguing. Amusing, even, but that was purely because of the subject matter. Butch shrugged and turned to him. Whatever he saw on Harkness' face made him stop twirling the blade. He imagined he was probably showing a hint of a smile.
"Shut up, Chief," Butch warned but the smirk on his face was still there. The playful one. He pointed at Harkness. "You're afraid of an empty room."
"It's not empty. And you're not going in there alone." His tone immediately turned serious.
"Sure." Butch was unfazed. He stared at Harkness from the corner of his eyes, still maintaining that smirk. "Wanna go in together?"
What?
As far as ideas went, this one wasn't such a bad one, actually. Going in together meant that one would watch the other's back. If something happened, they would both be facing the problem. Better than either one of them going in alone, that was for sure. …Bullshit. Was he seriously considering Butch be a part of this?
"I'll… think about it."
To listen to the mean, badass, brainwashing Tunnel Snakes anthem, go to: you tube .com /watch?v=S0ximxe4XtU
Thanks for reading!
