Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: TGIF
Friday night, and the streetlights were starting to come on.
I was waiting again. Just sitting was a bit of a novelty. I'd found out that as Red's assistant, my job involved carrying anything he didn't feel like carrying, and going and getting anything more than a few feet away. Not to mention that some of the equipment that we'd been repairing needed two people to lift. Red was a great guy to work for, but he managed to make me tired enough to feel like I had earned the money.
"Jack's" paycheck for the week was almost gone already, but we were caught up with the rent now. I had plans for the rest of it. She promised to meet me here, at the end of a street full of second hand shops, used book stores, and store-front churches.
The row of buildings on the other side of the street had been painted in strange colors during the last attempt at gentrification. For some odd reason, the intricate geometric brick-work of arched doors and windows had been obscured by bright paint. The shop at the far end was red, with the next one over orange. The yellow "Church of Sunny Weather" held the center of the block, the green one next to it, and the last one sported peeling blue paint. I could see the shadow of three awkward manikins on the dirty window. It was a thrift store.
"I guess that's the sunny side of the street," said her voice. She was standing just behind my left shoulder, and leaning on the back of the bench. "The assistant manager acted all surprised that I didn't want the dinner shift, but she decided to let Roxie go on her date."
"And here you are." She let me reach over my shoulder and take her hand. "Jack's a lucky guy. The pretty waitress is going to help him spend all his money."
"How much is that?" She walked around the end of the bench and sat next to me without letting go.
"Well, I've got fifty. It needs to get you a coat, and whatever's left can get us some dinner that someone else cooks."
She giggled, and rubbed at a ketchup stain on her white skirt. "If any place will let us in."
"Hey, not every place can be as classy your diner." I decided that I shouldn't really talk. I had gone to the trouble of putting on a clean shirt, but there was plenty of dirt between my pants and my work boots.
She stared off into the distance. "I don't need a winter coat. We should be saving up for the next escape, when they catch up with us." I though about how much the last two fake identities had cost us. Jack and Roxanne both had papers good enough to get real work. We'd been lucky to find someone reliable, and the price was high.
"We can't do that again." I felt like I was sinking into the bench, and our combined weight was about to crack the concrete, and we were going to sink into the center of the Earth. "We're stuck. We've just got to live the part."
"Roxanne is making me crazy," she told me. "She smiles and sucks up to people I want to damage." Her free hand formed a fist for a moment.
"I know what you mean. I keep thinking about what would happen if 'Jack' got into trouble with the law."
"Shit. They'd lock you up, and . . ."
". . . as soon as they figured out what they had, I'd be on my way back." I didn't mention the tranquilizers and heavy restraints that would probably be involved. Both of us knew how Manticore worked.
She shook her head, like maybe her dark thoughts would fly off. "Well, Roxanne likes the idea of shopping, anyway."
The door into the blue thrift shop was painted light purple, and stuck in the frame until I leaned on it. Bells on the inside knob jingled, and we were inside.
"Groovy," she said with an evil smile. She held up a pair of pants. "I always loooved bell-bottoms."
"If I don't like it, I can always take it off." She rolled her eyes at my offer.
We worked our way between the crowded racks of clothing. It was mostly sorted by size and gender. Things with sequins and fur trim were hung on the walls for decoration.
"Isn't this cute!" she exclaimed. Her fingers tugged at the hem of a very small pink dress with lace trim. The sign "Baby Clothes" hung over her head.
"I think it's a bit early to be shopping for that," I pointed out, and tried to suppress the panic. "Don't you think?"
"Well, yeah." She looked longingly back at the tiny dress as she followed me towards a herd of coats.
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: TGIF
Friday night, and the streetlights were starting to come on.
I was waiting again. Just sitting was a bit of a novelty. I'd found out that as Red's assistant, my job involved carrying anything he didn't feel like carrying, and going and getting anything more than a few feet away. Not to mention that some of the equipment that we'd been repairing needed two people to lift. Red was a great guy to work for, but he managed to make me tired enough to feel like I had earned the money.
"Jack's" paycheck for the week was almost gone already, but we were caught up with the rent now. I had plans for the rest of it. She promised to meet me here, at the end of a street full of second hand shops, used book stores, and store-front churches.
The row of buildings on the other side of the street had been painted in strange colors during the last attempt at gentrification. For some odd reason, the intricate geometric brick-work of arched doors and windows had been obscured by bright paint. The shop at the far end was red, with the next one over orange. The yellow "Church of Sunny Weather" held the center of the block, the green one next to it, and the last one sported peeling blue paint. I could see the shadow of three awkward manikins on the dirty window. It was a thrift store.
"I guess that's the sunny side of the street," said her voice. She was standing just behind my left shoulder, and leaning on the back of the bench. "The assistant manager acted all surprised that I didn't want the dinner shift, but she decided to let Roxie go on her date."
"And here you are." She let me reach over my shoulder and take her hand. "Jack's a lucky guy. The pretty waitress is going to help him spend all his money."
"How much is that?" She walked around the end of the bench and sat next to me without letting go.
"Well, I've got fifty. It needs to get you a coat, and whatever's left can get us some dinner that someone else cooks."
She giggled, and rubbed at a ketchup stain on her white skirt. "If any place will let us in."
"Hey, not every place can be as classy your diner." I decided that I shouldn't really talk. I had gone to the trouble of putting on a clean shirt, but there was plenty of dirt between my pants and my work boots.
She stared off into the distance. "I don't need a winter coat. We should be saving up for the next escape, when they catch up with us." I though about how much the last two fake identities had cost us. Jack and Roxanne both had papers good enough to get real work. We'd been lucky to find someone reliable, and the price was high.
"We can't do that again." I felt like I was sinking into the bench, and our combined weight was about to crack the concrete, and we were going to sink into the center of the Earth. "We're stuck. We've just got to live the part."
"Roxanne is making me crazy," she told me. "She smiles and sucks up to people I want to damage." Her free hand formed a fist for a moment.
"I know what you mean. I keep thinking about what would happen if 'Jack' got into trouble with the law."
"Shit. They'd lock you up, and . . ."
". . . as soon as they figured out what they had, I'd be on my way back." I didn't mention the tranquilizers and heavy restraints that would probably be involved. Both of us knew how Manticore worked.
She shook her head, like maybe her dark thoughts would fly off. "Well, Roxanne likes the idea of shopping, anyway."
The door into the blue thrift shop was painted light purple, and stuck in the frame until I leaned on it. Bells on the inside knob jingled, and we were inside.
"Groovy," she said with an evil smile. She held up a pair of pants. "I always loooved bell-bottoms."
"If I don't like it, I can always take it off." She rolled her eyes at my offer.
We worked our way between the crowded racks of clothing. It was mostly sorted by size and gender. Things with sequins and fur trim were hung on the walls for decoration.
"Isn't this cute!" she exclaimed. Her fingers tugged at the hem of a very small pink dress with lace trim. The sign "Baby Clothes" hung over her head.
"I think it's a bit early to be shopping for that," I pointed out, and tried to suppress the panic. "Don't you think?"
"Well, yeah." She looked longingly back at the tiny dress as she followed me towards a herd of coats.