A/N: A little short, plot-wise, but it's complete. Wonder what's coming next?
"Hey Jimmy!" Rachel called out as she passed him, heading straight to the lockers to trade out her leather jacket for a more work-appropriate top. She'd probably need the jacket later when it started getting cold, but she'd get it when she needed it. With hard hat on head and reflector jacket on and zipped to hide the fact that she was only wearing a sports bra, she stepped out onto the docks to head back to Jimmy for her assignment for the day. After all, ships came and went every day with new cargo to load and unload, and store, so they had to keep up and assign different ships and loads to each person as they came in.
Typically, she was on the "loader crew." Being a woman, she was therefore thought of as less powerful, muscle-wise, than the "manly men" and thus left with the relatively delicate loading machines. They handled like mules half the time, but she had gotten used to it, and she was always happy to assist the people doing hand-loading and unloading like people did in the old days.
When she got there, Jimmy gave her an odd look, obviously studying her. They both knew that it wasn't odd for her to wear her jacket like this. In fact, it was kind of required by the United States Government to help reduce accidents and related injuries/deaths. She was also fairly certain that it wasn't because she'd forgotten to grab a work shirt at home and only had on her sports bra under the jacket, as it was a winter coat for the chill and zipped up pretty well, hiding her "nakedness" pretty effectively. Given all that, she really wasn't all that sure why he was looking at her like that. "What?"
"You look different Rachel." He said, confusion obvious in his voice.
"What do you mean?"
"I... don't know." he admitted. "You just, you look older."
"Well," She began, a sly smile on her lips. "I hope you mean along the lines of 'more experienced and wiser'."
After a hesitant moment and an equally hesitant smile, he nodded. "Y-yeah, kinda like that." He looked down at his clipboard and frowned. "According to this, you're not supposed to be here."
Rachel blinked. "What do you mean by that?" She said, honestly confused.
He looked her straight in the eye and told her, "There's a note here that says you're to be given paid leave for," He paused, looked down at the clipboard again, and his brows furrowed with much confusion as he read straight from the note "'Recuperation from a traumatizing experience'." He looked back up at her, and then went on the defensive from the annoyed look on her face. "That's what it says, word for word." He offered the clipboard, and she pulled the offending piece of wood and metal from his hands.
Jimmy had never lied to her, and it looked like he wasn't about to start as, true to his word, that was exactly what it said. Paid leave for recuperation. Signed off on by their collective boss, Mr. Abandonato. She looked up at Jimmy, just to verify that he was just as confused as she was. "This doesn't make sense."
"No shit it doesn't make sense." He retorted. "I mean, we've all heard the guy has mob connections, so he's not about to do something without reason especially when it costs him but we all know he never abandons one he considers as one of his own, but this? He works us to the bone every night with less than usual pay and all of a sudden somebody gets paid time off? It stinks of something."
"Honestly? It doesn't stink or smell, it reeks rotten of someone screwing around." She told her boss honestly. "Especially as there isn't a date specified as to when I should get back to work."
"Yeah, I know that." He hesitated, then gruffly said, "You want my advice? Don't question it and head on home."
"I hear ya, but I can't just head on home." She said earnestly. "I need to help out somewhere before I can leave. I came here to work, so that's what I'm going to do."
Before Jimmy could respond, there was a sound like an explosion, or at least of lots of metal crashing down. They both instinctively ducked at the sound and Rachel looked over. It was the tall old shack they'd had on their section of the docks for years, enough that by size and age, it might as well be another warehouse in it's own right. Part of the corrugated sheet metal roof had caved in, and the seams of one of the walls seemed to have split open.
She looked back at him, noticed he was gaping at the sight, not a little bit discouraged, and turned to go over to the shack, stating, "I'll go help clean it up."
As she approached, she vaguely heard him protesting, but ignored him as she began to hear the music of Steppenwolf blaring from someone's boombox, which was currently playing "Born to be Wild" inside the warehouse.
From there, she stepped inside, looked around for the most obvious piece of mess that she knew she could clean up, and started helping. A few times, she had to subtly add in a little extra strength, making her appreciate SportsBoost even more, or subtly apply a bit of Telekinesis to keep a piece of metal rubble stable in her arms, especially while carrying that large ruined shelf while listening to (and softly singing along with) "Magic Carpet Ride". But, with her help, they did manage to get the entire mess cleaned up within ten minutes.
Well, the little bits of mess took 10 minutes. Pulling away the giant piece of detached roof took 20 minutes on it's own, partly because she didn't want to reveal the abilities granted by Tonics and Plasmids just yet, partly because it was so big and unwieldy, which also meant it needed at least 5 people to move it at all effectively, and partly because they didn't really know what to do with it. In the end, they folded it in half along the crease made by some sort of falling object and pulling it out by one of the bay doors. Carefully, of course.
Then she grabbed a tall ladder while no one was looking and went around outside to check on the outside.
Upon closer inspection, the outside wall was in surprisingly good shape, given it had been ripped from the metal framework of the shack. The only real damage was to the riveting that was keeping it connected to the framework, which was very thin. Thin enough maybe...?
She climbed down the ladder and started moving over to one of her stashes, where she kept some extra equipment and materials. Including, just now, a small pneumatic rivet gun from Harbor Freight. It was only about $45 when she bought it, and the larger rivets it can use (and that were being used right now) were just the right size for this job. With a few subtle precision uses of Telekinesis to remove the shorn rivets, she set the sheet of siding back into position and began to rivet it back into place.
Then came the hard part. The roofing. Or so she thought...
Looking straight at it, she murmured, 'This won't be so bad,' then she glanced over her shoulder, checking for any gawkers. After a moment of secluded silence she sighed, knowing that there were just too many people nearby to give it a good pass. Even if they weren't looking now, any substantial noise or large movement could bring their attention right when she doesn't want it.
'Later," she muttered under her breath, 'I'll come back later.'
Fewer people, fewer witnesses.
Without warning, the ladder dislodged, interrupting her thoughts, and her skull, with a jerk. The ladder began to wobble, causing the top rung to pull away from the wall, displacing her center of balance and causing the ladder to teeter precariously. The top rung slammed into her forehead, disorienting her thoughts and grip.
She panicked and lost her grip on the sides of the ladder. Idle thoughts flew out of her head. She grabbed the sides quickly, but it was too late. The ladder began to fall backward, heading straight for the asphalt. With a crash, she and the ladder landed in a pile of metal leather and flesh...solidly.
She dislodged the ladder from her person with a groan. She sat up slowly as she felt around the back of her head. She winced a little, but probably not noticably if they didn't know her. A little tender, probably gonna bruise sometime soon, but no blood. Nothing wet or sticky.
Well, certainly not the worst injury she'd ever obtained, and that's without counting her time in Rapture, during the civil war and after. Nobody was coming to help her, but that's because she'd made sure she was alone. And besides, she was a dockworker, and proud of it. She could handle a bruise or two and keep working without complaint.
She bit her lip. Then again, she was a little worried about Lizzie and Sophie, what with how abruptly she'd left them earlier today.
And, if Tenenbaum was right, then maybe she should spend more time with Lizzie, if only to make sure she didn't black out and die, or something.
Well, she thought, coming to a decision. If Mr. Abadonato was going to give her paid leave, then she would take it.
Standing up and dusting herself off, she began to walk out to the front of the loading area, only stopping when she bumped into someone, and the growl beginning to form in her throat to the man to be careful or to watch where he was going died in her throat as she looked at suit-covered muscle, and then looked up.
Ercole Abadonato, local mob boss. She'd looked up his name once on a whim through baby name sites. Literally translated, his name was "Hercules the Abandoned One".
He was big. Must've been something like seven feet tall, and those muscles look like something Arnold Schwartzeneger or Mr. Universe in their primes would have. Or a Splicer on too much SportsBoost with a little Armored Shell added in for good measure.
"Man," She whispered. "Who spliced Brute into your cheerios?"
Apparently, her musings weren't quiet enough, as the big man turned to her with an amused smile. "I did." He joked right back.
She gave him a weak smile and chuckle. Hesitantly, she raised a hand and gave him a quiet "Hi".
"What's your name?" He asked curiously.
She swallowed nervously. Man, Rapture does not prepare you for dealing with big men that might want to kill you, but won't do so right away. This was nerve-wracking. "Um, Rachel Dodge."
He gave a faint frown, amusement not gone from his face. "Dodge? As in, Lieutenant Commander Thomas Dodge?"
She nodded, feeling a little faint. "Yeah, he's my dad. Some of his advice came in real handy recently. Great guy."
"Mr. Abadonato!" Jimmy called out, slightly panicky, as he came running over, a frown on his face.
Mr. Abadonato turned to Jimmy. "Isn't this woman supposed to be on paid leave?" He asked while gesturing at her, frown gone for a more neutral face but the amusement was still there in his voice.
"Yeah," Jimmy growled, that frustrated tone he sometimes had with her creeping in. "She stayed to help out with a mess, that's all."
"Oh?" He asked curiously, turning to look at Rachel in an odd manner. "Is that so?"
She swallowed. "Yeah. Just a big mess caused by the roof falling in. A new sheet or two wouldn't go amiss to keep the weather out. I got the old stuff out of the way for ya."
He gave her an almost fond smile. "That's nice of you. However, from what I've heard, you should be home, resting, recuperating. Not almost giving yourself another serious back sprain from heavy lifting." He made a shoo-ing motion. "So go home. Eat something unhealthy, and enjoy yourself."
Hesitantly, not really believing him, she did so.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Flash!
Drip.
"Man, what kinda psycho would do this?" She asks.
Drip.
"The kinda psycho who loves his religion a little too much." He responds.
Drip.
Flash!
"And what religion would do this?"
"Christianity." Drip. "Well, Romanism, technically, but the Romans were the ones who came up with the idea." Drip.
"What, being nailed to a board?"
A nod. "Yeah." Drip. "See, that's what they did to Christ, they whipped 'im with a cat-o'-nine-tails, which is this nine-tendril whip with all sorts o' crap tangled up in it, like rusty nails and bits of glass, cut up all his back so it was bleedin' like nothing." Drip. "Then they nailed 'im hands and feet, well, just hands at first, to this gigantic piece of wood. Made 'im carry it, all two hundred-plus pounds for over a mile of cobblestone and rocky dirt without shoes whilst everyone threw rocks and rotten fruit at 'im." Drip. "He also had a sort of mockery of a merit badge on his head, which is where the thorns come in. See, crowns, like rings of interwoven flowers and the like, were handed out like merit badges in pre-school but he got thorns shoved into 'is head to make 'im bleed worse, cuz they wanted to be extra cruel." Drip. "He could barely breath, was in pain from those lashes and rocks and half blind from the thorns causing him to bleed in 'is eyes, and then when they nailed his feet into the board so that he hung like a convict form a hangman's noose, he couldn't breathe no more."
Drip.
"Jesus."
Drip.
"Yeah. Makes ya wonder what kinda sick animals we are."
She couldn't help but agree. "Yeah."
He nodded, then turned away as the NYPD Detective left the Coroner to her crime scene, one of the sickest reenactments of the Crucifixion of the book of Luke in the Bible, but instead of "This is the King of the Jews" being written on a sign above Jesus' head, there was a written notice in blood, at a guess the victim's blood, saying "Repent, for the time of Rapture is at hand. And those who would condemn it will be laid low, like the Golems of old."