A note of thanks, for Miss Tides, for being such a good sport. ^ ^
Chapter V
Peter was awoken to the bright glare of sunlight on the white, stucco ceiling above the bed. He gazed at it a few moments in a numb daze, thinking of how it reminded him somehow of popcorn, before his eyes widened, and he issued a sharp curse, "Walter! Walter, damn it, wake up! We overslept!" he swept the blankets away, stumbling onto the carpet.
Walter merely moaned from his facedown position in the pillows.
"Get up," Peter said, yanking on a pair of jeans and searching around for a shirt, "We don't have time- crap, it's nearly nine! Walter!" he reached over to jab a thumb into his fathers' side.
Walter yelped with pain, contracting into a ball, "That hurt, you idiot! I bruise like a peach, you insensitive clod!"
"We have to get going," Peter replied, his voice muffled as he pulled on a shirt, "You've got to brush your teeth and get dressed," Peter proceeded to rush about the hotel room, gathering their belongings and stuffing them into a rucksack.
Walter rolled over and sat up, rubbing the mist from his eyes and coughing softly, "Were are we going, now?"
"Another hotel, we can set up again there. We can't stay in one place, you know that," Peter paused to consider the stubble on chin in the mirror, concluding that he might shave tomorrow, "where did you leave the system files disks?"
"Beats me," Walter replied, kicking his legs to shift the covers away from his knees, his face dim with exhaustion, "I can't even remember my own birthday. September fifth, or something."
Frowning with annoyance, Peter dropped to all fours, looking under the bed to haul out a heavy silver briefcase, "No, that's my birthday. We can't loose this, Walter, it's got the shipment in it. We'd be in deep shit, alright?"
Walter smiled distantly, completely dismissing his son's previous statement, "That's right, I'd never forget your birthday. It was the best day ever."
"Yeah, hallmark moment over. Hurry up and get dressed."
Walter looked slightly hurt, then moved on to other things. He scooped up the remote on the night table and flipped on the television, pulling on his robe as his eyes roamed the brightly colored cartoon characters that bounced back and fourth on the screen. A far-away look of bliss settled on his features, a nearly mute "gee," escaping him.
Peter took the remote back, changing the channel to the news, "Hey!" Walter exclaimed.
"No. Focus. We don't have time, we had to check out two hours ago- they can trace us after three days or more, we're on the permanent record," and he ignored the grumbling protests as Walter shuffled off toward the bathroom. Peter continued to gather clothes from the floor, and paused to look up at the screen.
"…Massive Dynamic can no longer be suspected for the crippling losses of its competitors in the past, as we have now been targeted ourselves," Nina Sharpe was saying to the news anchor, "and the simple fact that it was even alleged in the first place is nothing short of petty."
"What's this…?" Peter questioned, turning up the volume and having a seat at the foot of the bed.
"So you deny Massive Dynamic's involvement in the current epidemic of black market trading of information?"
Nina Sharpe's smile did not falter, "Absolutely."
"And the FBI? Do they have any more leads, on this crime or any of the others?"
Sharpe blinked slowly, and replied venomously, "No. Not yet. But I'm sure that the government can assure the security of the unaffected companies at hand, and the capture and punishment of those at fault."
Peter glared at the screen, "We'll just see who innocent and who's guilty when we get the rest of your information," he hissed under his breath, "until then, you just go on playing a saint."
"Oh Jesus! Peter!" came Walter's squeal of horror, "There's a spider in the bathtub!"
xXx
"You're such a girl."
"Don't deride me, boy! I cried out to you for help in my moment of need, and that's no laughing matter. It's a great sign of trust," Walter replied stiffly.
"'Moment of need?' It wasn't even a spider. Don't worry- next bit of lint and string that comes along, I've got your back," Peter smirked, pulling gracefully into the passing lane, "I'm your rock, Walter."
"If you're going to keep mocking me, I'm not going to talk to you," Walter grumbled, turning his flushed face to the window.
Peter laughed, "I'm just screwing with you, don't sweat it. Besides, I thought it was a spider, too."
Walter brightened, "Really? It was rather convincing."
"It'd have to be, to fool you," Peter assured him. It amazed him how much his father thought of his opinion, "But we've got other things to worry about."
"Yes. Like breakfast."
"No. Like living. We've got to come up with something, or Raze will have us with sauerkraut." Peter sighed, "Now, I've been over it a dozen times, and the final files are scrambled, without the last part of the coding . Do you think there's a possibility, however remote, that you could rewrite some of the programming to allow access into those files?"
Walter frowned thoughtfully, "I don't much care for sauerkraut. I do, however, like pancakes. Chocolate chip, in a smiley face, with no-"
"Yes, Walter, I know how you like your pancakes. Try to focus."
"If you know, then take the hint and get me some. Stop at a café and I'll see what I can do with your damn coding."
xXx
"Yes, but you don't understand. He won't eat them, if they have eyebrows."
The waitress eyed Peter flatly, then turned away, carrying with her the untouched pancakes, shaking her head and sighing, "Whatever."
"I'm not the crazy one!" Peter called after her, "He is!"
"You just keep telling yourself that," Walter smirked from behind the screen of the laptop. White digits reflected from the lenses of his spectacles as he typed on the computer, attempting to immerse himself into the coding.
Peter scoffed, "What? And you think you're not crazy? You've got to be kidding me."
"Oh, I know I'm crazy. It's just adorable how you think you're not a figment of my imagination," Walter frowned at the screen, "I think I've got something."
"Good, good. Keep at it," Peter stirred his coffee, glancing out the window of the café. The morning outside was drab, foggy and cold, and flecks of rain showed on the glass. He glanced up as Walter gave a grunt, panic crossing his features.
"No…" Walter whispered, "No… no, no, no, no! What are you doing to me?! Stop!" he was fairly shouting at the screen, and people were staring, "Oh, god damn it, NO!"
Peter rose from his seat and moved to the other side of the booth in an attempt to calm his father, "Walter, please, people are watching. You've got to calm down, it can't be like last time…"
"STOP IT!" Walter roared at the screen, shaking the laptop to send the coffee cups crashing to the floor, "NO!"
Silence and stillness for a breathless second. Then, and electronic beep.
Walter hefted the laptop and smashed it to pieces on the table.
"Walter!" Peter reprimanded sharply.
"Useless piece of trash!" Walter hissed, beginning to stab his table knife into the black screen, "A toy! A useless, frustrating toy!"
The waitress had arrived, "Hey, if you can't keep it down, I'm going to have to ask you two to leave-"
Walter's hand shot into his coat to encircle the hilt of his pistol.
Peter gripped his father's arm, twisting his shoulder painfully and forcing him back into his seat, "Yeah," he grinned at her brightly, "Sorry for the trouble. Can we get some more coffee?" Get out of here and mind your own business, his eyes told her coldly. Taking his hint, the waitress shuffled away.
It had happened before, it wasn't anything new. Walter often threw fits, when he couldn't fathom something, and often times, it was something so impossibly simple, it was simply below his intellect. Peter knew better than to do it himself, it only made Walter even more aggressive… he just had to keep an eye out and keep the damages to a minimum.
"I'm sorry, Peter, I'm sorry!" Walter was whimpering and Peter released his arm, "I'll fix it, I will! I swear I will!" he began to scramble for the pieces of the shattered contraption, scooping shards of circuitry to his chest, "It won't be like last time! I-I just need some glue, or something-" tears were flowing freely from both of his eyes, and he was trembling violently.
"Forget the computer, Walter. Just calm down," Peter replied evenly, placing a hand on his father's trembling shoulder while he slid the other in Walter's coat to gently pull the gun from the holster in his armpit, "did you take your meds, this morning?"
"I can even fix it with gum! Can you imagine? B-but I can fix it!" hurriedly he attempted to fit the circuit boards together, cutting his fingers on the sharp edges, "I'll fix it, and it'll listen to me, and we can get the information…"
"Walter, stop. Your having a serious meltdown, and I can't take you to a hospital if you hurt yourself again," Peter swept the components off the table and into the opposing seat, "Slow down, and take your medication."
"I don't need a doctor. I am a doctor, wouldn't you know? I'm a genius. They told me that, but I'm such a fucking idiot, I can't draw much of a comparison…"
"Listen to yourself, you're babbling."
"It deleted the information, Peter," Walter sobbed quietly, rubbing his eyes on the back of his sleeve, "All of it is gone. I broke the system, I always do, and it just stripped the damn thing- I think it was a trap, like that. You must be so angry with me…"
Peter felt lead settle in his stomach, and swallowed, "All-all of it?"
"But I can fix it-"
Peter shook his head, attempting to place a calm façade over his growing dread, "No, Walter, it's okay, you did the best you could. We'll just have to try something else…" but he could think of nothing. He felt a sharp splinter of plastic digging into the back of his leg.
xXx