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greenstickered2014-07-23 11:08 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2014-07-23 11:08 pm
Uncharted (Infinity Plays): Three's Company (prologue; probably three after)
Title: Three's Company ‣ prologue: First thing we should do
What: Uncharted fanfiction - part 1/probably 4
Rating: PG13 (language + mild violence)
Words: ~2500 + formatting
Summary: Harry figures he's relatively safe from arrest and chance encounters with old friends who want to shoot him in Turkey. What he hadn't taken into account was being hired alongside the partner of an old friend who likes punching him.
Note: Chapter titles from "forgetting something" by Nick Flynn. Thank you to my mother for suggesting the artifacts Charlie mentions.
Turkey's not your favorite country in the world, particularly after spending time in jail there several years before your second heist of the Istanbul Museum with Nate, but you figure it's been long enough and you've changed your look enough to be relatively safe from arrest there. Seeing as it's been far shorter since Nate spent time in a Turkish prison, you figure Turkey's also relatively safe from chance encounters with old friends who want to shoot you. (Of course, your chance encounter with Chloe has you readjusting your figures for every country.)
What you hadn't taken into account was being hired alongside the partner of an old friend who likes punching you. The man with the Cockney accent introduces himself as Charlie Cutter and squints curiously at you throughout your briefing and contract negotiation, but it's only when you're leaving the client's office that he asks, "We've met before, yeah?"
"Auckland," you reply. "I think I told you to stay away from a bar - I may have been a bit tipsy."
He chuckles. "I remember now. And then you made my partner late for a meeting," he adds, wary curiosity in his tone, which you take to mean Chloe hasn't told him about you. Interesting.
Also interesting is that word 'partner' again when she's not even here and really, you're his partner for this job.
"I worked with Chloe several years ago," you say. "We had a bit to catch up on."
It doesn't explain the look on her face, you know, but after a moment Cutter simply intones, "Mm-hm," and leaves it there. You're not sure whether you envy his self control or his trust in her more.
Probably his self control, because you can't resist adding, "She didn't mention a partner back in the day." Though to be fair, Chloe didn't mention a lot of things back then, like the fact that she was sleeping with Nate.
"She wouldn't have, no," Cutter says easily. "We met about six years ago now, working with a mutual friend on a personal project."
"Working together ever since?" you ask, wondering if this mutual friend would like to shoot you.
"Well, I'm working with you now," he points out. "We just work together when our interests or our clients' needs collide."
Oh, god. They're probably civil unioned.
"Anyway," he adds. "Did you want to carry anything in particular for our job?"
"No grenades," you say reflexively, because you still wake up sometimes clutching the sheets in your right hand. Cutter raises an eyebrow but says nothing. "Private residence, so tranq guns or Tazers at most, I think."
"Tranq guns," Cutter agrees. "Tazers get noisy. I know a guy who can set us up."
Somehow it always feels somewhat insulting when guards spot you not on your way in, but out. One of them shoots you in the shoulder. You only really register a sharp sting and Cutter shouting at you in alarm, and then you forget about it until well after the two of you have gotten away.
Cutter's actually the one who remembers, not you.
"What the hell, Flynn? That was point blank!"
After seven years, the excuse comes readily: "I wear Kevlar."
"Bullshit," Cutter says. "I've worn Kevlar and I still got knocked off my feet when someone shot me."
"Maybe I've got bigger balls than you," you retort, peering at the hole in your shirt. The angle's too awkward for you to really look, and moving your shirt around too much would disprove your imaginary bulletproof vest. "Ugh, this shirt is Paul bloody Smith..."
Cutter sighs and leans forward. "Give us a squiz."
"That's Aussie slang," you point out, backing away.
"Picked it up from Chloe for a laugh -"
He cuts himself off because he gets a hold of you, tugging the neck hole of your T-shirt down over your shoulder like you're an 80's pop star, and then he just sits there frowning at it.
"It's still in there," he says. "But not very deep."
"Stopped the bleeding?" you suggest.
"Yeah, yeah," Cutter replies, frustrated by confusion. "Look, I've got disinfectant in my hotel room if you want to see to that without getting the authorities involved, and you should."
And so you end up shirtless in Chloe's partner's hotel room, surreptitiously trying to figure out if Chloe herself is in town as Cutter squints at your shoulder: There's only one set of bags here and the jacket on the chair is Cutter-sized. Damn.
"This is seriously weird," Cutter mumbles, swabbing disinfectant on a pair of tweezers.
"I'm lucky."
"Luck would be not getting shot in the first place," he points out. "This'll hurt -"
He digs in with the tweezers and pulls out the bullet. It hurts less than it did going in. You've had splinters that hurt more to pull out than this, but then, that was before. It does, however, start bleeding sluggishly, which you're oddly pleased about: Injuries having consequences make you feel more human.
Cutter gets out gauze and reaches for a bandage, but hesitates and then pulls out a sticking plaster instead. Smart man; you were about to suggest that yourself.
"You obviously don't want to talk about it," he says, mopping up the blood. "But can I ask one question?"
"So long as it's not 'can I use you as a human shield'."
Someone tried that once, that first year. You cut ties with her, not because you were getting hurt, but because you were kind of insulted, even if you have to admit you'd probably do the same in her position.
"Wasn't planning on it," Cutter says, rolling his eyes. "No, just - is this a regular thing with you?"
You grab the disinfectant and swab the general area of the wound with it. "Implausibly minor injuries or getting shot?"
"The former."
"Yeah," you admit.
"Alright," he replies, and you wonder why he's asking if it's not to use you as a shield. "So, better question: When did you want to meet the client?"
With the artifacts handed over and payment sorted, the only thing on your mind as you walk out of the client's safehouse is a kebab that isn't entirely terrible. You don't expect to be stopped by what feels to you like a light touch on your elbow and so must, of course, be more.
"Hold on, Flynn," says Cutter. "I'd like a word with you."
You fold your arms, raising an eyebrow. If Chloe's told him about you...
"Calm down, mate, it's nothing awful," he adds, probably inspired by the look on your face. "Or about certain things we discussed in the hotel. Actually, it's a job offer. Want to have a chat about it over drinks?"
"I can't stand raki," you blurt out, surprised.
The two of you end up in an expat bar Cutter knows, which he assures you likes making money. You decline to explain that complaint - no need to give someone offering you a job the impression that you're an alcoholic - but order a Stella. Cutter impresses you by paying.
"So I've got this gig in the Philippines."
"Maganda," you say, exhausting a third of your Filipino vocabulary.
"Mayap, actually - it's for someone from Pampanga, they speak Kapampangan there."
You make a face. Languages were never your strong point, and you're not sure you were fully aware the Philippines had more than one native language. Considering most people you've run into there speak English, you'd never bothered to learn.
Cutter takes that as his cue to start explaining the job: The client wants some swords that came from his village in the precolonial days back from a collector who snapped them up from a dumbass seller. It sounds doable - the location even makes it sound fun - and the pay's nice enough to be worth the flights out there and the additional expenses. But you kind of have to wonder...
"Why me?" You remember his questions while cleaning your wound up, and raise a hand to tap your shoulder, too light for you to feel on either end. "Is it because of...?"
"Of course not," he says, looking somewhat offended. "No, it's because the girl who was originally working with us just pulled out - family emergency - everyone else I'd usually call is busy, and we worked well enough together here, I thought. And you've worked with Chloe, too -"
"That was a long time ago," you cut in. He hadn't said Chloe was involved.
"I could find some random online," he concedes. "But it's always easier with someone you've worked with before, and I know you have the cash to get out there."
Fairly often he'd be correct about jobs being easier with repeat colleagues, but you are possibly the last person on earth Chloe would be happy to work with again.
It probably wouldn't do to make Cutter aware of this, or of why.
"Give me a day to decide?" you ask, by which you actually mean check with Chloe.
"Yeah, sure. I know this is a bit sudden."
What: Uncharted fanfiction - part 1/probably 4
Rating: PG13 (language + mild violence)
Words: ~2500 + formatting
Summary: Harry figures he's relatively safe from arrest and chance encounters with old friends who want to shoot him in Turkey. What he hadn't taken into account was being hired alongside the partner of an old friend who likes punching him.
Note: Chapter titles from "forgetting something" by Nick Flynn. Thank you to my mother for suggesting the artifacts Charlie mentions.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: (no subject)
this reminded me of you: http://www.reddit.com/r/australia/comments/21p42a/drop_bear/
btw i hope i didn't screw up your auckland job by making you late. nz was the last place i expected to see you tbh.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re:
i'm glad you remember my drop bear lessons from borneo.
no, we still got hired. job's done and dusted and i've been out of nz for a month. old client of my partner's wanted the best in the business and we were in the south pacific, so.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re:
i must say, your rep has really helped me stay out of your way all these years. clients practically weep about how they couldn't get the best in the business b/c someone else hired you on the other side of the world.
when you say partner, is that work or domestic?
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re:
sorry, you don't need to answer that.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re:
wasn't planning to.
Turkey's not your favorite country in the world, particularly after spending time in jail there several years before your second heist of the Istanbul Museum with Nate, but you figure it's been long enough and you've changed your look enough to be relatively safe from arrest there. Seeing as it's been far shorter since Nate spent time in a Turkish prison, you figure Turkey's also relatively safe from chance encounters with old friends who want to shoot you. (Of course, your chance encounter with Chloe has you readjusting your figures for every country.)
What you hadn't taken into account was being hired alongside the partner of an old friend who likes punching you. The man with the Cockney accent introduces himself as Charlie Cutter and squints curiously at you throughout your briefing and contract negotiation, but it's only when you're leaving the client's office that he asks, "We've met before, yeah?"
"Auckland," you reply. "I think I told you to stay away from a bar - I may have been a bit tipsy."
He chuckles. "I remember now. And then you made my partner late for a meeting," he adds, wary curiosity in his tone, which you take to mean Chloe hasn't told him about you. Interesting.
Also interesting is that word 'partner' again when she's not even here and really, you're his partner for this job.
"I worked with Chloe several years ago," you say. "We had a bit to catch up on."
It doesn't explain the look on her face, you know, but after a moment Cutter simply intones, "Mm-hm," and leaves it there. You're not sure whether you envy his self control or his trust in her more.
Probably his self control, because you can't resist adding, "She didn't mention a partner back in the day." Though to be fair, Chloe didn't mention a lot of things back then, like the fact that she was sleeping with Nate.
"She wouldn't have, no," Cutter says easily. "We met about six years ago now, working with a mutual friend on a personal project."
"Working together ever since?" you ask, wondering if this mutual friend would like to shoot you.
"Well, I'm working with you now," he points out. "We just work together when our interests or our clients' needs collide."
Oh, god. They're probably civil unioned.
"Anyway," he adds. "Did you want to carry anything in particular for our job?"
"No grenades," you say reflexively, because you still wake up sometimes clutching the sheets in your right hand. Cutter raises an eyebrow but says nothing. "Private residence, so tranq guns or Tazers at most, I think."
"Tranq guns," Cutter agrees. "Tazers get noisy. I know a guy who can set us up."
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: i'm working with your partner
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: i'm working with your partner
i heard. stop asking him about me.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: i'm working with your partner
sorry.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: i'm working with your partner
he seems like a good guy.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: i'm working with your partner
charlie's good to work with, yeah. he'll have your back.
Somehow it always feels somewhat insulting when guards spot you not on your way in, but out. One of them shoots you in the shoulder. You only really register a sharp sting and Cutter shouting at you in alarm, and then you forget about it until well after the two of you have gotten away.
Cutter's actually the one who remembers, not you.
"What the hell, Flynn? That was point blank!"
After seven years, the excuse comes readily: "I wear Kevlar."
"Bullshit," Cutter says. "I've worn Kevlar and I still got knocked off my feet when someone shot me."
"Maybe I've got bigger balls than you," you retort, peering at the hole in your shirt. The angle's too awkward for you to really look, and moving your shirt around too much would disprove your imaginary bulletproof vest. "Ugh, this shirt is Paul bloody Smith..."
Cutter sighs and leans forward. "Give us a squiz."
"That's Aussie slang," you point out, backing away.
"Picked it up from Chloe for a laugh -"
He cuts himself off because he gets a hold of you, tugging the neck hole of your T-shirt down over your shoulder like you're an 80's pop star, and then he just sits there frowning at it.
"It's still in there," he says. "But not very deep."
"Stopped the bleeding?" you suggest.
"Yeah, yeah," Cutter replies, frustrated by confusion. "Look, I've got disinfectant in my hotel room if you want to see to that without getting the authorities involved, and you should."
And so you end up shirtless in Chloe's partner's hotel room, surreptitiously trying to figure out if Chloe herself is in town as Cutter squints at your shoulder: There's only one set of bags here and the jacket on the chair is Cutter-sized. Damn.
"This is seriously weird," Cutter mumbles, swabbing disinfectant on a pair of tweezers.
"I'm lucky."
"Luck would be not getting shot in the first place," he points out. "This'll hurt -"
He digs in with the tweezers and pulls out the bullet. It hurts less than it did going in. You've had splinters that hurt more to pull out than this, but then, that was before. It does, however, start bleeding sluggishly, which you're oddly pleased about: Injuries having consequences make you feel more human.
Cutter gets out gauze and reaches for a bandage, but hesitates and then pulls out a sticking plaster instead. Smart man; you were about to suggest that yourself.
"You obviously don't want to talk about it," he says, mopping up the blood. "But can I ask one question?"
"So long as it's not 'can I use you as a human shield'."
Someone tried that once, that first year. You cut ties with her, not because you were getting hurt, but because you were kind of insulted, even if you have to admit you'd probably do the same in her position.
"Wasn't planning on it," Cutter says, rolling his eyes. "No, just - is this a regular thing with you?"
You grab the disinfectant and swab the general area of the wound with it. "Implausibly minor injuries or getting shot?"
"The former."
"Yeah," you admit.
"Alright," he replies, and you wonder why he's asking if it's not to use you as a shield. "So, better question: When did you want to meet the client?"
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: bulletproof, eh?
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
you are underinformed.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
i'm quite well informed but exaggerating for dramatic effect. also that song just came up on my mp3 player.
go ahead. inform me more.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
remember the purple mutants, and how lazarevic was a bitch to take down even with four of us? i'm kind of like that, except i think i'm going normal again. things hurt more than they did soon soon after shambhala. that bullet i caught today wouldn't have stuck even a year ago. i've been starting to feel temperature, wetness, and pressure more too. it's kind of nice.
don't tell cutter. or, god forbid, nate.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
charlie doesn't know much about shambhala and i haven't told nate we met up again.
i feel a lot better about punching you now, that's been confusing me for months.
any downsides?
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
i'd ask for an apology for punching me but i admit i deserved it and i'd actually wanted to punch myself.
it takes eleven beers to get tipsy and smoking still doesn't do much. in general the pleasures of the flesh take more effort for less pleasure, shall we say.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
you ought to be thanking me for punching you then!
so on the upside you quit smoking?
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
i'm not really into that and i'd rather a safeword when i am.
cold turkey. i was spending way too much money on trying to feel it.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
brave soul.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: bulletproof, eh?
that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
With the artifacts handed over and payment sorted, the only thing on your mind as you walk out of the client's safehouse is a kebab that isn't entirely terrible. You don't expect to be stopped by what feels to you like a light touch on your elbow and so must, of course, be more.
"Hold on, Flynn," says Cutter. "I'd like a word with you."
You fold your arms, raising an eyebrow. If Chloe's told him about you...
"Calm down, mate, it's nothing awful," he adds, probably inspired by the look on your face. "Or about certain things we discussed in the hotel. Actually, it's a job offer. Want to have a chat about it over drinks?"
"I can't stand raki," you blurt out, surprised.
The two of you end up in an expat bar Cutter knows, which he assures you likes making money. You decline to explain that complaint - no need to give someone offering you a job the impression that you're an alcoholic - but order a Stella. Cutter impresses you by paying.
"So I've got this gig in the Philippines."
"Maganda," you say, exhausting a third of your Filipino vocabulary.
"Mayap, actually - it's for someone from Pampanga, they speak Kapampangan there."
You make a face. Languages were never your strong point, and you're not sure you were fully aware the Philippines had more than one native language. Considering most people you've run into there speak English, you'd never bothered to learn.
Cutter takes that as his cue to start explaining the job: The client wants some swords that came from his village in the precolonial days back from a collector who snapped them up from a dumbass seller. It sounds doable - the location even makes it sound fun - and the pay's nice enough to be worth the flights out there and the additional expenses. But you kind of have to wonder...
"Why me?" You remember his questions while cleaning your wound up, and raise a hand to tap your shoulder, too light for you to feel on either end. "Is it because of...?"
"Of course not," he says, looking somewhat offended. "No, it's because the girl who was originally working with us just pulled out - family emergency - everyone else I'd usually call is busy, and we worked well enough together here, I thought. And you've worked with Chloe, too -"
"That was a long time ago," you cut in. He hadn't said Chloe was involved.
"I could find some random online," he concedes. "But it's always easier with someone you've worked with before, and I know you have the cash to get out there."
Fairly often he'd be correct about jobs being easier with repeat colleagues, but you are possibly the last person on earth Chloe would be happy to work with again.
It probably wouldn't do to make Cutter aware of this, or of why.
"Give me a day to decide?" you ask, by which you actually mean check with Chloe.
"Yeah, sure. I know this is a bit sudden."
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: you and me and cutter makes three?
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
this had better not be a repeat of our last travail a trois
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
christ, no. i've nothing against cutter.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
that's what i thought about nate until you turned up without him
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
nate = years of history, not all of it good + i figured out you were sleeping together when i thought we were together
cutter = one job and a couple meetings + i really don't care if you're sleeping together
also can i just say that i'm a lot less stupid now. that whole stupid trip was a lesson in how to lose friends and alienate people and while i could now teach a masterclass on it i have no desire to actually lose any more friends. or if we're not friends then i have no desire to return to your punching me in the face.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
i don't know if i can be friends with you, but we can keep the lack of face punching.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
that would be nice, yes.
i'm pleased we're having this chat, i never thought we would. what a weird few years it's been.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
between weird and you dead, i'm glad it's been weird.
From: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
To: Chloe <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
thanks.
so i take it you're alright with me tagging along then.
From: Chloe Frazer <cfrazer45@yahoo.com.au>
To: Harry Flynn <h___flynn@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Re: you and me and cutter makes three?
three's company.