Freddy Newendyke || Mr. Orange (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
super_cool) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2017-07-20 01:43 pm
super_cool) wrote in nexus_crossings2017-07-20 01:43 pm
NEW ARRIVAL :: AN UNDERCOVER COP, NERD, AND ALL AROUND DISASTER
Freddy’s pretty sure he’s dead. He’d like to believe everything – the heist, the getaway, the bloodbath back at the rendezvous – was just a fucked up dream. He’d like to. There’s no hole in his cheek, no bullets in his gut, but he’s still wearing the same clothes – black suit, white shirt, and black tie – and they’re still soaked with blood. There’s blood in his hair, splattered across his face, and coating his hands.
He’s sitting on the curb outside of something that resembles the type of cheap convenience store familiar to someone from Los Angeles during the late 20th century. Next to him is an open bag of Doritos, four empty bottles of shitty beer, plus two more unopened bottles of that same shitty brand... and also a welcoming pamphlet.
While he’s not exactly feeling any better than he was when he first woke up, the alcohol is at least helping him settle into a sort of numbness. He opens the pamphlet and reads. Most of it fails to register.
‘Do you have a question for the Nexus?’ the pamphlet says.
‘What the fuck?’ is all that comes to mind. He sighs and rubs his temple, before burying his face in his arms. It's been a long goddamn day. Thinking it over though, he does actually have a question:
“Does everyone who dies get sent here? Or is it just like”–his voice still sounds hoarse, so he coughs into his fist and clears his throat–“only certain ones?”
He tries to brush his hair back, but his bangs just flop back into his face. He opens another bottle. Don't worry, he’s not going to cry or whine about shit. He may be a hot fucking mess, but he’s still a tough guy, okay?
He’s sitting on the curb outside of something that resembles the type of cheap convenience store familiar to someone from Los Angeles during the late 20th century. Next to him is an open bag of Doritos, four empty bottles of shitty beer, plus two more unopened bottles of that same shitty brand... and also a welcoming pamphlet.
While he’s not exactly feeling any better than he was when he first woke up, the alcohol is at least helping him settle into a sort of numbness. He opens the pamphlet and reads. Most of it fails to register.
‘Do you have a question for the Nexus?’ the pamphlet says.
‘What the fuck?’ is all that comes to mind. He sighs and rubs his temple, before burying his face in his arms. It's been a long goddamn day. Thinking it over though, he does actually have a question:
“Does everyone who dies get sent here? Or is it just like”–his voice still sounds hoarse, so he coughs into his fist and clears his throat–“only certain ones?”
He tries to brush his hair back, but his bangs just flop back into his face. He opens another bottle. Don't worry, he’s not going to cry or whine about shit. He may be a hot fucking mess, but he’s still a tough guy, okay?
no subject
She almost asks him who he'd like to meet if he got the chance, but that's probably too personal to ask of someone she just met. "It hasn't really happened to me because most of the pop icons around here are from Earth media..."
Manipulative or not, she relaxes her shoulders when he accepts her help. All that blood is still making her anxious, even if otherwise he seems okay. "Great, I'll only be a minute."
She stands up and dusts off her pants, then pauses when he once again offers to get her something. Refusing a second time feels rude to her, so she smiles shyly and says, "You know those little individual pies? The ones that are full of preservatives so they can sit on a shelf forever? I'll take cherry if they have it." Those things never cost more than a dollar, anyway, and now that the idea is in her head, she finds herself craving one. "I'll meet you back here."
no subject
“What counts as sci-fi to someone who lives on a spaceship? I mean because a lot of what I watch is probably just realism for you.” He’s genuinely curious, and also eager to talk about anything other than those implications, which have mostly been compartmentalized, even though they’re probably something that he should be considering very seriously in the near future.
“Yeah man, those are fucking good,” he beams when she accepts his second offer. Dude, he loves those pies. It’s also like the least he can do, if she’s seriously bringing him clean clothes. And when she returns, he will be right where he was before, only with a pack of Red Apple cigarettes, and two of those delicious tiny cherry pies.
no subject
It's nice to see him smile like that. It takes the edge off all that blood. All the same, she doesn't waste time in heading off to get the change of clothes she promised. When she comes back, she's thrilled to see that the store did indeed have those tiny pies. She's less excited about the cigarettes, but she's not about to deny him his vice. Especially not when he's still recovering from... being dead?
The thought reminds her of Cylon resurrection and it's a moment or two before her smile returns, but when it does, it's genuine. "Here you go," she says, handing him a shopping bag full of clothes. There's a couple button-up shirts, a pair of jeans, socks and briefs, all freshly laundered. "Like I said, it might be a little big on you, but it'll do until you're able to go shopping."
no subject
In exchange for the bag of clothes, he hands her the pie, in its humble little cardboard box that’s smudged with his blood, before excusing himself to go change in the bathroom inside.
It’s quite a few minutes before he returns, but he’s looking much better now. The clothes are a little big on him, but that is not exactly unusual for him; he is a rather petite man. Most of the blood is also gone from his hands, and though there is still some stuck in his hair, it’s not as bad as before. He’s also feeling better, too. A little bit, at least.
“Thank you again,” he says, very sincerely -- almost overly grateful, even -- before lighting up one of those cigarettes.
no subject
It's just as well that her story doesn't mesh with the fiction that he's seen. The '78 version was cancelled before they found Earth, and the '80 version was a hot mess. But suspicions may arise once more if she starts dropping proper nouns. "Is that your favorite kind of sci-fi story, ones about aliens?" Her amused smile returns. "Someone here once assumed that I was an alien, since I wasn't from Earth. That was kind of funny."
Careful to avoid the bloodstains, she opens the box and takes out the pie. She doesn't even wait for him to finish excusing himself before she's taken a bite, making a small, happy sound when she breaks into the syrupy cherry filling. It's exactly as she remembers in all its processed, artificially flavored glory.
By the time Freddy returns, Adia is carefully wiping flakes of pastry off her hands, the pie long gone. She takes in his new appearance and smiles brightly. "Much better. You look nice." And young, too. The slightly too-large clothes make him look even younger, and she resists the urge to fuss with his collar or roll up his cuffs. "It's no problem, really. I'm glad I was able to help."
no subject
Character centric, optimistic, and with a strong moral core. You bet this little nerd watched Star Trek religiously as a kid... and as an adult, since Next Generation was still running in ‘92.
“I mean, you don’t look like an alien.” He laughs along with her, but he can see why someone would make that assumption. Doctor Who doesn't look like alien either, right?
“Thank you,” he repeats, although skeptical of the compliment. He may look better, but he still feels like the walking dead. He's not actually so young, either. Closer to thirty than twenty, in fact. It's an understandable and common mistake that people make with him, though.
While on his feet, he picks up the empty bottles, dropping them into a nearby wastebasket like a responsible citizen, along with the mostly finished bag of chips. That done, he sits back on the curb to smoke the rest of his cigarette.
“I should find a motel soon.” It’s a little mumbled. He still can’t fully comprehend that this is his actual situation. But she probably wouldn’t like it if he just stayed here drinking all night.
no subject
The fact that he's about as nerdy as she is when it comes to his choice of entertainment only contributes to his boyish persona. But she'll keep from making assumptions about his age. She's had plenty of people do it to her, and it can often be irritating instead of flattering.
It does tug at her heartstrings to see him still out of sorts, but a new wardrobe won't fix the mindfrak of being tossed into the Nexus. She rejoins him on the curb, mindful not to sit in the direction of the smoke. "There are plenty around here," she says kindly. "I wish I could recommend you one, but I've only spent the night in the Nexus twice, and both times were at my friend's apartment."
no subject
They are. So he has to ask, “Have you ever met Captain Kirk? Or Spock?” He’s almost afraid to know. What if she says that the real Captain Kirk is an asshole? No matter what she said earlier, he knows you can’t trust TV to tell you the truth about what’s what. It might be a lesson he learned frighteningly late in life, but he did learn it. More or less, anyway.
She’s so nice that it’s making him feel guilty again. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving her a tiny reassuring smile. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
no subject
Once he utters the name of the illustrious captain and his first officer -- well, then it becomes obvious whose adventures he's describing. "Oh! That's what Star Trek is about? The Enterprise? Yes, I've met Jim." Two different versions of Jim, in fact, but she's not keen on overwhelming Freddy with the concept of alternates when she's just informed him that one of his beloved characters is a real and breathing person. "Not Spock, although he knows about the Nexus, too."
Whether she can sense his fear of disillusionment or not, her next words should put his mind at ease. "Jim's been very kind to me. He cares deeply about his crew and the friends that he's made here. I hope you get the chance to meet him." She fidgets with the clasp on her messenger bag before admitting shyly, "Some day I'll work up the nerve to ask him for a tour of the Enterprise. It sounds amazing."
If she has the money or the resources, she'd try to help more, but he's probably right. It doesn't stop her completely from worrying. "Okay... but you'll, um. You'll be careful, right? You might have died before, but I'm pretty sure you're alive now."
no subject
“Yeah,” he says, nodding fervently. “That's him. He’s a really great guy.” Not a womanizer, nor a trigger-happy asshole, Captain Kirk was always principled and took his responsibilities seriously. “The crew of the Enterprise stick by him through thick and thin because they know they can trust him, and he trusts them too. If you’re his friend, and you ever need anything, he’ll do everything he can to help you." Even when you're turning into an all powerful sociopathic mutant! He smiles happily as he says, "He's super badass."
What she just said sounds so cool, it's a moment before he's able to respond. “You should definitely check out the Enterprise," he says, looking at her with awe. Star Trek may be an old show with lame special effects, but the design of the Enterprise always seemed like something that people in the future might really have one day. He’s getting flashbacks to being a little kid, wishing so badly to somehow get beamed up to that fucking spaceship. How is she not fucking with him?
Even if she did have more resources, he wouldn't accept them. “You don’t have to worry, I’m tougher than I look," he says. A statement most would take with a grain of salt, but it is true in some ways. “Plus, this place is supposed to be safe, yeah? Pamphlet isn’t bullshitting about that?”
no subject
For a moment, she wonders if her world is a fictional show somewhere, but she quickly dismisses the thought. Her life story is fraught with tragedy. Who'd want to watch that?
She's not so sure about his reassurance -- as tough as he may be, he still failed spectacularly to keep himself safe at least once. He said he was a cop, though, she should have a little more faith in him. "It is, but you can't always rely on the anti-violence field. It's less reliable the farther you are from the Plaza, and once in a while it'll fail completely."
Giving an uncharacteristically paranoid look around her, she leans in a touch and lowers her voice. "People can do other things to you, if they want to hurt you. I used to treat the Nexus like a safe haven, but it isn't. It's wonderful and still safer than my spaceship, but... just be careful, okay? Don't make the same mistake I did."
no subject
“Right,” he says, blushing. “I know.” Real people are not heroes or villains. It’s something he understands intellectually, but not quite emotionally. “Jesus, of course. I’m not going to spring that shit on him.”
Now, he gets it. It doesn’t seem fair to have been privvy to so many emotional and personal moments in a real person’s life. Suppose he were to meet somebody who knew about, say, the moments at the warehouse when he was whining and crying in Larry’s arms–because they watched it on fucking television. Not that anyone would want to make a show or a movie about his last hours, unless they were kind of a sick fuck, but still.
The look on Adia’s face when she mentions the dangers of the Nexus does make him concerned. Not for his own safety, since he doesn’t actually give a shit about that, but because it sounds like something bad happened to her here. “I’ll be careful,” he tells her. “I’ve still got my gun on me too." Though it's probably not of much use, even if it weren't out of bullets. "And I'll stick to the Plaza."
no subject
It was only a couple of years ago that someone she cared about very much ended up shot to death in front of her. (Like Freddy, he didn't stay dead, which made things complicated later.) Here, at least, she can do something, even if it's just a change of clothes and some well-earned life lessons.
That finally seems to settle her nerves -- not finding out he has a gun so much, but the fact that he'll stick close to the Plaza. "The shopping district is fine, too, and that's where you'll find most of the places to stay." She digs into her messenger bag for a pen and a piece of paper. "Would you like my contact information? I'm pet-sitting for a friend, so I'm in the Nexus almost every day."
Whatever happened to her, it must not have been bad enough to keep her from the Nexus. Or maybe when you're on the run from genocidal robots, nothing else can measure up.
no subject
He nods, stubbing out his cigarette while she's digging through her bag. “I was actually going to ask--” He doesn’t want her thinking he plans to call her up and bug her about stupid shit all the time though, so he clarifies, “You know, to return the clothes.”
And then, just in case he hasn’t said it enough, “Thank you, Adia.”
no subject
Finding a scrap of paper and a pen, she jots down a ten digit phone number and an email address. "I'm assuming at some point you'll get some kind of communications device?" she asks, handing it to him. "Or, um... your motel room will probably have a phone, and the computers in the Plaza are free."
Although she had been willing to part with the clothes she gave him, she's pleased to hear that he intends to return them. You never know when another Nexus curse will make the rounds, and she likes to be prepared. "Keep them as long as you need them. And feel free to text me if you think of any other questions."
Her smile brightens a touch. "You're welcome." People have been so generous to her in the Nexus, she's glad to finally pay it forward. And he's no longer covered in his own blood, which is a win for both of them.
no subject
And the thing about blood is that it gets sticky. Those clothes were not fun, and so he’s extremely grateful. No way's he going to let her down by not returning them.
He blinks. "Text?"
To him, cell-phones are just phones the size of large bricks, with really big antennas. Text is not a verb. Hello, 1992.
no subject
The Nexus has a way of making everyone equals. It's how someone as timid as Adia has managed to thrive.
Oh... he doesn't know what texting is. Shoot. "Um, some devices let you send text messages. This is what I use..." She pulls out of her messenger bag a small electronic device that looks like a glorified stopwatch. "It's called a PINpoint. There is a vending machine that dispenses them in the Plaza. It's what I use to get here and back from my ship, but it can also send and receive texts."
She shows it to him without letting go of it. He can look as long as he likes, but this is her only lifeline to the Chiron, the portal she originally stumbled through long gone. She's not about to hand it to someone else, not even a nice guy like Freddy.
"It gets voice messages, too, so you can call it if you want instead. I'll find a way to get back to you."
no subject
Blink, blink.
It's apparently the future, what did he expect? He nods and takes a step back. “That’s really cool.”
Maybe not the most intelligent response, but he can’t think of anything else to say, and ‘cool’ is about the best compliment you can give something. He almost asks her how it works, but it can’t be that hard. He’s clever enough, he’ll figure it out.
He checks his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. Adia’s contact information, cigarettes, lighter, money, the Nexus pamphlet... gun... Yeah, he’s good.
“I guess I'll see you soon then?” That scared puppy look that’s been periodically flickering across his face is threatening to come back – but it won’t.
He’s cool. This is all fine.
no subject
She may not be the best judge of character, but she's excellent at telling when someone could use a friend, and the look she gives him is warm and reassuring. "Yes, of course. Let me know how you're doing." She'll worry if he doesn't -- although a lot less, now that he isn't covered in his own blood. She gives him another once-over and smiles to herself, glad to have accomplished that much.
"It was nice to meet you, Freddy. Stay safe, okay? And thanks for the pie."
no subject
no subject
I recently updated Adia's canon -- I don't know how familiar you are with BSG, but I hit a major plot point in the final season that's rather depressing. So you have your choice of Adia before the sad thing or after the sad thing. She'll be chill either way.))
no subject
If you'd like to RP Adia after her sad canon update, I am fine with that. One day they should still hang out when neither of them is in despair though, aww.]]