fic: Jack, starring Reed, Tad and Smith, PG (2o2)
Title: First day on the job part 2
Pairing: None; hints of Reed/Smith, Tad
Rating: PG; some blood
Words: ~4300
Summary: This is part of the world I put some of my random characters in when I'm feeling winsome. Take this as an introduction of sorts, to the business Jack, where nothing is free but you can get anything if the price is right.
“So, Mr. Boulton,” he began. “Welcome to our building. So very good to see you here. You may call me Mr. Smith.”
“Got a first name?” Tad asked, wondering why he was making an attempt to be a smartass and concluding that he felt like he was on the defense.
“No,” Smith answered, not even missing a beat. “I would actually like to start this off with a simple question. Mr. Boulton, why are you here?”
Tad frowned a little, put off with this line of questioning. “Well, Mr. Smith, you’re the one who sent me the letter and asked me to come.”
“If I responded to every piece of mail that asked me to do something, I would have upwards of three hundred credit cards,” Mr. Smith pointed out. “So you had some reason to show up. Why are you, Tad Boulton, standing here in my office?”
Tad shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Well, uh… I guess it’s because… I’m kinda between jobs. And this week I have enough money to either make rent or get my mom her meds, so… I mean, she really needs them.”
“And you came here?”
“You pretty much offered me a job. I’m guessing it’s a paid position, that is. And…” Tad began to self-consciously try and tame his hair, which seemed in a perpetual state of bedhead. “You said I could stop hiding. I don’t really believe you. But it would be… nice.”
“I would start believing it,” Mr. Smith suggested. “No, you don’t have to hide. You’ll find that most people here have secrets, some bigger than your’s. Outside of these walls, I wouldn’t suggest changing your typical lifestyle. But while you work here…” One graceful-looking hand waved in an expansive gesture. “Feel free to remove the sunglasses, at least.” Something in his tone indicated Mr. Smith meant sooner, rather than later.
Tad hesitated, fingers working in midair. His gaze slipped to Reed, an invisible motion behind the dark shades. Reed looked interested, but not intensely so. Tad made a quick decision and raised his hand to the glasses, pulling them off, and opening his eyes. He focused on Smith immediately to take in his reaction.
To his credit, Mr. Smith didn’t even blink, just looked at the dark eyes that looked back at him, completely black, like the pupils began expanding and never stopped. Reed’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Tad would usually be waiting for the usual frenzied questions, but he had no idea what to expect from this place anymore. He was so close to thinking that Smith was going to walk off to the corner and offer him tea and biscuits.
Instead, the man was looking back at his notes. “We found you through the hospital you went to as a child,” he said, flipping over a page. “It says that the schlera of your entire eye is pigmented. Yes?”
“…well. That’s their theory.” Tad shrugged. “They could never get a good sample.” He wasn’t expecting a reaction from Reed, and he didn’t get one. There were gentler ways to get tissue samples from an eye other than cutting directly into it. The doctors had never tried those ways. Reed wouldn’t know that.
“You’re not blind, that’s all that really matters,” Smith muttered. “The doctor’s notes are confusing, but I gained the rest through other sources. You cannot be harmed, yes?”
Tad rocked back on his heels a little, uncomfortable with the question. “Er, no,” he said, tone flat. “If anything breaks the skin, it just closes up.” He continued on, knowing Smith was just confirming all that was in his charts, deciding to cut to the chase. “In the dark, my eyes glow. All the blood or tissue samples the doctors got from me were never reliable, morphing into random substances. My height isn’t constant. Painkillers or drugs don’t work on me. I can’t get X-rays taken of me, or MRI’s, or any sort of imaging anything… all the scans come up horribly distorted. And I never get hurt.”
“And sometimes you suffer debilitating headaches.” Tad froze up a little at the interruption, staring at Smith. The doctors, the government had never known that. They hadn’t even started until after he had turned ten, and by that time he and his mother had disappeared off the map to get a new life away from tests and suspicion. He hadn’t even told his mother about them. “And the only way to get rid of them is either with time, sleeping under the stars, and sometimes endorphins help. So you go jogging, most often.” Smith flipped a page, looking unconcerned that he was in possession of knowledge Tad was pretty sure he couldn’t have. “You also feel a general disconnection with the human race, but occasionally skylight as a vigilante. You have had dreams about faceless black forms speaking in a language you could understand in the dream, but upon awakening the meaning was lost. You-”
“You need to explain what this is about, and now,” Tad interjected. He was surprised at how light his voice sounded, almost shaky. This wasn’t common knowledge. This wasn’t even limited knowledge. Tucker honestly couldn’t remember telling anybody about his dreams.
Smith closed the file once more, this time studying Tad at length. Finally, he spoke. “This building houses a business that is sort of… a modern-day Jack-of-all-trades. We do everything for anybody… within limitations, of course. And for a price. We operate outside of the system. And if we weren’t such an important part of the foundation of reality, the system would try to eliminate us. We have proved useful to people from the whole spectrum of life, and some of those people are very disreputable.” Smith steepled his hands in front of his face, pursing his lips a little. “Sometimes the things we do are dangerous. Obviously, your services would be useful. In return, you can be honest with your true nature while here and on missions, and…” Smith wrote a number on a pad of Post-Its and slid it across the desk. “Your salary.”
Tad inched forward hesitantly, like it would bite him, and snatched up the paper. He raised his eyebrows at the figure. Quite a good sum for a glorified meatshield… Tad wasn’t stupid. With his abilities to heal, that’s what he would be good for. It wouldn’t make him rich, but Tad could make rent. And eat. That was a novel concept lately. But…
“I know you like helping people,” Smith added, breaking the silence almost explosively. “We might do bad things sometimes, but we as a company have a moral code of sorts. You could also travel to different countries-we have a branch everywhere, in every major city. And…” He regarded Tad closely. “I know you’re probably curious as to what you are. We have state-of-the-art labs. We could look into that for you, as an employee.”
Mr. Smith stood, sliding from behind his desk to stand by Tad, turning him around and beginning to lead him from the building. “Please, sleep on it,” he said as he began to lead Tad back to his door. “It’s a lot to absorb, but that is what we are offering you. If this is what you want, let us know, but if not, it would behoove you to not tell anyone. We would be forced to take action. So-”
“I’m in.”
Reed looked surprised at the sudden answer, but Smith did not. “I’m running out of money; I was about a day away from mugging some random person on the street,” Tad continued. “I think you might be making a mistake in hiring me because of that, but if you’ll have me and if I can get an advance on my paycheck so I have a place to live this week… Sure. Those are my conditions.”
Mr. Smith’s lips twitched with something like a smile. “I was preparing a sizeable bonus for accepting the offer,” he informed him. “As a goodwill gesture.” He moved slightly, Reed taking his cue to go stand next to him. “Mr. Saunders is our resident doctor,” Mr. Smith told Tad. “He will be showing you your locker, debriefing you today, and performing a physical as best as we can.” He stepped back some, an actual smile on his lips now, offering a hand to seal the deal.
Obviously, before Tad could accept it, there had to be some sort of dramatic interruption. A small box beeping on Mr. Smith’s desk wasn’t what Tad was expecting, but everybody in the office looked at it before Smith smiled. “Your first mission, Mr. Boulton?” Smith demurred. “I just had these windows installed. Make sure they don’t get broken. You will be working with Mr. Saunders.”
Of course his first mission would be phrased with some kinda cryptic bullshit. Tad growled, but Reed was already facing the door. There was a rumbling in front of them, and suddenly the door flung open. A small cloud of dust floated into the room. Tad managed to catch the fact that a ceiling tile rested on the ground behind the odd black-clad assassin before said black-clad assassin bolted into the room, guns raised.
Tad, out of instinct, reached out to shove Mr. Smith behind himself. Reed, in the meantime, stepped forward, arm outstretched towards the attacker. The guns blasted, the world slowing down. There was a blue flash from around Reed’s wrist, a bracelet Tad hadn’t noticed before falling blackened to the ground, landing besides two bullets.
Then Reed raised his other arm and there was a wall of fire rolling towards the figure.
Tad didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the first thing that came to his hand, which was Mr. Smith’s phone unfortunately, and flung it at the ninja-thing. As the guy moved to get away from the fire, the heavy handset beaned him on a temple. His movements were slowed and the fire caught one arm. Whatever fire did not manage to snag the attacker winked out of existence like it had never been there to begin with. The attacker flailed, but tried to raise his gun, to possibly shoot wildly.
Tad felt a heavy weight on his shoulder, saw the handgun out of the corner of his eye, and was rendered temporarily deaf by the expectant roar and flash. By the time he had recovered, he saw Reed pronouncing the man dead, a single hole in his head neatly leaking blood while the wall behind him was sprayed. Mr. Smith stood beside him, reloading his gun and looking bored. Something like a cleanup crew came, although the man looked disgusted and nudged the body with his oversized foot.
Something in his body language must have been dismissive, since Reed turned and began to hustle Tad out the door. Before the door shut, Mr. Smith stopped them. “Oh, and Mr. Boulton?” he called out, that predatory grin returning as Tad turned around. “Welcome to Jack. We never make mistakes."
~*~
“Okay, let’s get you set up.”
Tad followed Reed out of the office, a little dazed at it all. “So… Dr. Saunders?” he asked. One question at a time.
“Ha, I wouldn’t call me that in front of an actual doctor,” Reed snorted, turning down a narrow hallway, thankfully avoiding the cubicles. “I have a BS in biology. I had a few connections, and ended up here. Since I had the background and the interest, I got a crash course in medicine. Lasted a year, so I don’t have the license, but trust me, I have the knowledge. And yeah, it’s as hard to learn it all in a year as you think. I’m still sore.”
Tad just stared, with Reed grinning a response. “Why aren’t you suddenly the talkative one,” Reed said, opening the door to the lab. “Anyway, now I’m mostly helping out with lab procedures unless there’s an injury. Sometimes I go on missions, but mostly I’m here. Can’t go on missions too much, I think. I’ve got too much of a temper.” He pointed to a table. “Sit, please.”
Reed threw on a white medical coat and went to work. It was like when he was younger, the baffled look on Reed’s face… but this time, there was a whole lot of amusement, as well. Reed tested Tad’s nerves by tapping on his knee and got a muscle twitch in the arm, or leg, or sometimes it worked but not really. An attempt to draw blood on one arm got nothing, where an attempt on the other arm got first blackish, oily liquid that was probably just a lump of proteins, and with another attempt something that could pass for blood visually. Shining a light into Tad’s eyes got no effect other than some murmuring from Reed. Heartbeat, stomach palpitations, checking in the ears… everything was fine externally.
Internally, it was like nothing solid was actually there.
Finally, Reed drew back with a sigh. “I’d like to see your healing powers in action,” he lamented, “but-”
Without waiting for him to finish that sentence, Tad picked up a pen and stabbed his hand.
Reed yelled and dropped his clipboard. Tad could understand why, but with just the barest of winces he drew the pen out. What was left behind was a black hole, open through the hand for just a moment before it began to close up, drawing in strings of black that hung briefly on the pen before snapping to the hand. The black faded to white, the color of his skin, as Reed stared.
“…what the hell?” Reed snapped, upset. Tad looked up, surprised. “You can’t just go around doing shit like that. You freaked me out. Don’t hurt yourself like that.”
Tad shook his head. “It… doesn’t hurt. I mean, sort of, in a distant way. But not really. Like a dead spot on the nerves.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Reed said, although he had calmed down. “You don’t need to do that kind of stuff around here, okay? We won’t ask it of you. I mean, unless you can’t avoid it you shouldn’t even have to use that kind of thing. That shouldn’t be a problem; Smith was talking about your quick thinking, so-”
“…I thought my whole point here was to use my ability,” Tad interrupted, confused. “You guys do dangerous missions. I thought…” He trailed off, wondering what the hell was up.
Reed gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re dumb a little. No, you won’t be our resident meatshield. When we were discussing you, Smith kept going on how you got out of bad situations before, and barely mentioned your healing power in the briefing. You were a superhero of sorts, right?”
Tad grimaced. “Ugh, please. I… wore a ski mask and… ran around alleys interfering in muggings, I mean… that’s a pretty lame superhero.”
There was just the faintest of smiles on Reed’s face as he shrugged again. “Sure. And back in the room, you acted on your feet, helped me out. Smith used you as a rest because you weren’t shaking, weren’t flipping out-just waiting for the next move. My point is, the boss doesn’t plan on relying on just the fact that we’re pretty sure you can’t die. The thing is…”
Reed looked at his bag, not really seeing it as he snapped it shut. “He doesn’t like to see anybody get hurt. Not even if it’s not real pain. So stay out of trouble.”
“Why did Smith choose you?” Tad blurted out. Reed cocked an eyebrow at him, so he hastened to explain. “Because… you’re smart. Is it cuz…?”
Reed smiled. Tad would be hard-pressed to find it comforting. “Yeah. We can just say I like fire.”
In a bit of a daze, Tad allowed himself to be led from the building, saying a faint goodbye to the doorman and wandering off down the street. When he got home, he’d discover that rent was paid and a sizeable check was in his account.
Then he sat on the bed and rested his forehead on his hands. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” he wondered aloud, tone a mixture of intense curiosity and… well, it had been a while, but Tad could almost say with certainty that the dry, bitter taste in the back of his mouth was… fear.
Well. This was certainly going to be interesting.