Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 5/19
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Part Five
Jensen shuffled as far as he dared on elbows and knees. The sounds and smells of battle drifted to him on a smoky and cordite-tinged breeze, and the debris of the gunship breached the outer enclosure. It smoldered in scattered pieces at the edge of the ranch. The security detail had fallen back to the ranch itself and was defending the building with vigor.
It was an enthusiastic, but disorganized force that overran the area between the gate and the ranch. Civilians grew bold and joined the attack with makeshift weapons and hunting rifles. It was close to being a mob, and that was never going to be pretty. Jensen touched his collar self-consciously. He had no way to quickly remove the visible symbol of allegiance to the President. He didn't anticipate the rag-tag revolutionaries getting through the President's defenses, but it certainly made him cautious, and put a new spin on his mission. When the riot was through, there would be temporary weaknesses and heightened awareness.
Once, the President would have come to the people himself, addressed the crowd and soothed them. Once, Jensen, no, Ross, had been proud to serve him.
Padalecki had been a man of the unions, and the figurehead for the ordinary citizens. He had risen to power rapidly, in a void created by scandals in the ruling classes and banking sectors. When established politicians fled the country, from charges of conspiracy and fraud, the people elected his grassroots party to govern them. It hadn't taken long for Padalecki's popularity to fade. It became apparent that the task of rebuilding the country was too complex for a simple man. The stifling tendrils of organized crime poisoned all sectors of society, and Padalecki’s aides were leeches, who circled him for opportunities of power and wealth. Paranoia, and his fear that the country would go to the polls, only to return to weighted feudalism, fueled a downward spiral in the man, and elections were canceled. Jensen saw a sad and dangerous dictator, who trusted nobody, and wallowed in the very traits he abhorred when he started his political quest.
He wondered when it had all changed for Jared, or if he even acknowledged his father's demise. He thought the boy didn't see it because he didn't want to. Jared flip-flopped between disgust with his father, and memories of a better time. He was a seriously messed-up kid, the perfect poster-child for his Pa's nation.
Jensen watched intently, like a big-cat waiting for a straggler to become detached from the herd. With a crowd like this, curiosity for what lay through the trees was inevitable. There would be aspiring looters, unwilling to share their booty. It made them easy to pick off. In the end, it was a middle-aged man, who smelled of cigarettes and alcohol and greed. Jensen ended him with one hand, before he could even beg for his pathetic life. He picked through the man's belongings, looking for his prize, and when his fingers clutched a cell phone, he grinned. Local reception was good, and it had a full battery.
Danni screeched unprofessionally when he gave his password. “What the fuck, Ross? You were supposed to find me a door into their IT from the main network, not some mouse hole to one side. Lucky for you, I'm a genius. Now, you're starting the party without us? Misha wants to smack you upside your head, and I'm not repeating the names JD has been using."
“Danni. I'm improvising the best I can. Let me speak to the boss.”
JD seemed unruffled, “What the hell sort of unsecure cell is this?”
“The only one I could get my hands on.”
“Where have you been? Not seen you with the target.”
Jensen winced. He knew he'd screwed up that part of his job, “What can I say? I'm not his favorite.”
“Not even going to ask you the obvious. You're alive. Tell me if it's on.”
“Give it a twenty four hour window after everything settles. I'm in place. The signal stands.”
“If you're sure?”
“I am.” Jensen’s finger hovered over the power button.
“Misha says to take care,” JD spoke gruffly.
Jensen smiled. He knew it was JD's way of showing concern, “Later.”
When Jensen returned, Jared was still sleeping. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, his feet poked out from the throw, and his hair trailed soft and shiny over the cushioned roll of the end of the sofa. 'Sexy daddy'. Jensen's skin crawled with the uncomfortable memory of Jared's giggly use of the affectation. He closed his eyes, but past voices and faces wouldn't be shaken off so easily. He breathed deep, and pushed the memories back into the black corners of his mind. This was a different situation. He was different from them. If there was a fleeting moment in which Jensen thought his intentions were worse, then he didn't acknowledge it.
He took some time to investigate the bunker. It was the size of a large apartment. The guard room, by the door held the defunct comms, desk space, and two bunks. Jared slept on the sofa in a large, central, rest area, with armchairs, full bookshelves and small tables. From that, the kitchenette, two bathrooms and three bedrooms could be accessed. Two large and basic bunk-filled rooms were presumably meant to house government officials and family. The third room was smaller, but lavishly furnished, with a huge comfortable bed, a leather topped desk and a tiny cupboard-like space, housing a toilet and basin.
He noted that even in the reduced circumstances, there were steel rings for slaves to be leashed. What there wasn't - was an alternative exit. The walls and ceiling were solid steel, probably lead lined, and the bunker was almost certainly under the lake. When it came time to leave, there was only one way out. He hoped he hadn't misjudged the strength of the President's defenses.
Jared's mouth was dry and woolly, and his head ached. He opened stinging eyes to the interior of the bunker and groaned. He was hoping it was all a bad dream.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Take it easy. Here.” Jensen passed him a glass of water. “Boiled it earlier,” he explained.
Jared flexed and stretched. Jensen sat on the sofa with him, and his feet still rested on the slave's firm thighs. It was as if Jensen hadn't moved while Jared was asleep, but the water he offered proved otherwise. He yawned, “How long was I out?”
“About four hours. Sorry, you were freaking out. I thought it was for the best but it wasn't supposed to knock you out entirely.”
Jared sipped the water and sat up cautiously, “What now?”
“We appear to be all out of instructions on what to do when the compound is under attack and we're alone in a bunker. There is a very nice recipe booklet for chocolate cake, and a fishing almanac.” Jensen's snide comment was both funny and frightening, “Tell me you had drills for this kind of thing, Jared? Or, that your father at least talked to you about it?”
Jared massaged a crick from his neck, “He didn't talk to me about anything, but you seemed to know what to do.” He realized that Jensen still hadn't told him why that was.
Jensen's reply was laced with sadness and frustration, “What do you think happens to the good folk every time there is a spat between the warlords and criminals, the government and the revolutionaries? Do you think that they are safe from the madness while it rages around them? The only thing ordinary people can do is hide until it is over, and hope that nobody makes them a witness or scapegoat. If their home, business and family remain when they emerge, then they count it as a victory. The ordinary folk are good at running and hiding. I was good at it.”
“I never got to see much, since I came back.”
“I guessed,” Jensen's hand was on his knee again. It was solid and warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you think he has even missed me? Nobody has come for me. I thought he would send somebody.” Jared let his doubts tumble out. He longed for his mother to hold him tight and reassure him. Sometimes, he didn't feel very grown up. Jensen seemed to understand him. He didn't tell him to grow up, or get a pair. Jensen listened, and he explained things without derision. Jared wanted to fall into his safety.
“I think this was all very sudden. Maybe they can't get to you, or maybe it is safer not to draw attention to your presence. I think that Corporal Hodge would come, if he could. He seems fond of you.”
“You mean Pa doesn't seem fond of me?”
Jensen grimaced, “I didn't say that.”
“You're not allowed to say that.” Jared pulled the throw over himself like a shield, “But I wish you would be honest. The first time we met, you said what you thought.” Even Jared could tell he sounded like a spoiled kid.
“And look where that got me! Besides, I don't think it's me who needs to be honest. I think you're sick of lying to yourself.”
Jared opened and closed his mouth in shock. Jensen's shot had been straight and true. Jared knew he'd made bad choices, and his regrets festered like an open wound.
“I'm sorry.” It came out as a broken whisper.
Jensen leaned over him with a bright eyed and curious gaze. “What for?”
He traced the letters on Jensen's cheek, “What I did to you. It was childish. I wanted Pa to notice me, and acknowledge that I would stand up for him. I wanted him to see that I wasn't a child any more, and all I proved was the opposite. I took the anger that I had with Pa, out on you.” Jared curled himself small, “When I came here, I thought it would be fun having money, hot girls and boys who wanted to date the President's son, slaves to pick up after me, an assured college place. I'm a teenager. Who doesn't want all that?” Jared couldn't help the self pitying whine that came with his speech, “I didn't think about why Ma left Pa and this whole country behind. I didn't think the awful things the news shows said about Pa could be true.”
“And now?” Jensen encouraged him gently.
“I don't want to die. I don't want Pa to die, and I don't want you to die. Pa's not the bad person everyone thinks he is, even if he isn't like you.” Jared tried to hold back the tears that filled his eyes, but a single one rolled down his cheek. “But, you're better than him, and I shouldn't think that way, and I don't know what to do.”
“Slaves are people. You do know that, right?” Jensen didn't sound pissed, but there was no sympathy in his reaction.
“I do know. I used to be angry about it. When I was young, Pa ranted about slavery, how he was going to end it. It made me mad when he didn't. Then I grew up and hit reality. Reality is about economics and choice. This country is struggling to feed itself, and the rare legal exports are from factories and businesses which compete in the world market by using slaves. At least slaves have food and shelter. Slavery is a choice in this country. You chose it, and if you hadn't, then the outcome could have been worse. A baby could have lost her mother, because the alternative would have been to let the loan sharks and crime-lords collect in their own way. Without the option for a legal, fair system to sell yourself into slavery then there is only the illegal slide into pseudo-slavery, working as a mule or whore for the likes of Quintas and ending up dead in the gutter.”
“Wow. But you and your father, and his friends never went short. You ate nine courses and drank the wine without a thought of sharing it. You do know how many of your father's slaves and soldiers end up dead in the gutter, don't you? How about Fin, Jared? How much choice did he get? What choices did you give him?”
Jared swallowed hard and he ground his teeth, his first reaction was anger, but he was no longer sure who he was angry with.
Jensen stood up, “I shouldn't get into this with you. I'm going for a walk.”
Jared tilted his head in confusion.
“To the kitchen,” clarified Jensen, “If you value your pretty face, don't follow me.”
Jared reached into his pocket and then recalled that the shock controller wasn't there.
Jensen nodded knowingly. “You said you wanted the truth, you got it. The shock control is in the guard room. I was hoping you would demonstrate some common decency.”
I'm a dick. Jared decided. He watched Jensen disappear around the corner and fell back into the firm leather of the couch. His head was aching with a pounding rhythm that matched his heart. It took a moment to remember why he felt like he did. Jensen drugged him. He thought that maybe Jensen was kind of a dick too. It was disturbing that his mind supplied the idea that it made Jensen just a little more perfect for him.
Part six
Part Five
Jensen shuffled as far as he dared on elbows and knees. The sounds and smells of battle drifted to him on a smoky and cordite-tinged breeze, and the debris of the gunship breached the outer enclosure. It smoldered in scattered pieces at the edge of the ranch. The security detail had fallen back to the ranch itself and was defending the building with vigor.
It was an enthusiastic, but disorganized force that overran the area between the gate and the ranch. Civilians grew bold and joined the attack with makeshift weapons and hunting rifles. It was close to being a mob, and that was never going to be pretty. Jensen touched his collar self-consciously. He had no way to quickly remove the visible symbol of allegiance to the President. He didn't anticipate the rag-tag revolutionaries getting through the President's defenses, but it certainly made him cautious, and put a new spin on his mission. When the riot was through, there would be temporary weaknesses and heightened awareness.
Once, the President would have come to the people himself, addressed the crowd and soothed them. Once, Jensen, no, Ross, had been proud to serve him.
Padalecki had been a man of the unions, and the figurehead for the ordinary citizens. He had risen to power rapidly, in a void created by scandals in the ruling classes and banking sectors. When established politicians fled the country, from charges of conspiracy and fraud, the people elected his grassroots party to govern them. It hadn't taken long for Padalecki's popularity to fade. It became apparent that the task of rebuilding the country was too complex for a simple man. The stifling tendrils of organized crime poisoned all sectors of society, and Padalecki’s aides were leeches, who circled him for opportunities of power and wealth. Paranoia, and his fear that the country would go to the polls, only to return to weighted feudalism, fueled a downward spiral in the man, and elections were canceled. Jensen saw a sad and dangerous dictator, who trusted nobody, and wallowed in the very traits he abhorred when he started his political quest.
He wondered when it had all changed for Jared, or if he even acknowledged his father's demise. He thought the boy didn't see it because he didn't want to. Jared flip-flopped between disgust with his father, and memories of a better time. He was a seriously messed-up kid, the perfect poster-child for his Pa's nation.
Jensen watched intently, like a big-cat waiting for a straggler to become detached from the herd. With a crowd like this, curiosity for what lay through the trees was inevitable. There would be aspiring looters, unwilling to share their booty. It made them easy to pick off. In the end, it was a middle-aged man, who smelled of cigarettes and alcohol and greed. Jensen ended him with one hand, before he could even beg for his pathetic life. He picked through the man's belongings, looking for his prize, and when his fingers clutched a cell phone, he grinned. Local reception was good, and it had a full battery.
Danni screeched unprofessionally when he gave his password. “What the fuck, Ross? You were supposed to find me a door into their IT from the main network, not some mouse hole to one side. Lucky for you, I'm a genius. Now, you're starting the party without us? Misha wants to smack you upside your head, and I'm not repeating the names JD has been using."
“Danni. I'm improvising the best I can. Let me speak to the boss.”
JD seemed unruffled, “What the hell sort of unsecure cell is this?”
“The only one I could get my hands on.”
“Where have you been? Not seen you with the target.”
Jensen winced. He knew he'd screwed up that part of his job, “What can I say? I'm not his favorite.”
“Not even going to ask you the obvious. You're alive. Tell me if it's on.”
“Give it a twenty four hour window after everything settles. I'm in place. The signal stands.”
“If you're sure?”
“I am.” Jensen’s finger hovered over the power button.
“Misha says to take care,” JD spoke gruffly.
Jensen smiled. He knew it was JD's way of showing concern, “Later.”
When Jensen returned, Jared was still sleeping. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, his feet poked out from the throw, and his hair trailed soft and shiny over the cushioned roll of the end of the sofa. 'Sexy daddy'. Jensen's skin crawled with the uncomfortable memory of Jared's giggly use of the affectation. He closed his eyes, but past voices and faces wouldn't be shaken off so easily. He breathed deep, and pushed the memories back into the black corners of his mind. This was a different situation. He was different from them. If there was a fleeting moment in which Jensen thought his intentions were worse, then he didn't acknowledge it.
He took some time to investigate the bunker. It was the size of a large apartment. The guard room, by the door held the defunct comms, desk space, and two bunks. Jared slept on the sofa in a large, central, rest area, with armchairs, full bookshelves and small tables. From that, the kitchenette, two bathrooms and three bedrooms could be accessed. Two large and basic bunk-filled rooms were presumably meant to house government officials and family. The third room was smaller, but lavishly furnished, with a huge comfortable bed, a leather topped desk and a tiny cupboard-like space, housing a toilet and basin.
He noted that even in the reduced circumstances, there were steel rings for slaves to be leashed. What there wasn't - was an alternative exit. The walls and ceiling were solid steel, probably lead lined, and the bunker was almost certainly under the lake. When it came time to leave, there was only one way out. He hoped he hadn't misjudged the strength of the President's defenses.
Jared's mouth was dry and woolly, and his head ached. He opened stinging eyes to the interior of the bunker and groaned. He was hoping it was all a bad dream.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Take it easy. Here.” Jensen passed him a glass of water. “Boiled it earlier,” he explained.
Jared flexed and stretched. Jensen sat on the sofa with him, and his feet still rested on the slave's firm thighs. It was as if Jensen hadn't moved while Jared was asleep, but the water he offered proved otherwise. He yawned, “How long was I out?”
“About four hours. Sorry, you were freaking out. I thought it was for the best but it wasn't supposed to knock you out entirely.”
Jared sipped the water and sat up cautiously, “What now?”
“We appear to be all out of instructions on what to do when the compound is under attack and we're alone in a bunker. There is a very nice recipe booklet for chocolate cake, and a fishing almanac.” Jensen's snide comment was both funny and frightening, “Tell me you had drills for this kind of thing, Jared? Or, that your father at least talked to you about it?”
Jared massaged a crick from his neck, “He didn't talk to me about anything, but you seemed to know what to do.” He realized that Jensen still hadn't told him why that was.
Jensen's reply was laced with sadness and frustration, “What do you think happens to the good folk every time there is a spat between the warlords and criminals, the government and the revolutionaries? Do you think that they are safe from the madness while it rages around them? The only thing ordinary people can do is hide until it is over, and hope that nobody makes them a witness or scapegoat. If their home, business and family remain when they emerge, then they count it as a victory. The ordinary folk are good at running and hiding. I was good at it.”
“I never got to see much, since I came back.”
“I guessed,” Jensen's hand was on his knee again. It was solid and warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you think he has even missed me? Nobody has come for me. I thought he would send somebody.” Jared let his doubts tumble out. He longed for his mother to hold him tight and reassure him. Sometimes, he didn't feel very grown up. Jensen seemed to understand him. He didn't tell him to grow up, or get a pair. Jensen listened, and he explained things without derision. Jared wanted to fall into his safety.
“I think this was all very sudden. Maybe they can't get to you, or maybe it is safer not to draw attention to your presence. I think that Corporal Hodge would come, if he could. He seems fond of you.”
“You mean Pa doesn't seem fond of me?”
Jensen grimaced, “I didn't say that.”
“You're not allowed to say that.” Jared pulled the throw over himself like a shield, “But I wish you would be honest. The first time we met, you said what you thought.” Even Jared could tell he sounded like a spoiled kid.
“And look where that got me! Besides, I don't think it's me who needs to be honest. I think you're sick of lying to yourself.”
Jared opened and closed his mouth in shock. Jensen's shot had been straight and true. Jared knew he'd made bad choices, and his regrets festered like an open wound.
“I'm sorry.” It came out as a broken whisper.
Jensen leaned over him with a bright eyed and curious gaze. “What for?”
He traced the letters on Jensen's cheek, “What I did to you. It was childish. I wanted Pa to notice me, and acknowledge that I would stand up for him. I wanted him to see that I wasn't a child any more, and all I proved was the opposite. I took the anger that I had with Pa, out on you.” Jared curled himself small, “When I came here, I thought it would be fun having money, hot girls and boys who wanted to date the President's son, slaves to pick up after me, an assured college place. I'm a teenager. Who doesn't want all that?” Jared couldn't help the self pitying whine that came with his speech, “I didn't think about why Ma left Pa and this whole country behind. I didn't think the awful things the news shows said about Pa could be true.”
“And now?” Jensen encouraged him gently.
“I don't want to die. I don't want Pa to die, and I don't want you to die. Pa's not the bad person everyone thinks he is, even if he isn't like you.” Jared tried to hold back the tears that filled his eyes, but a single one rolled down his cheek. “But, you're better than him, and I shouldn't think that way, and I don't know what to do.”
“Slaves are people. You do know that, right?” Jensen didn't sound pissed, but there was no sympathy in his reaction.
“I do know. I used to be angry about it. When I was young, Pa ranted about slavery, how he was going to end it. It made me mad when he didn't. Then I grew up and hit reality. Reality is about economics and choice. This country is struggling to feed itself, and the rare legal exports are from factories and businesses which compete in the world market by using slaves. At least slaves have food and shelter. Slavery is a choice in this country. You chose it, and if you hadn't, then the outcome could have been worse. A baby could have lost her mother, because the alternative would have been to let the loan sharks and crime-lords collect in their own way. Without the option for a legal, fair system to sell yourself into slavery then there is only the illegal slide into pseudo-slavery, working as a mule or whore for the likes of Quintas and ending up dead in the gutter.”
“Wow. But you and your father, and his friends never went short. You ate nine courses and drank the wine without a thought of sharing it. You do know how many of your father's slaves and soldiers end up dead in the gutter, don't you? How about Fin, Jared? How much choice did he get? What choices did you give him?”
Jared swallowed hard and he ground his teeth, his first reaction was anger, but he was no longer sure who he was angry with.
Jensen stood up, “I shouldn't get into this with you. I'm going for a walk.”
Jared tilted his head in confusion.
“To the kitchen,” clarified Jensen, “If you value your pretty face, don't follow me.”
Jared reached into his pocket and then recalled that the shock controller wasn't there.
Jensen nodded knowingly. “You said you wanted the truth, you got it. The shock control is in the guard room. I was hoping you would demonstrate some common decency.”
I'm a dick. Jared decided. He watched Jensen disappear around the corner and fell back into the firm leather of the couch. His head was aching with a pounding rhythm that matched his heart. It took a moment to remember why he felt like he did. Jensen drugged him. He thought that maybe Jensen was kind of a dick too. It was disturbing that his mind supplied the idea that it made Jensen just a little more perfect for him.
Part six