Radio Free Mutant Town part 3: Why Don't You Get a Job
Title: Radio Free Mutant Town part 3: Why Don’t You Get A Job
Fandom: X-men
Characters: Jonothon Starsmore, Angelo “Fuck YOU Chuck Austen” Espinosa, Jubilation Lee
Prompt: 26. Determined
Word Count: 786
Rating: PG
Summary: Our Heroes go job hunting.
Author's Notes: Still very much an AU, folks.
The job applications were spread out across the bare floor, and the thee mutants looked down at them.
“We so need a table,” Jubilee announced.
“We blew all our money on the deposit,” Angelo sighed.
Wonder how many of these are ‘No Mutants Need Apply’ Jono said, picking up an application for Waldenbooks.
“I managed to find a job back in LA,” Angelo pointed out. “I can find one here.”
Well, you two work on that, Jono said, grabbing his guitar. I’m gonna hit the subway circuit. Jubes, you’re on Food Bank duty. Good luck.
***
Jubilee moaned softly and slid her feet out of her shoes as she sat on the curb. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed like this had been easier back in LA. She allowed herself to sit for a few moments, and nearly got run over by a bike messenger for her trouble. She swore, scrambling to her feet.
The bike messenger turned abruptly into a nearby garage, with Jubilee pelting after him, determined to give the man a piece of her mind and probably a few paffs for good measure. She was brought up short by the Help Wanted sign taped to the wall just outside.
“I could do that,” Jubilee murmured to herself.
She stepped into the dimly lit garage, looking for someone who looked like they might be in charge. She saw the bike guy who had almost run over leaning against a counter, behind which were stacked parcels awaiting delivery and another man. The man behind the counter was talking in a low, annoyed tone, and Bike Guy was making apologetic noises. The man behind the counter ran his claws lightly across the heavily scratched counter, his scales catching the faint light and flashing dark red.
Jubilee cleared her throat. “Um, hello?”
The two men looked at her. “Yes?” the man being the counter said.
“About the sign up front-”
The man behind the counter slumped a little, having realized that Jubilee was not a customer. “You got a bike?”
“No, but-”
“Speedster?”
“No, but I-”
“You a telepath?”
“No, but-”
“Can you read, answer phones, talk?”
“Duh.”
“Great. You think you can handle dispatch until I can find a telepath?”
“Buy yourself a bike and then I can give you a trial run as a messenger. But what I need is another pair of hands here. Take it or leave it.”
“Taking it! Taking it!” Jubilee said quickly.
The man smirked, his lizard like tail thumping the floor.
***
Jono waited until the transit cop was out of sight and earshot before dropping the general ‘Don’t Look At Me’ compulsion he’d had to adopt on and off all day. Damn busker’s license. God willing, he’d be able to get enough to buy one tomorrow.
He eyed the take currently sitting in the guitar case.
Maybe he could get one in a couple of days.
He plucked out the opening chords to an old Herman’s Hermits tune as a fifty dropping into the guitar case like manna from Heaven. He looked up sharply. I don’t give change.
“I’m not expecting it,” the young woman said, digging her hands into her black, well worn jeans. Her tee-shirt was the same kind of black - old, a little worn, and fading towards grey. She flashed him a nicotine stained smile and spoke in a voice that recalled pea-soup fogs, proper beer, and Silk Cut cigarettes.
She didn’t look like the kind of girl who had fifties to throw around. One of her tennis shoes had found religion, and he could see her sock through the hole.
I’m not a dealer, either.
“I don’t do anything stronger than my fags. But I’m thinking of switching to heroin. It’d be cheaper.” She grinned, pulling out a business card. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a face for radio?” she asked, dropping the card on top of the fifty.
***
“At least,” Angelo said, holding up his apron, “it’s not a silly paper hat. And all the leftovers I can carry.”
“I could be a bike messenger,” Jubilee insisted. “I could be a great bike messenger.”
“Of course you could,” Angelo reassured her. “You’re the fastest thing on wheels. Isn’t she, Jono.”
Jono looked up from the business card he’d been brooding over. Yeah. Sure.
Fandom: X-men
Characters: Jonothon Starsmore, Angelo “Fuck YOU Chuck Austen” Espinosa, Jubilation Lee
Prompt: 26. Determined
Word Count: 786
Rating: PG
Summary: Our Heroes go job hunting.
Author's Notes: Still very much an AU, folks.
The job applications were spread out across the bare floor, and the thee mutants looked down at them.
“We so need a table,” Jubilee announced.
“We blew all our money on the deposit,” Angelo sighed.
Wonder how many of these are ‘No Mutants Need Apply’ Jono said, picking up an application for Waldenbooks.
“I managed to find a job back in LA,” Angelo pointed out. “I can find one here.”
Well, you two work on that, Jono said, grabbing his guitar. I’m gonna hit the subway circuit. Jubes, you’re on Food Bank duty. Good luck.
***
Jubilee moaned softly and slid her feet out of her shoes as she sat on the curb. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed like this had been easier back in LA. She allowed herself to sit for a few moments, and nearly got run over by a bike messenger for her trouble. She swore, scrambling to her feet.
The bike messenger turned abruptly into a nearby garage, with Jubilee pelting after him, determined to give the man a piece of her mind and probably a few paffs for good measure. She was brought up short by the Help Wanted sign taped to the wall just outside.
“I could do that,” Jubilee murmured to herself.
She stepped into the dimly lit garage, looking for someone who looked like they might be in charge. She saw the bike guy who had almost run over leaning against a counter, behind which were stacked parcels awaiting delivery and another man. The man behind the counter was talking in a low, annoyed tone, and Bike Guy was making apologetic noises. The man behind the counter ran his claws lightly across the heavily scratched counter, his scales catching the faint light and flashing dark red.
Jubilee cleared her throat. “Um, hello?”
The two men looked at her. “Yes?” the man being the counter said.
“About the sign up front-”
The man behind the counter slumped a little, having realized that Jubilee was not a customer. “You got a bike?”
“No, but-”
“Speedster?”
“No, but I-”
“You a telepath?”
“No, but-”
“Can you read, answer phones, talk?”
“Duh.”
“Great. You think you can handle dispatch until I can find a telepath?”
“Buy yourself a bike and then I can give you a trial run as a messenger. But what I need is another pair of hands here. Take it or leave it.”
“Taking it! Taking it!” Jubilee said quickly.
The man smirked, his lizard like tail thumping the floor.
***
Jono waited until the transit cop was out of sight and earshot before dropping the general ‘Don’t Look At Me’ compulsion he’d had to adopt on and off all day. Damn busker’s license. God willing, he’d be able to get enough to buy one tomorrow.
He eyed the take currently sitting in the guitar case.
Maybe he could get one in a couple of days.
He plucked out the opening chords to an old Herman’s Hermits tune as a fifty dropping into the guitar case like manna from Heaven. He looked up sharply. I don’t give change.
“I’m not expecting it,” the young woman said, digging her hands into her black, well worn jeans. Her tee-shirt was the same kind of black - old, a little worn, and fading towards grey. She flashed him a nicotine stained smile and spoke in a voice that recalled pea-soup fogs, proper beer, and Silk Cut cigarettes.
She didn’t look like the kind of girl who had fifties to throw around. One of her tennis shoes had found religion, and he could see her sock through the hole.
I’m not a dealer, either.
“I don’t do anything stronger than my fags. But I’m thinking of switching to heroin. It’d be cheaper.” She grinned, pulling out a business card. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a face for radio?” she asked, dropping the card on top of the fifty.
***
“At least,” Angelo said, holding up his apron, “it’s not a silly paper hat. And all the leftovers I can carry.”
“I could be a bike messenger,” Jubilee insisted. “I could be a great bike messenger.”
“Of course you could,” Angelo reassured her. “You’re the fastest thing on wheels. Isn’t she, Jono.”
Jono looked up from the business card he’d been brooding over. Yeah. Sure.