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fandomweekly2019-07-11 10:28 pm
quicksilverfox3) wrote in fandomweekly2019-07-11 10:28 pm
Entry tags:
[#020] One Little Nudge (TM7)
Theme Prompt: 020 - Hindsight
Title: One Little Nudge
Fandom: TM7
Rating/Warnings: K
Bonus: No
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Another day, another heist with Red Harvest acting as bait. (Set in the same universe as my other fic, This Little Heist of Mine
This all could have been avoided. Hindsight was such a strange concept, always staring into the past, considering what they could have done differently.
"Do you regret picking this life?" the security guard asked Red Harvest critically, eyebrows raised over the bank of monitors as he slouched in the chair, chewing his gum arrogantly, as if his life depended on annoying this guard within an inch of his life.
Red blew a bubble, the loud pop causing the guard's eyebrows to twitch, a grin rivalling the Cheshire Cat's slipping across Red's face.
"You're stupid," Red told him, the sudden shift to his native language further confusing the guard, "You've got no idea what you're doing."
"Son, I need you to speak English," the guard said.
"And I need to go home. Looks like neither of us are getting what we want."
A knock on the door cut him off, the pair glancing over as Red blew another bubble, popping it loudly.
"Don't move," he warned Red, one finger pointed in his direction as Red chewed his gum, kicking his feet up onto the other chair. The guard left the room, door clicking shut behind him. Red was back on his feet in an instant, plugging the tiny device into the back of the recently vacated computer. Stupid man.
"How's things Vasquez?" Red whispered into the earpiece, decorative metal curving over this ear.
"Goodnight's doing his good ol' boy act so you have a few. How's the pig?"
Vasquez's voice was a welcome distraction, not that Red would ever admit that.
"Boring. Babbling on about my bad life choices," Red replied, fingers flying over the keyboard, gently nudging cameras to the side by a few inches, a tiny amount but enough to create a pathway, wide enough for a single person and a duffle bag full of cash to slip through.
It was one of Faraday’s hare-brained schemes, the man in question laughing down the line, wearing his thumbs out in the arcade as he watched the bank’s security drop off and pick up the secure cases.
“How long Red?”
Sam sounded stressed, the weight of the uniform he was wearing grating on him in more ways than one.
Red paused, eyes scanning the screen, tracking the slow shift of the cameras sight, spotting Billy tracing the path, bag bouncing against his hip, walk too fluid to be classed as anything other than dangerous. Dimly he heard Sam give his thanks to a passer-by, tone eerily bright.
“Three more minutes Sam. I can still see Billy on the cameras.”
Billy glanced up at the camera, the lens just catching his grin as it shifted sideways.
He hated this part of jobs, the waiting, the watching, the doing nothing. Red drew in a deep breath, sharp tang of mint burning his nose, and forced himself to remain calm. The computer could sense his urgency, he wouldn’t give that guard the satisfaction of catching him for real.
Footsteps. Not part of the plan.
“Plan B Vasquez,” Goodnight said, a twist of amusement colouring his words, “He wouldn’t stay any longer.”
“Did that on purpose you- “
Whatever legendary rant Vasquez was about to work himself into was cut off by the chime of the computer: the little program had finished. Red slipped the device out and hooked it back onto his necklace, now nothing more than some trendy accessory, already moving back towards the uncomfortable plastic chair as the door creaked open.
“!Oye, hijo de puta! Esa ardilla me robó mi maldito dinero!”
The guard paused at the door, staring back into the depths of the corridor, missing Red slipping back into his seat, all evidence of his transgressions hidden.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down!” The guard shouted, hands trembling, casting desperate glances down the corridor towards the uncaring Vasquez.
“!Van a comerme mis ojos! !El gobierno les está pagando a ellos!”
“Son, you can go. Don’t do that again,” the guard said to Red, exiting the room before he had even entered it, the sound of his boots echoing down the hall as Red slipped out of the room, door clicking closed behind him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched away, catching Vasquez’s eye as he moved away.
Vasquez has truly outdone himself this time: stinking like he was wearing a brewery, eyes wild and hair wilder, shoes thrown down for Faraday to collect, shirt mostly unbuttoned. He continued the tirade of Spanish, backing away from the security guards as they advanced, cowering like a beaten dog.
“Easy now, easy now,” Sam called, calmly stepping between the two groups, palms outstretched, a nearby woman fanning herself at the sight of him in uniform.
Red disappeared into the crowd that surged forwards, joining the path Billy had tread to weave between the cameras and climb into the van outside. Billy was already there, Goodnight in the passenger seat, passing a cigarette between them like guilty teenagers.
“How’s Vasquez?” Goodnight asked, grinning.
“Having fun. Sam’s with him now,” Red replied, buckling himself into the seat, not trusting the way Billy’s eyes gleamed.
“Heist tomorrow, then we prepare for the big one,” Goodnight hummed, blowing rings of smoke out of the window, pausing momentarily as Faraday threw open the door to climb in.
“I got the high score!” He crowed, grin wide and bright, wearing Vasquez’s shoes around his neck like a trophy. Billy sighed, casting his eyes skyward before rolling them to Faraday.
"And I know the guards schedule, so win-win."
It was easy to spot Sam and Vasquez: Vasquez clinging to Sam like a limpet pining his arms to his sides, a long suffering look on his face as he carefully picked his way across the car park and half threw Vasquez into the van.
"Everyone okay?" Sam called, swinging himself into the van. He grinned, relaxing for the first time that day.
"Let's head back to Emma. We've got some planning to do."
Title: One Little Nudge
Fandom: TM7
Rating/Warnings: K
Bonus: No
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Another day, another heist with Red Harvest acting as bait. (Set in the same universe as my other fic, This Little Heist of Mine
This all could have been avoided. Hindsight was such a strange concept, always staring into the past, considering what they could have done differently.
"Do you regret picking this life?" the security guard asked Red Harvest critically, eyebrows raised over the bank of monitors as he slouched in the chair, chewing his gum arrogantly, as if his life depended on annoying this guard within an inch of his life.
Red blew a bubble, the loud pop causing the guard's eyebrows to twitch, a grin rivalling the Cheshire Cat's slipping across Red's face.
"You're stupid," Red told him, the sudden shift to his native language further confusing the guard, "You've got no idea what you're doing."
"Son, I need you to speak English," the guard said.
"And I need to go home. Looks like neither of us are getting what we want."
A knock on the door cut him off, the pair glancing over as Red blew another bubble, popping it loudly.
"Don't move," he warned Red, one finger pointed in his direction as Red chewed his gum, kicking his feet up onto the other chair. The guard left the room, door clicking shut behind him. Red was back on his feet in an instant, plugging the tiny device into the back of the recently vacated computer. Stupid man.
"How's things Vasquez?" Red whispered into the earpiece, decorative metal curving over this ear.
"Goodnight's doing his good ol' boy act so you have a few. How's the pig?"
Vasquez's voice was a welcome distraction, not that Red would ever admit that.
"Boring. Babbling on about my bad life choices," Red replied, fingers flying over the keyboard, gently nudging cameras to the side by a few inches, a tiny amount but enough to create a pathway, wide enough for a single person and a duffle bag full of cash to slip through.
It was one of Faraday’s hare-brained schemes, the man in question laughing down the line, wearing his thumbs out in the arcade as he watched the bank’s security drop off and pick up the secure cases.
“How long Red?”
Sam sounded stressed, the weight of the uniform he was wearing grating on him in more ways than one.
Red paused, eyes scanning the screen, tracking the slow shift of the cameras sight, spotting Billy tracing the path, bag bouncing against his hip, walk too fluid to be classed as anything other than dangerous. Dimly he heard Sam give his thanks to a passer-by, tone eerily bright.
“Three more minutes Sam. I can still see Billy on the cameras.”
Billy glanced up at the camera, the lens just catching his grin as it shifted sideways.
He hated this part of jobs, the waiting, the watching, the doing nothing. Red drew in a deep breath, sharp tang of mint burning his nose, and forced himself to remain calm. The computer could sense his urgency, he wouldn’t give that guard the satisfaction of catching him for real.
Footsteps. Not part of the plan.
“Plan B Vasquez,” Goodnight said, a twist of amusement colouring his words, “He wouldn’t stay any longer.”
“Did that on purpose you- “
Whatever legendary rant Vasquez was about to work himself into was cut off by the chime of the computer: the little program had finished. Red slipped the device out and hooked it back onto his necklace, now nothing more than some trendy accessory, already moving back towards the uncomfortable plastic chair as the door creaked open.
“!Oye, hijo de puta! Esa ardilla me robó mi maldito dinero!”
The guard paused at the door, staring back into the depths of the corridor, missing Red slipping back into his seat, all evidence of his transgressions hidden.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down!” The guard shouted, hands trembling, casting desperate glances down the corridor towards the uncaring Vasquez.
“!Van a comerme mis ojos! !El gobierno les está pagando a ellos!”
“Son, you can go. Don’t do that again,” the guard said to Red, exiting the room before he had even entered it, the sound of his boots echoing down the hall as Red slipped out of the room, door clicking closed behind him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched away, catching Vasquez’s eye as he moved away.
Vasquez has truly outdone himself this time: stinking like he was wearing a brewery, eyes wild and hair wilder, shoes thrown down for Faraday to collect, shirt mostly unbuttoned. He continued the tirade of Spanish, backing away from the security guards as they advanced, cowering like a beaten dog.
“Easy now, easy now,” Sam called, calmly stepping between the two groups, palms outstretched, a nearby woman fanning herself at the sight of him in uniform.
Red disappeared into the crowd that surged forwards, joining the path Billy had tread to weave between the cameras and climb into the van outside. Billy was already there, Goodnight in the passenger seat, passing a cigarette between them like guilty teenagers.
“How’s Vasquez?” Goodnight asked, grinning.
“Having fun. Sam’s with him now,” Red replied, buckling himself into the seat, not trusting the way Billy’s eyes gleamed.
“Heist tomorrow, then we prepare for the big one,” Goodnight hummed, blowing rings of smoke out of the window, pausing momentarily as Faraday threw open the door to climb in.
“I got the high score!” He crowed, grin wide and bright, wearing Vasquez’s shoes around his neck like a trophy. Billy sighed, casting his eyes skyward before rolling them to Faraday.
"And I know the guards schedule, so win-win."
It was easy to spot Sam and Vasquez: Vasquez clinging to Sam like a limpet pining his arms to his sides, a long suffering look on his face as he carefully picked his way across the car park and half threw Vasquez into the van.
"Everyone okay?" Sam called, swinging himself into the van. He grinned, relaxing for the first time that day.
"Let's head back to Emma. We've got some planning to do."
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