#hip writes

[hipwrites]

Remember that AU where the Legion won and Nigel and Gio worked together as spies to steal information for the groups still trying to take them down, because I sure do and I wrote a short thing

“How do I look? Convincing?”

Gio shook his head and smiled around the cigarette in his mouth. He plucked it free, smoke curling into the air with his words, “As the world’s smallest recruit, perhaps. I still think you should have gone as some sort of officer.”

Nigel pushed his goggles up with some effort--really not the best choice with his glasses, but still--and fixed Gio with a look. “We’ve been over this. I need to be as invisible as possible, and that would hardly be a low profile. I’m convincing enough as a new recruit that hardly anyone has met yet, but as anything else...”

“Yes, yes, but you can’t just walk into anywhere as the lowest of the low on the social ladder. You know something about climbing those, I think.” Gio waved a hand dismissively, “And for what you’re after...”

“Well.” Nigel stood up a bit straighter, lips curling into a smile behind his face mask. “You’ll just have to provide a marvelous distraction for me, won’t you?”

“Don’t I always?” He chuckled and pressed a finger to the tip of Nigel’s nose. “Just focus on getting out of there alive, yes?”

Nigel pulled back and rubbed the back of his neck, “Shouldn’t I be saying that to the one walking in there to play the lost merchant? With no disguise to speak of?”

“Ha! You’re saying that like this isn’t something I’ve done before.” Gio laughed into his cupped hand. He tilted a grin in Nigel’s direction, which slowly sobered into something quieter. “...but, really, are you sure you’re up for this? I know this is personal for you, with the Strip and everything that’s happened since...I mean, if you’d rather keep your distance, just in case there’s anyone you don’t want to risk seeing...”

Whatever remained of his earlier smile drained from Nigel’s face. He shook his head sharply and held up a gloved hand, “Don’t.”

“Fair enough.” Gio frowned and popped his cigarette back in his mouth. “Just...be careful, okay? Don’t do anything reckless.”

“And you’re one to tell anyone that since...when, exactly?”

Gio sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, that one I maybe deserved.”

[hipwrites]

I have no excuses for this

“My goodness, detective, but you’re a sore loser.” Nigel’s twitched into a pleasant smile. He tapped his lips with a forefinger. “If I were you, I’d cut my losses. 

“You.” Vicente took a deep, calming breath. The ropes around his wrists cut deeply into his skin--trying to squirm free would be painful. Figuring out a way to cut them would be difficult, with Nigel watching him this intently. Another breath, and then, “You’re the one who stole the last guns they trafficked through this warehouse. From the Oleanders.” 

Nigel shrugged theatrically and gave a shake of his head, “I mean, really, all things considered you’re lucky. You’re not someone I feel a particular sense of...distaste for. Personally, I find your perseverance in the face of insurmountable odds admirable. If pointless. These sorry excuses--” He nudged the unconscious guard with the toe of his boot, “are hardly worth the energy you’d expend if you got free of those bonds. They would have killed you if I hadn’t had a mutual interest in the party their boss was selling to.”

Vicente narrowed his eyes, just a bit. Nigel frowned, “...hm. I can see that doesn’t concern you near as much as I’d expect.” He knelt down and titled his head, “You can’t have backup, not with how well-paid off your...department...”

A moment of silence, and then a quiet laugh. “Ah. Of course. You called that little friend of yours in the mask. The useless one who barely fights. Did you let yourself get caught by them on purpose...? Because even if I had been joking about admiring you, I would be impressed now.”

“...how did...” Vicente’s brows creased together in concern.

“I know almost as many things about others as they don’t know about me.” Nigel tilted Vicente’s face up with two fingers and smiled again. “I’d ask you to ask Cyril to say hello to Amber for me, but I don’t expect you’ll remember a minute from now.”

[hipwrites]

Very belated birthday present for @thebitterthrills! She requested Cat and Gracie in an all-out cage match. I went with their FO4 versions because that’s how I roll.

I’m sticking this under a cut because #violence and #blood

There was nothing wrong with stealing in Cat’s eyes. The problem lay entirely in getting caught.

The redhead whose wallet she’d taken, the one she was running from, was somehow Cat’s instincts normally would have told her to leave alone. She looked like someone that she shouldn’t be messing with--she was all muscle. But the telltale jingle of caps in her pockets had been hard to ignore, and Cat was fast on her feet and not far enough from her camp to be concerned. It should have been over without a fight.

Maybe some higher power out there hated her. That could be the only explanation for why the woman had been on her in two strides and spinning her around to throw a punch in Cat’s face that left her nose bloody and her staggering for a few steps, dazed, as she tried to process what was happening.

“The fuck do you think you’re DOIN’?” And oh, that was an angry tone.

The redhead was bigger and stronger. Cat fought dirtier. She kicked, digging the heel of her foot into the woman’s shin to drive her off-balance. She clearly hadn’t been expecting it, and Cat made the most of it to break into a run, one hand holding her face with one hand and shoving the bag of caps into her pocket as she went.

A grunt of effort told her that she was being followed at what she hoped was a distance. Cat turned and jogged backwards a few steps. “Hey! T’hell is your problem, huh?”

The woman drew back her lips into something that couldn’t quite be called a snarl, dug her heels back in the dirt to brace herself, and lunged. Cat yelped in surprise and struggled to keep her balance; the woman threw her weight against her and grabbed Cat’s arm, to pull her forward and over her shoulder.

Cat slammed to the ground, hard, the back of her head digging deeply into the dirt by the side of the road. She let out a yelp of pain--god, but she was going to need a drink after this--and the edge of the woman’s arm pressed deeply into her collarbone.

“Listen here, y’little thief,” She hissed quietly, “Hand over my caps an’ I won’t fuckin’. Y’know.” She mimed a shot at her head with the fingers of her free hand, brown eyes narrowed.

“Woah, woah! Noooooo need for that!” Cat shook her head violently, shaking what little hair she had out of her eye. She nodded as well as she could with the arm blocking her throat downward. “Front jeans pocket! Y’can grab it yourself if y’ain’t gonna let me up!”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up, but she gave a half-assed shrug with one shoulder and slid her hand into the pocket Cat had indicated. She came up with the wallet, gave it a jingle, and deposited it into her own coat pocket. Her hand came back with a crumpled cigarette and lighter; she sat back on Cat’s legs heavily and released her collarbone so she could light it and take a drag. Cat reached up to rub at her neck with a wince.

“Take this as a fuckin’ warnin’.” The woman took a drag on her cigarette and leaned in; smoke blew from her nostrils and mouth as she spoke, “Next time you steal from me, I ain’t just gonna leave it at a few hits. Get me?”

Cat ran her eyes up and down her face. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth to bite it and nodded, holding a breath stitched tightly in her chest.

“Cat? Are you okay?” Ashling stood up, her eyebrow knit in concern. She gingerly took Cat’s chin and tilted it up to get a better look at the her bloody nose and the bruises littering her skin. “What happened?”

“Better’n okay!” Cat let out a sigh, “I think I’m in love.”