No Curtain Call
Fandom: The Running Man 2025 Relationships: Evan McCone/OFC, Ben Richards/Sheila Richards Rating: M Summary: Evan McCone had been in the Running Man game too long to go out like Daniel Fucking Killian wanted him to. He'd learned a long time ago he had to look out for himself alone. And so he calls in a favor from his favorite rival and ends up on a new side of the revolution against the very empire he helped fuel. Two problems: said favorite rival still hates him, and coming from the other side, no one's keen on his ideas, and there's only so much his silver tongue and Network-taught marketing schtick can do for him. Chapters: 1 / ? Chapter 1: The Devil's Price A plane crashes, J.J. Teague gets a phone call, and a spark ignites. Find on AO3 Taglist: @calibrated-romcom
Juniper Teague stared at the screen as the ‘leaked footage’ of just how McCone and the others had handled Ben Richards’ family came through the broadcast.
She had been doing her side hustle for too long to believe any of what that snake Killian showed the public, but this was different. She’d learn the signs of the fakes. The eyes were brighter, teeth wider, the seam of a person’s lips just were a little too straight, or it had the distinct horizontal line where the effects people had slipped up in covering edits up. This footage was different- the telltale signs were missing. At a time like this Network Editors were absolutely ready and raring to go with doctored footage in the moment. But this was McCone, and she’d watched him get progressively angrier in the last month over Richards giving him the slip time and time again. She wouldn’t put it past him.
Still, they’d been doing their own cat and mouse game for the better part of two years off-camera, and the fact that she could make it out of his hunts alive but a toddler possibly didn’t set a pit in her stomach that was growing by the second.
Her attention broke from the television when her phone rang, and ‘UNKNOWN CALLER’ flashed up at her from the I.D. What was it now? Helping in a surgery for some bigwig that didn’t want to pay? A bar fight gone wrong down the street? The Apostle need another edit? She answered it: “J.J.”
“Juniper. June. Junebug. Darling,” came the response, dripping sarcasm.
Juniper glanced up at the screen again. They’d switched back from the footage in Richards’ apartment back to the plane. The owner of the voice on the other end of her current phone call was suddenly missing from the plane footage. Or it looked like he was. He was unmasked now, he could’ve been any random person on that plane. The cameras were focused solely on the Runner now. “Child Killer,” she greeted. “How the Hell did you get my number?”
“You of all people should know not to believe everything you watch.”
It wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t answer her question. Probably because he knew she knew she could chalk it up to Network resources and be correct. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Evan McCone laughed on the other end- a quiet, wheezy thing, like he was trying to keep quiet. “I need a favor. And you’re gonna help me.”
Juniper looked back at the screen. She could hear gunshots on the other end of the phone and Richards opened fire on any corner he could, and onscreen, those same gunshots went off mere seconds later. “Oh am I? By the looks of it, I don’t think you’re in any shape to return it later.”
“We’ll see. Meet me where we had our first date. Bring your rig.”
Date? Date?! “Excuse me?!”
“- and if I don’t make it to said meet, you help this fucker burn this place to the ground for me.”
“McCone, what the fuck-”
There was a clatter on the other end, then a band and two distinct human roars- one that sounded like it was in McCone’s vocal range and the other one must’ve been Richards, and then the line went dead.
Juniper looked back at the television. Richards was making his way through the fuselage, arm out, frantic, looking for McCone.
And moments later, McCone popped up from one of the panels in the floor- tripped Richards, and the pair of them made those same shouts she had just heard.
She watched as the men threw each other around the fuselage. The audio on the feed had mysteriously, conveniently gone out as the pair circled each other and had a conversation, McCone sneering all the while. Richards shoved him up against the wall, stabbed him in the eye with a shard of glass, and then the fight somehow continued with McCone just throwing punches slower and weaker, because of course what should’ve been a kill shot didn’t do the trick. McCone was a fucking cockroach who just wouldn’t fucking die.
Moments later, she realized she spoke too soon, because Richards grabbed the parachute release on the pack McCone was wearing, pulled it, and McCone had gone flying against the broken window behind him, and his back broke in the process. The Hunter’s body jolted a couple of times, then his head lulled to the side, then nothing.
Juniper found herself flinching at the violence. She knew Richards wasn’t the creep he was being portrayed as, but that was the work of a desperate, cornered man. And the footage looked real enough this time. She figured she was right before. Killian had brought in better Editors, or it had been real. And part of her hated herself for it, but even after wishing him dead so many times she mourned for McCone as much as she mourned for Richards as she watched his Run progress. At the end of the day, they were both pawns in a game that went way too deep, way too far.
Still, McCone had sounded too confident on the phone, even when he was implying he may not survive. He had been in the game too long and probably had thirty different contingency plans considering his boss had just thrown him to the wolves.
And so Juniper got up and started packing the designated bag. If the footage was real, she had a dead man’s last request to uphold. Sure, the man was an evil bastard, but if she refused... well, she didn’t need that karma in her life.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
“First Date”, McCone had said. It had taken Juniper the better part of the day to realize the ‘date’ in question was her old apartment in Co-Op City. The one where they first met- and he had nearly put a bullet between her eyes when she opened the door.
Back then, the Jolly Roger 'Project' had been a work in progress, and they’d only managed to interrupt The Network’s broadcasting twice. Their man Brady had gotten sloppy with security and accidentally doxxed all of them in the process. Killian wanted to ‘cut the head off the snake before it grew up’ and sent McCone and the kill squad out after them.
Brady had paid for his error with his life.
Juniper was luckier. McCone had shown up at her door, and her, not thinking after a long, distracting day at the clinic, hadn’t checked the peephole. She opened the door and found herself looking down Fate’s barrel. She had barely gotten out of the way in time before McCone had squeezed off one round, and it was only by a further stretch of luck and the fact that she’d been on home turf that she’d manage to dodge most of the others until she got her bedroom window open and she could make it down the fire escape. He’d fired off a round that grazed her shoulder for her trouble.
The Jolly Roger Network had been labeled as the propaganda machine by the end of day, and when The Running Man or any of the other shows were in the off-season, The Network broadcasted the ‘Pirate Hunt’- where the Hunters would go after them, just to keep the interest in Hunters alive.
McCone was fast, smart and lethal, but Juniper had grown up in Co-Op’s streets. She knew shortcuts McCone didn’t. She always managed to slip him, and, to her and Jolly Roger’s chagrin, Pirate Hunt and her place in it had made for excellent television, so The Network had evidently worked something out that “their” episodes were a cat and mouse game between them, a constant catch and release. She fought for her life and McCone just toyed with her and found a convenient way to let her escape at the last minute every single time.
Admittedly, she hadn’t minded when The Network had given her a supercut of her Greatest Hits- including one when McCone had her pinned on the street and she had managed to kick her way out from under him and kicked him in the face, and another one where she’d fashioned a molotov and tossed it at a wall to put some space between them, but they'd managed to spin that one and make it look like it was part of one of McCone's Running Man kills a couple of weeks later.
Ridiculous conspiracy theories started flying after that. Some said the pair of them were secretly married and just putting on a show. Others denied that and said they hated each other and the hunt was very sexy and the pair of them ‘just needed to fuck’ - with a small portion of those people adding that that development should be televised once it happened.
McCone, not one to waste an entertainment opportunity, had just gone with all the theories, and if they were filming a chase, he’d break out whatever pet name he could think of all while trying to riddle her with bullets.
That had been just how they worked for the last two years. And evidently, even seconds from apparent death, McCone had stuck with it, so of course he’d call their first encounter a ‘date.’ Prick.
She arrived at her old place, gun in hand this time, keen on waiting it out outside or in her old hallway, but something in her told her to go check the apartment itself. She had gone up to her floor with the plan of just knocking on the door and checking on the new tenant just in case, but the second she knocked on the door it swung open, and that told her all she needed to know. She didn't find a corpse, but she did find photos of who appeared to be the current renter - the man who had died on Speed That Wheel the week prior. She wondered if the man had just forgotten to lock up in his rush to the show, or if the landlord had unlocked the apartment after the fact to allow the other tenants a free-for-all so they didn't have to hire someone to clear it out. She promptly decided that, with options like that, she didn't want to know the answer. And so she locked the door behind her, put her bag down, tried to get comfortable, and waited.
Night had fallen by the time there was a weak knock at the door. She did check the peephole this time. Richards was on the other end of the door, swaying foward and back like he wasn't sure if he should even be letting her see him. A fair precaution. She opened the door. No, it wasn't just Richards. McCone was leaned up against him, alive but certainly not well, judging by the fact that his face was twice as bloodied as Richards', and he was holding himself like every movement hurt.
And now here the pair of them were, in a bastardization of their first meeting, but this time she was the one armed, and he was maskless, possibly bleeding out in a stranger's hallway, propped up by the very man he'd been trying to kill the last month.
“Honey, I’m home,” McCone drawled.
“Shut the fuck up,” the other two snapped at him.
Juniper looked the pair of them up and down briefly. It was still a sight to behold, the Network’s former Boogeyman looking a wreck with a bloodied bandage over his eye (so the stabbing had been real, at least) and this desperate, “evil” Runner who hated the Network looking somehow equal parts terrified, hopeful and apprehensive, and like he wanted to kill the man at his side all at once. She stepped aside so they could enter.
Richards stepped back only to knee McCone in the back to get him to walk in.
McCone went willingly and half walked, half fell into the nearest chair.
Juniper looked back in the hallway, checked left and right to see if anyone had seen them and were dumb enough to stick around. She found the coast clear, and on a whim, looked up at the door frame to search for the hidden cameras she had installed after McCone’s attack. By some miracle they were still there. With any luck she could just fire up a couple of systems and have them working back. She headed back into the apartment and locked all four mechanisms on the door.
Richards didn’t waste time. He raised his gun - no, not his, she could just make out the etched ‘Fate’ on the barrel- towards her. “You June?”
“J.J,” Juniper corrected with a glare at McCone.
The other man waved one hand dismissively. “We’re business partners now, we’re all gonna need to be on a first-name basis.”
“I haven’t agreed to shit yet,” Richards corrected.
McCone sighed. “Then what the Hell am I doing here?”
“Needed you for this,” Richards motioned at Juniper, then addressed her. “He told me you’re one of the people for those broadcasts that made it through the cracks. You can get actual truth out.” He turned the gun on McCone and pressed it to the side of his head, and something in McCone’s uncovered eye that wasn’t covered with a bloodied scrap of cloth flashed- but fizzled in a moment. “The second I smell a lie or hear anything that doesn’t track, he dies.”
Juniper scoffed and looked between them pointedly and then arched an eyebrow- an open invitation to just go right ahead.
Richards frowned at her, then back to him, then back to her, apparently realizing he had no idea what the Hell sort of dynamic he’d just walked into.
To be fair, she didn’t really know either.
“I’m worth more alive to you than dead,” McCone pointed out.
“Not true at all,” Richards snapped. He turned his attention back to Juniper. “Are you or aren’t you?”
“I am, but I’m the Editor. I put the stuff together. I would need the rest of the team to put anything out. Besides, you’re a martyr for your cause now, that’s a Hell of a statement.”
“People are gonna think my family is… like what these people made me,” he pressed the gun further into McCone’s temple. “I can’t have that. Even if I…” he trailed off and blinked rapidly for a couple of moments and her heart broke for him: “Even if I have to stay dead and never see them again, I need proof of life for my family when we’re at it. If they’re still alive.”
“I told you they’re fine. Or they should be.” McCone turned to face Richards so his forehead was centered on the barrel- to make a point or dare the man to do it when he was looking him in the face, Juniper wasn’t sure. “By rights, it should’ve been me who took them out. And now with me freshly fired, they’re gonna screen test before they replace me and send them out. We’ve got time, I’ve got insider knowledge, and J.J here has the resources. For your family and to help take out Killian.”
“Since when are you not Killian’s lapdog, McCone?” Juniper asked. “What prompted the change to Team ‘Burn it All Down’?”
“Since he fired me with a streamlined plan for replacement after I gave them all their fucking ratings, J.J.”
She frowned at him, then looked to Richards for confirmation, and he nodded. That must’ve been part of the audio the Network cut. She had just figured it was supposed to fuel a one-on-one between the men, she didn’t expect Killian to burn all bridges. “Do you-”
“Task at hand, please,” Richards interrupted- and clicked the safety off the gun for good measure.
She sighed. “I need an address to find them,” she pointed out.
Richards opened his mouth, then immediately shut it and shot an uncertain look at McCone.
McCone heaved a sigh and then said an address that was a few blocks away from their current location aloud.
Richards went wide-eyed for a moment before he pulled the gun back in order to pistol-whip him across the face. He made contact where the cloth was pulled over one eye.
McCone yowled and jolted at the contact. After a moment he righted himself and turned his attention back to Richards. “I just said it would have been me, Benjamin Thomas Richards, Age 35, born at Herald’s Mercy Hospital. They tell me all the details about Runners, including relevant addresses for just such occasions.”
Richard pulled the gun back again.
Juniper jumped between them and pushed Richards’ arm away before he could make contact until she realized that gave McCone an opening for a potential attack. She kept them separated but turned so her back was to Richards instead. “Enough! We’re making enough noise here as it is! We don’t need to raise suspicions if you two are dead.” She turned her head just slightly to address Richards. “Was he right about the address?”
Richards stubbornly remained silent, but she didn’t exactly blame him.
Her eyes flicked to McCone’s, and he merely scoffed and looked away. She turned back to Richards shrugged one shoulder. “One tap for ‘no’, two for ‘yes.’’
That got a harder laugh from McCone.
Juniper glanced at the television. “Free-Vee, volume up to twenty.” The Network’s background music swelled. She glanced at McCone, who was making a show of looking anywhere but at them pointedly. She shrugged her shoulder again. At least McCone couldn’t hear the answer now.
It was still a good enough confirmation for Richards. After a moment, she felt pressure on her shoulder blade. Two taps. Shit. “Are there any backup addresses we can try?” A longer pause. One tap. Her heart broke for him all over again. Either he was being careful or he was honest and terrified for them. She stepped back. “I’ll check,” she told him. She tried offering a reassuring smile, but it felt all sorts of wrong. She crossed the room to her duffel bag and produced the repurpose eyebot and the laptop that went with it. She pressed a few buttons, entered the address and the eyebot whirred to life. Juniper opened the window above her, and after a couple of more entered commands, the bot exited and zoomed off towards Richards’ home.
Juniper looked back at McCone and took a better look at his injuries. There was no fresh blood under his eye and the fabric was a deep red-brown now, so the placement must’ve been at least a few hours old, so they must’ve gotten it handled somewhere along the way. That meant potential trouble. “Did you turn Richards into a surgeon, or did you get the eye looked at by an actual professional?”
“Know a surgeon who owed me a favor. We went there first thing,” McCone replied.
“Can you trust them? Did you cover your tracks enough?”
The energy in the room shifted, and the overconfidence that McCone was trying to exude in his state faded away all at once. His good eye flicked back and forth for a moment, and Juniper realized he was coming to the conclusion that so many Runners had come to. Suddenly, he couldn’t trust anyone- and he knew it.
To his credit, McCone didn’t lie- to himself or them: “... I don’t know,” he answered in a tone that he could tell where the conversation was about to go.
“God fucking damn it, McCone,” she hissed. She figured if this situation ever happened he’d be smarter about interacting with someone who just ‘owed him a favor.’
Richards, on the other hand, scoffed. And it went to prove how The Network’s Editors still could use some work, because when they’d faked his footage, the copy had never sounded so genuinely pleased with a macabre outcome. “The big bad Hunter might just become the fucking hunted because you might’ve chosen to trust the wrong guy. How does it fuckin’ feel, huh?”
McCone scoffed. “The irony isn’t lost on me, yes.” It sounded strained, careful. Juniper had never heard him like that.
Richards wasn’t picking up on the change, or he just didn’t care. “Sucks, doesn’t it-”
“Leave it,” the Hunter replied, clipped again.
“Is he alive?” Juniper cut in.
McCone shot her a warning look.
Richards was content to stay on his own tirade. “No, seriously, I told you so. What’s it like knowing that guy’s gonna betray you for a payout from a society you helped build-”
McCone slammed his hand down on the coffee table next to his chair, loud and sudden enough that the other two jumped. It wasn’t lost on Juniper that Richards stepped in front of her to block her from him.
“He was my brother-in-law!” McCone yelled.
Juniper looked between them and watched some of the fight leave Richards’ eyes. There must’ve been more that was discussed when the audio got muted, or if they’d interacted off camera between trying to kill each other before yesterday.
However, Richards went back to looking furious nearly immediately. “You still fuckin’ earned that shit. I hope he sells you out-”
McCone lunged for him then, but between his injuries and a newly acquired issue with depth perception, he caught his shin on the ottoman that had been off to the side and he stumbled- not enough to wipe out entirely, but enough for Richards to leap out of immediate danger before McCone braced himself on the wall behind him to balance out.
It was Richards’ turn to scoff. “That’s karma, fucker!”
“Fuck. You!” McCone hissed.
“Fuck you!”
Juniper really, really hoped the neighbors were the sort that kept their head down and didn’t report anyone for loud noises. Maybe it was still the Martinsons next door. They knew better than to investigate neighbors’ business in a shady complex. She opened her mouth to interrupt them, only to notice Richards’ eyes flick to the monitor on her laptop and stay glued there. She turned to see that the eyebot had reached the designated building.
Richards instructed her which way to send the bot to reach one of the exterior windows, then promptly crossed the room to McCone and shoved Fate’s barrel under the man’s chin.
The bastard had the audacity to laugh. “You gonna shoot me with my own gun if you don’t like the answer you’re gonna get?”
“Absolutely. Fitting, don’t you think?”
The camera circled closer to the window, and Richards kept his eyes glued to the screen, finger near itching on Fate’s trigger.
Juniper caught McCone looking from the screen, to him, to the gun, back to the gun, biding his time, most likely, so she drifted closer as a backup.
One pan up, and the feed was clear. Richards’ wife and daughter were in the bedroom- and most importantly alive. His wife was packing a bag frantically, every so often stopping to fuss over the toddler.
Richards let out a relieved sob at the sight and his knees buckled, threat immediately forgotten.
Juniper dove for the gun the moment it left McCone’s chin and took it before Richards hit the ground, surprised when the Hunter didn’t even make a single move for it.
McCone tossed his hands up. “You happy now? Your precious wife and daughter are alive. I didn’t do shit to them. I told you it was a ploy-”
Richards lashed out with the arm closest to McCone, swiped from behind the man’s knees and yanked.
The angle was bad and the work was sloppy, but it did the trick. McCone hit the ground hard, back-first, and Richards ducked forward, got an arm around McCone’s neck and squeezed, managing to tuck himself away from McCone’s wild swings. “Take a goddamn five,” Richards hissed.
McCone’s struggles slowed until his arms went entirely slack and his eyes slid closed.
Richards waited a few extra moments, only letting his grip slacken a bit before he pushed the man off of him and looked at Juniper. “I just needed him to shut the fuck up.”
“Yeah. He’s got that effect on people," Juniper deadpanned.
Richards eyes flicked from her, to Fate still resting at her side and back.
She shrugged. “I’d like to hold onto it for a while.”
Richards pressed his lips into a thin line, but nodded all the same.
She motioned at the fire escape window. “I’m gonna get some air. Come with me? Looks like you could use it.” She ducked out the window and onto the fire escape. No one was out here, and any conversation would be muffled by the city noise below. Better yet, she couldn’t make out any vehicles close enough that would’ve had cameras with decent enough zoom lenses for them.
Richards took a spot on the opposite end of the fire escape. They sat in surprisingly companionable silence for a few minutes. Juniper watched some of the tension melt off him and he closed his eyes and took a few deliberate breaths.
After a while, Richards spoke up again: “I’m not- they made- I-” Richards sighed and looked around helplessly. “I’m not that guy. I didn’t want to kill anyone, I don’t want anyone to die… except Killian and his people now.”
“I know.” Juniper told him gently. “I wanted the gun for him, not you.”
He looked away again, tucked his head down and looked back. “How are you so confident about that? Not that I don’t… appreciate it, but… now we’re all in a very distrustful boat. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this.”
“No, you shouldn’t be. But you can. And same for me with you, I think. I have that on good authority." She glanced at the door where McCone was seemingly still out cold on the other side. “We’ve got uh… friends in common. A certain family. Two members. One little, one big. Likes theatrics as much as McCone,” when Richards visibly realized who she was getting at, she smiled. “We’ve hosted their work. They help us out from time to time.”
Richards swallowed hard. “Are, uh…” he coughed weakly. “Are they okay? After…?”
She nodded. “As of at least two days ago, they’re fine. They’re in the wind. They know their city more than we know ours. We’re trying to keep tabs, but we don’t want to give too much away either.”
Richards exhaled sharply and he looked like he was about to vomit, sigh, or start sobbing again. Maybe all at the same time. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. After a few moments, he finally spoke again, voice shaky. “Thank you. For checking on my family, too.”
She reached over and gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Us little guys have to look out for each other. You’re starting a network of your own, Richards. We join forces, we could make this work. It’ll take time, but we can win. We have to.”
“Ben,” the man corrected, though he sounded hopeful about the topic at hand. “My name’s Ben.” He nodded towards McCone. “That jackass had a point.”
She hummed in acknowledgement. “So. Elephant in the room. Do you seriously buy into his turncoat schtick?”
“I don’t know,” Ben admitted. “By the sound of it, you know him better than I do.”
“Doubtful. I think technically you’ve spent more time with him.”
“He called you ‘Honey’ when we first got in here,” Richards pointed out. Then: “But you did tell him to shut the fuck up faster than I did.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly is your guys' deal?”
She scoffed- not at the question, but at the context. “You ever watch that show Pirate Hunt on the off-seasons of the big shows?”
Ben shook his head. “My kid’s two. I only started watching The Network shit because I was getting desperate and needed to know what options I had to get more money coming in. All I watched the last few months before that was baby cartoons.”
“Think Running Man, but less structure. No tapes, no rules, just death. Except for me, because I slipped McCone three times and the public decided we had tension.”
Ben groaned in disgust. “Anything for entertainment.”
She shrugged. “Been hiding out from this guy for the better part of two years. We’re just lucky because Killian sees us as rats. No rewards for sightings for us. We're off limits. He wants it to be the Hunters to get us to send a message.”
“Two years is a long time to dodge that guy. I should know,” Ben said experimentally, testing the waters - or her own limits.
“Because probably up until that plane, McCone didn’t have a single original thought in his head that The Network didn’t spoon feed him. He sees what he knows they want him to see. Hell, I doubt it was any coincidence that one of our chases ended on a bed.” When Ben’s look of curiosity faded to concern, she shook her head. “It was just a second. I just landed there when I was jumping out of his way. He didn’t try anything, or Killian didn’t tell him to try anything. He let me up fast enough. I still tried to scratch his face off, though. Think one of his scars are my work.”
“Good on you,” Ben teased after a moment.
Somehow, it was just the right thing to say, and the pair of them took a moment to laugh together. After a moment, she sighed. “But as for trusting that he’s on our side, I don’t know. He could be, he could also try to kill us tonight, then be on his way- and then either go groveling back to Killian, or he’s gonna go try to off Killian himself. He’s spiteful enough. We’ve both seen that. But now he’s a loose cannon. And we have to be careful.”
“Hell hath no fury like a Hunter scorned,” Ben agreed.
She laughed again. “Oh, that’s the right amount of cheese. Bet he’s gonna hit us with something similar when he’s awake and pleading his case.”
“I’m not pleading, I’m making.”
The pair of them startled at McCone’s voice and turned to face him.
The Hunter was leaning half in, half out the window- but it did look like he’d only been awake again for a few seconds.
Ben went to step between her and McCone again, but she stopped him with a look and made a point to look at the window behind him- and thankfully he got the hint and stood still until he glanced over the fire escape railing and realized it was a six story dead drop to the ground if neither of them made it to the staircase, and cast her another weary look.
Juniper, in turn, merely tucked one ankle around one of the spokes on the railing and looked back at McCone. “Sleep well?”
“Peachy,” he deadpanned. He looked down at her foot, then back up to her eyes. “Relax, you’re safe here,” he cut in, sounding utterly bored. Then, mocking: “I’m not gonna push.”
“Yeah, well, considering the last time you and I were on a fire escape together, excuse me for not believing you.”
“I made sure there was a dumpster under you. You were fine.”
“You or Killian made sure?” she countered, and when he merely scowled in response, she took a step closer to the door. “That fall fucked up my hip. I could barely walk for three weeks. Real brilliant plan to keep me alive. Or onscreen for more bullshit chases.”
“Better immobile for three weeks than dead.”
“Do you expect a ‘thank you’, is that what this is?”
“Might be nice if we’re all going to be friends now.”
“God, you’re insane.”
Ben, who'd been watching the exchange like a tennis match and figuring it was best to remain silent raised his eyebrows in silent agreement at the statement.
“That’s what could happen to a ‘loose cannon who’s finally having original thoughts.’”
Juniper opened her mouth to protest, then shut it. She didn’t feel bad about that particular slight, but it was a perfect indication that she needed to be more careful with what she said - for now, anyway. She was grateful she’d kept Bradley and Stacey’s details vague.
McCone tore his eyes from her to address Ben. “And you, Mr. Hero. You’re in no place to judge me. You wanna know how I fucking got here? I’m you, just a handful of mistakes ahead. I had an ego and caught enough bad luck. I thought I was strong and above all this- like you. I got offered a deal by the big man on campus after twenty-five days. I said 'no.' He didn’t like that, he doubled down, another no, he tripled down, sent two other Hunter teams after me. I was running on ten minutes of sleep in a week, I was tired, paranoid. They whittled me down to nothing, but I managed another 'no.' And then they killed my husband and daughter in front of me. And I was gone, but I still said no. My parents didn’t survive the next day, and then I realized they’d just keep going. And I couldn’t win. And so I took the deal. And here we are.”
Juniper inhaled sharply. She hadn’t expected that, and suddenly Ben’s reaction to the brother-in-law comment made sense. He must’ve said something about it on the plane in the dead audio.
Ben was silent for a while, absorbing. “So… why throw in with me, then? I mean if they built you back up to this. You’ve gotta have some loyalty.”
“I don’t. It’s just going through the motions after a while. You’re already growing a better army than I ever did. You could take us all the way to crush that fucker. You said yourself. I’m on my own side. I just like that to be the winning one.”
“And you still expect us to believe you won’t kill us on a whim?” Juniper asked.
McCone laughed. “Junie, if I had wanted to kill either of you, you’d be dead already. You’ve given me about twenty opportunities. Each.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife- not just any knife- Destiny.
Juniper shot Ben a half-frantic, half-incredulous look at the concept that he either hadn't disarmed McCone or let himself get pickpocketed, and the man in question patted his pockets equally frantically for a moment until he realized they were empty. The latter, then. That made things a little better. It still made her wonder if Ben getting the jump on him had been McCone playing weak, though. Maybe his falling unconscious had been fake, too.
“Relax,” McCone admonished again. He twirled Destiny in one hand so he could hold the hilt out to Juniper.
Juniper took it as fast as she could, and she was a fair bit disappointed when McCone moved his fingers fast enough on the release that she didn’t nick him in the process. She reached over to pass Ben Fate so they were both armed, and the man immediately took it and pointed it at McCone for good measure.
McCone looked between them. “Have I earned enough trust now?” When he was met with silence, he turned his attention back to Ben. “We’ve got to work on your physical awareness. I got that back when we were waiting in the doorway.” He looked at Juniper and pointedly ignored Ben gawking and attempting to formulate a response. “And you, at least move to the wall. I could’ve been bluffing before.”
She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest and remained where she was. “Right. So closer to you. Who I know could snap my neck. Or use the knife I didn’t know you had. Or put me through the glass. Or-”
McCone paid her list no mind and merely just looked back at Ben and motioned at her as she went “See? Mental and physical awareness. Thinks multiple options through thoroughly and takes the most preferable and probably safest route.” He turned back to her. “That’s my girl.”
Juniper snapped her mouth shut again, not sure whether she should be offended at the compliment, having played right into his hand, the fact that he ruled the dead drop as ‘safest and preferable’, or the fact that he might’ve been trying to sow some doubt and uncertainty between her and Ben. Or maybe he was just trying to bury his own admission about his past under grandstanding. “Pissing us off isn’t doing you any favors.”
McCone shrugged. “I just want you two to be at your best if we’re gonna be a unit. "
“Thought about all this real hard the last few hours, huh?” Ben asked.
“Oh, absolutely, Sweetheart,” McCone agreed. “The Network’s crazy, but I’m crazier. And now they’ll find that out the hard way.” He extended a hand to Ben, and Ben stared at it for a while.
Juniper found herself not blaming him again. This felt, pure and simple, like a deal with the Devil. And they were already backed in a corner as it was.
Ben finally ripped his eyes away from McCone's hand and searched the other man's face for something. After a while, he made a point to not shake his hand, but let out a resigned sigh. "The second this shit goes sideways, I'm dropping you. That is a threat and a promise."
McCone's answering smile was near diabolical- and the other two just hoped that was directed at Killian. “Long live Ben Richards, Long live the Revolution.”
