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Chapter Text

It had been three days since the Irishman had seen any sign of animal life, let alone human, when spotted the hitchhiker. The road he was on was barely more than a dirt track, and for miles around there was nothing but sand. He felt like he was, fuck, in one of those fucking movies, where the guy tells his girlfriend he hates sand. Old movies now. Long time gone. That was when he saw the guy sat by the side of the track with his thumb out.

He had a sword over his shoulder and a round, soccer ball-shaped object at his feet. When he got closer, the Irishman realised it was a head.

What the hell, he had to slow down for that, right? He had enough guns taped around the car for one weird bastard with a sword to be child’s play. Had to at least find out what he wanted. Once he put a bullet in the guy, he could just leave the body there, no need to bury it. Eventually, a vulture would find it, and it’d be part of that, Christ, what was it? The Circle of Life, yeah, that. He was in a nostalgic mood today, it seemed. Maybe that was why he stopped.

“Need a ride?” he called to the man, who looked up at him with dark eyes, glinting with an odd light.

The man smiled, slowly, almost baring his teeth. The smile turned into a yawn. He stood up, and the Irishman realised he was taller than he’d thought, a long, lanky kind of bastard, but pure lean muscle all through, you could tell. He looked Japanese, at a guess, with long, straggly dark hair that fell across his face. One side of his head was buzzed short. He was wearing red faux leather from head to toe, including his boots. Oh, and the big fuckoff sword. That thing. Noticing the Irishman looking, the man gave another toothy grin, massive dimples out of joint with his general vibe. He gave the sword a few showy spins in one hand, and sheathed it in one fluid movement.

He still hadn’t replied, though, unless Face Journies counted. The Irishman felt the need to clarify; “You understand English, right?” His Japanese was rusty, but he was willing to embarrass himself, with nobody else around to witness it.

The man laughed. “I don’t understand anything.” He paused, then added quickly, “But yes, I speak English.” He had a strong accent, and he spoke slowly, purposefully, with a dramatic flutter of his fingers as he did. He gave little twitches with his hands and his face when he wanted to emphasise something.

“Alright, cool.” The Irishman nodded. He was bored, and honestly, bloody lonely about now, after this long in the car alone. “Pop the sword in the back, an’ I’ll let you ride for a little while. If you fancy the sound of that. No games, mind. You'll bite a bullet quick if you try messin’ me around.”

The man thought about it. It was obvious he was thinking about it, because he thought about it with his face - in fact, with his whole body, mulling it over for longer than it should have taken. You could be forgiven for thinking he was slow, but the Irishman could tell that was a facade. The stranger spoke slowly, and moved deliberately, but he had quick eyes, and besides, his hands had moved fast enough when he was toying with the blade. It didn’t take a severed head at his feet to tell you he was dangerous, though the presence of one did clear things up a hell of a lot.

“That sounds good,” the man said eventually, scooping up the severed head in his hands. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, do you have bag for this? Need to deliver it to client.”

Another hitman. That was fair enough. It also meant he was unlikely to make a move without payment. Unless he was a total nut, but he didn’t seem one. No, he seemed perfectly aware of what he was doing, and that was what put the Irishman on edge.

“Hold on,” he said, fishing about in the back briefly, before tossing the man a cooler bag. “Stop it goin’ funny, yeah?”

“No, it’s okay,” the man said, as if it were obvious. “I actually embalmed it before I set off. Too many flies in desert. Don’t like.” His English was inconsistent, in turns fluent and broken. The Irishman figured he understood a lot more than he wanted to let on. “Thank you.” He put the head in the bag and zipped it, and tossed the sword on the backseat unthinkingly. Like it was some toy he didn’t need right now. “For the ride, too.”

“You got a name, pal?” The Irishman asked, as the guy got in the passenger seat, and started to adjust the seat.

“I have, yes,” the man replied, excited. “Do you?” He looked genuinely worried at the idea his driver might not.

The Irishman rolled his eyes. “Call me Finn.” Short, sweet. Easy to remember. Also the name of a notorious assassin known as ‘the Demon’ but that was neither here nor there. When asked, he tended to claim ignorance, and he had a youthful enough face to fool most people. He looked mostly innocent, without his work paintjob.

This guy? Didn’t. He had a fuckoff giant sword for a start.

“Nakamura,” the guy replied, leaning his head against the window. That answered the Japanese question.

“Where you headed to, Nakamura?”

The guy smiled, a glinting, wolfish smile. “The Trace,” he said, and Finn’s heart sank. For fuck’s sake.

He had to go pick up a total crazy, who believed in the fucking Trace Italian. Fucking hell.

Still, it’d kill the hours between here and the pub, if nothing else.

-

By the time they stopped in the evening, all he knew about Nakamura was that he didn’t talk much unless you prompted him, and that however strong his actual grasp on English was, he had a wry sense of humour that would probably have been much funnier if he didn’t laugh at all his own jokes. Despite this, he wasn’t frustrating. He actually seemed quite likeable regardless. Batshit insane, mind you, but the kind you could get along with, not the kind that you needed to put down like a mad dog. He was alright, in his weird little way. Not the worst company ever.

When they got out of the car, Nakamura yawned, stretching his long arms and legs like an overly dramatic cat. He was one of the taller Japanese guys Finn had met in his life, not to mention one of the weirdest motherfuckers he'd met in general. It was less the eccentricity than the calmness, how composed he seemed in his strange world. Made sense he was a Trace fanatic. Maniacs like that always had some cold steel inside of them. It was what kept them going.

“You hungry?” Finn asked. He'd been raised a good Irish lad, you had to be hospitable, even to fucking Trace wankers with fuckoff giant swords. “Got some instant noodles if you want.”

Nakamura scoffed. “I hate instant noodles. That is not Japanese…not good food. But I... appreciate it. You want to make me feel at home, right?”

Finn shrugged. “We're both a ways from home, to be sure. Though my home doesn't exist now. Flooded.”

“Likewise,” his travelling companion agreed. “Earthquakes, volcanoes…totally nuts. And the war.”

The war. That had made the world a wasteland. Still going on, in certain corners. It came down to factions, with their hired killers, duking it out. The assassins, for their part, tried to stay impartial. When not contracted to fight, they largely kept themselves perfectly civil, no matter what side or sides they were contracted with. If you understood perfectly civil to mean ‘rioted and went rogue only a couple of times a month’, you had it.

It really wasn't so bad anymore. Things had settled down, and Finn was making a tidy living from it. By the look of things, so was Nakamura.

“You over here on business too?”

Nakamura nodded. “Same line of work as you, right? I noticed all the guns in your car.” He pulled a face.

Finn gave a vague shrug, as he set up his portable stove. “I know how to use a knife, and I ain't half bad in a punch-up, if that face is your way of judging me.”

“Ah - no.” Nakamura gave an apologetic grimace. “Bullets hard to find. One day, they run out. I get ready for this.” He tapped the hilt of his sword. “Train hard with it.”

“I studied in Japan once,” Finn said. “We mighta crossed paths in the field way back.”

“Oh? You speak Japanese?” Nakamura's eyes glinted with mischief.

Finn groaned. “ A little bit. Not well .”

“Hey, that's good.” Nakamura gave a round of applause. “Better accent than my English.”

Finn shifted, embarrassed. “Nah. You're doing good. I think I'm harder to follow than you, very Irish and all. Hey, you ever need me to slow down, just tell me.”

“I'm good. Thank you.” Nakamura smiled, a genuine sort of smile, rather than the predatory grin he'd displayed thus far. “What flavour instant noodles?”

“Beef, I think.”

“I eat beef. Thank you.”

He complained the whole time he was eating. Finn had to threaten to shoot him to shut him up. Utterly unfazed, he laughed raucously, and Finn found himself laughing too.

He didn't mention the Trace. Didn't want to bring it up, or bring the mood down. He also figured that if he got to know his passenger better, said passenger would take being called a complete fucking loon more peaceably.

The Trace wasn't real, but it had killed enough people. If Nakamura wanted to join that list, that was on him. Finn wasn't about to argue. You couldn't argue with Trace wankers. They believed. Finn was almost jealous of their conviction.

So he said nothing. They kept on chatting inanely, and very little of importance was said by either. The darkness stretched on above them, and the world kept turning, while human life ticked down into its closing hours, heading toward a final exit.

No salvation. No hope. No Trace.

Only an ending coming nearer and nearer. Only finality and inevitable conclusion.

-

They set off early the next morning, as it started to get light. Nakamura kept yawning until about noon. He didn't like being cooped up much, Finn was learning, and he spent a lot of time adjusting his seat and manically winding the window up and down, sticking his head out into the wind like an excitable dog.

“Jesus, are you always this bad?” Finn glanced over at his passenger and frowned. Going stir crazy himself was one thing, putting up with this shit was an entirely different beast. He didn't want to fuck up the car right now.

“Only when I have an audience,” Nakamura replied, with a jackassed smirk.

Why wasn't Finn surprised? For fuck's sake. He just had to have offered a lift to the most dramatic, performative cunt this side of the desert. Finn rolled his eyes and kept driving, blanking Nakamura completely. If he didn't feed into the attention seeking, hopefully his passenger would just get bored and dial it back. And he did, to a point. He leant his head against the window and let his mouth hang open like a goldfish. Though he seemed relaxed, his fingers were drumming a rhythm on the seat that told you he was both awake and far more alert than he looked. Finn almost wanted to pull a gun on him to see what would happen, but he had more common sense than to start a fight for no gain. Even with the sword out of reach, Nakamura was so obviously dangerous. It'd be interesting to see him in action, but not so interesting that Finn desperately wanted to put himself in the firing line.

He'd wait for an opportunity to observe if one ever came around.

As it happened, he didn't have to wait long.

Chapter Text

They were passing through dangerous territory now, and both of them were on high alert. It was strange to see Nakamura go from pulsing with offbeat energy to…guarded, wary, on the lookout. Every couple of hundred metres there was a burnt out vehicle or upended truck. Some looked like they had been there a while. Others looked very, very recent. This area changed hands almost routinely. The road still had mines buried under the surface. But if you went off road, the sand got looser and it was harder to drive, and you were more vulnerable to attack.

What made the area truly dangerous, however, were the remnants of the more lethal weapons from the earlier stages of the war. Various companies sent scavengers out on contracts to retrieve parts of them. Finn had met a few of them, and they were universally not people to be crossed.

Evening drew on. Finn kept driving. He didn't want to risk stopping. They would get through the wreckage, and after that, it was less than a full day's drive to the pub. After that, he would part ways with this Trace fanatic, he had decided. The company had been nice, sure. But he went no further. He'd pick up another contract and head out again. Nakamura would carry on his pointless search, and probably die in the process, which was a shame, but inevitable.

Finn was a survivor. He didn't intend to get swept up in dumb fucking shit. He intended to make it through another day, another month, another year. Keep on going. No looking back.

“What's that up ahead?” Nakamura pointed at something through the front windscreen. Finn squinted.

There was movement. Something up ahead — fuck, mechs. It was rare to see a functional mech these days. Someone must have cobbled them together, repairing the broken pieces, and building themselves a tidy little army. Glancing around, he registered more of them, crawling out from the hidden places in the wreckage. None of them were overly large, the tallest probably about eight feet, but he recognised the workmanship. A sinking feeling made itself known in his gut.

He reached down by the side of his seat for his shotgun. There was a lass out there in sore need of a couple rounds to the gut. “I’m gonna try step on it,” Finn said. “But, in case shit hits the proverbial, there’s a gun under your seat. I know who fixed up these mechs.” Oh, did he know her. They went back. There was history.

All the way back to Ireland.

He’d fucking trained her. He knew what she was capable of.

“Out of the car!” A voice called out. A woman hopped down from an overturned school bus, with a detonator in her hand. Her long red hair was ridiculously well-cared for, considering they were in the middle of an actual wasteland. But then, Becky had always had her priorities, and as she’d said once, looking like a badass bitch was one of them. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

“Awright, Becky?” Finn called. He saw her tense, and her expression sour. She could glower for Ireland. If they’d still had Olympics, Becky Lynch could have competed in ‘death glaring’, were that even a sport. “Been a while.”

“That you, Bálor?” Becky scoffed. “You think that’s gonna make a difference? Really? Cute. Out. Now.”

Finn looked at Nakamura, who had reclined his chair back and closed his eyes, clearly intending to sit this one out. “Oi, none of that. I’m giving you a ride off my own back. You gotta pay your way somehow.”

“It seemed personal,” Nakamura replied, shrugging. “I thought I would leave you two catch up.”

“Who else you got in there, Finny boy?” Becky called, detonator in one hand, pistol in the other.

“Pull your weight,” Finn growled. Nakamura blinked, and gave an exaggerated sigh. He reached in the back for his sword. “That’s not gonna- get a gun.”

“Sword better.”

“No it really isn’t.”

“Sword cooler ,” Nakamura retorted, winding the window down and climbing out, onto the roof of the truck. Stood up top, he unsheathed the sword. Finn closed his eyes and waited for the shooting to start. Crazy, crazy bastard. Why did the dude he’d picked up on a whim have to be such a stark raving nutter? Why was this his life?

He heard Becky laugh. “You get yourself a fruitcake friend, eh Finny? Hey there, mate. Dunno if you know what year it is, but let me spell it out for you.” She pulled back the hammer on her gun, aiming it at the idiot standing up top. “Stand down, and you can walk away from this without me having to hurt a hair on your pretty little head. You copy?”

Nakamura yawned. “Can we do this in the morning? It’s late. Desert cold at night. Finn has instant noodles, you want?”

“They’re not yours to offer, you jammy little gobshite-”

“They taste like shit . You two, white people. Like that kind of thing. Just thinking.”

Becky cackled. “I like him. He’s funny. Shame, really.” She gave an apologetic smile. “See you around. And by around, I mean everywhere, ‘cause I’m blowing you cunts to kingdom come.” She pressed the detonator.

Nothing happened.

Laughter from on top of the car. Finn stuck his head out of the window to see what was going on. He saw Nakamura, with a little beeping piece of tech between his fingers.

“Signal blocker,” Nakamura chuckled. “Activated it just now. No detonation, no mechs. Just you. And me. And Finn, but he say ‘Nakamura, pull your weight. Earn your keep’. I do that.” He walked along the truck, hopping from the roof to the bonnet, and landing in a crouch, sword held out behind him. He glanced at Finn and nodded.

Finn laughed at the insanity of it all. This was a ridiculous plan. He had an entire guy, fuckoff giant sword and all, just perched on his car like some fucking ornament or like, a church gargoyle, except with a sword and waiting to strike. Becky Lynch had a gun, and was about to pull the trigger, so Finn did the thing.

He stepped on the gas.

Becky fired, and missed, the bullet glancing off the body of the car. She cursed, and ducked behind one of her useless mechs, still pressing the detonator. Infuriated, she cast it aside, and came back out with her gun, shooting repeatedly at the tires. She hit one, and the truck careened wildly, arcing toward her and crashing into the mech she had been hiding behind. Finn wrestled with the wheel, trying to get the car back under control.

Nakamura was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, Finn thought he must have slipped off the bonnet and gone under the wheels. Then he caught sight of him, a few feet away, examining one of the mechs with what seemed to be real curiosity.

The sword sang, and the head came off.

Both Becky and Finn stared. Neither of them had expected that. So the sword was made of something very, very strong, and very sharp indeed.

“You don’t have enough bullet to waste,” Nakamura said, with the same slow precision as always. “I have enough sword to last all day. Special. Got it for Christmas. Santa.” He seemed completely sincere, flashing a grin that was reminiscent of a hyperactive child. Well, he did believe in the Trace, so Father Christmas wasn’t too much of a reach. “You seem nice. I like your hair.” Finn really, really couldn’t believe this guy. He was absolutely insane.

Becky lowered her gun. “How did you know I was out of bullets?”

“You didn’t shoot straight away. You hoped detonator would work instead. I figure not too many bullet left.” Nakamura shrugged loosely. “Are we done, now? Tired. Can’t be bothered chopping up all your mechs. You work hard on them.” He twisted his sword playfully in his hands. “Well?”

Finn got out of the car, levelling the shotgun at Becky. “I’ll put the stove on,” he said. He gave her an old-times sort of grin. “Fancy a cuppa?”

Becky was crazy, for sure, but not crazy enough to keep on a fight she knew was lost. Not when she knew she could get something out of it. Finn would have to keep an eye on any valuables he had lying around. He also knew if she got hold of any of the other weapons from the truck, she’d immediately begin her attacks again. So he didn’t want her anywhere near the car at all.

He put the stove on. He saw Nakamura smiling, that big grin with dimples that honestly made you want to kick him in the face. Bastard.

Still, you had to admit he’d handled that one well. Finn had figured he was good at what the pair of them did. He hadn’t expected him to be that good.

Of course the bastard was.

He put the tea on.

Nakamura, predictably, complained.

-

So this? Was awkward. Becky sat on one side of the stove fire, glaring furiously and picking at her food. Finn sat opposite, shotgun on his lap, watching her intently for any movement. Just in case he had to blast some lead into her. Meanwhile, either genuinely oblivious or playing the fool as always, there was Nakamura, grinning away with this blithe ignorance. He was humming cheerfully, but then, he was also polishing his sword. Once again, he was clearly far more watchful than he wanted to appear.

He was either ignorant of the awkwardness, or aware of it and revelling in it, when he asked chirpily, “So, old friends, right? Both Irish?”

“Doesn't mean we're friends, ya dumb cunt,” Becky snapped. “Jesus, Finn. Where'd you find this one?”

Finn sighed. “Picked him up yesterday. He's…a handful. Just giving him a ride far as the pub.” He fixed Nakamura with a look, daring him to say more. His passenger nodded, but stayed quiet.

“Fair enough,” Becky replied. “Just like you to fall in with some crazy Japanese. Hey, sword bloke, you ever hear of Bullet Club?” Now Nakamura looked interested, and Finn wanted to shoot Becky there and then, shut her up. Lot of people were still mad about the things Bullet Club had done. She pointed at him, chuckling. “He founded them.”

“They kicked me out a long while since,” Finn retorted, defensively. He looked at Nakamura, who was mouthing something to himself inaudibly.

“...Demon. That you?” He was frowning. Finn rested his hand on his gun, watching closely for the next move.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I'm the daft cunt who plays dress-up and cuts people's throats. If you got a problem with that, we can part ways here.”

After a moment, Nakamura laughed. “You are being very presumptuous. I don't much care about what happened in Japan anymore. Water under bridge.” He finished polishing his sword, and twirled it from hand to hand ostentatiously, then sheathed it. “What's the story with you two, anyway?”

“I taught her combat class,” Finn replied. “An’ this is how she repays everything I ever did for her. You're a grade A bitch, Becky Lynch.”

She scoffed. “Oh, sure, I'm grateful. Really appreciate your input. You taught me to survive, no matter what. That's all I'm doing. Right, mate?” She appealed to Nakamura. “I just thought you ought to know who you're running with. What he did in your country. That's all.” She flashed a grin at Finn. “I'm not doing anything you wouldn't, Bálor.”

She'd got him there. He wanted to claim the high ground, because he wasn't scraping through trash. But looking at Becky, you couldn't deny she was doing well. Just because she'd done it in isolation, cobbling together bots out of bits and pieces, you couldn't deny she was doing exactly what Finn had taught her. Surviving. By any means necessary.

“Don't think I got your name,” Becky was saying. “What was it he called you, Nakawhatsit?”

“Steve Jones,” Nakamura replied, deadpan. Finn shook his head, while Becky blinked, baffled. Nakamura burst out laughing.

“He thinks he's funnier than he is,” Finn said, by way of explanation.

“Getting that impression,” Becky agreed.

“Everyone's a critic. ” Nakamura pulled a face, which twisted through a few other odd faces. “Nakamura. Not Steve. Was messing with you.” He snickered like a child. “Am amateur comedian.”

Becky raised her eyebrows, but she was actually smirking. “Huh. And where are you headed to, after the pub, Nakamura? You off on your comedy tour?”

“Ha, no. Funny.” Finn tensed preemptively, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his hands. He knew what was coming next, and didn't want to hear it. “I'm going to find the Trace Italian.”

“You're fuckin’ with me,” Becky looked at Finn, and cackled. “Trust your fuckin’ luck, Finny boy. You found yourself a fuckin’ Trace wanker. That's just like you.”

“Leave it,” Finn warned, to both of them alike. “Let's drop the subject. Okay?” In his experience, it wasn't wise to antagonise anyone nuts enough to believe in the Trace. He'd seen just a little of what Nakamura could do. While he was certain he could dispatch the maniac in due course, he really couldn't be bothered.

“Just a job,” Nakamura replied, calmly. “No big deal.”

“Listen, son,” Becky waved a maddened hand. “You do you, right. Whatever. But it ain't good business sense to take a gig like that.”

Nakamura shrugged. “Maybe. But it's the job I've got. Good money.”

“Rather you than me,” Becky scoffed, but sounded grudgingly respectful. “When you're pushing up the daisies, that's on you.”

“We'll see,” Nakamura replied coolly. He gave a lazy smile.

“It's late,” Finn said. “I'll take first watch.” He eyed Becky. She flashed a sardonic smile his way. “I'll wake you in a few hours, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, putting his sword aside and rolling over to sleep. “Night Finn, night Becky. Sweet dreams.”

“Night, pal,” Finn replied. He watched Becky coldly, and she scowled. She stalked off to the overturned school bus, clambering inside. Lights coming from the bus. Finn watched, gun in his lap, waiting.

Nakamura started to snore.

-

They took their watches, and the night passed peacefully enough. Morning came, with the dawn sunrise and with Becky waltzing up again, this time with beers.

“Mornin’, lads,” she called. “Fancy a spot of day-drinking before you head off on your merry way?”

“I could go for one,” Finn admitted. “Been good seeing you, Becky.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Becky shrugged. “Your friend's interesting.” She pointed at Nakamura, who was stretching, jumping up and down erratically, and shaking his whole body in turn.

“Yeah, well. He's definitely something.”

“You gonna just leave him at the pub? ‘Cause I know you, Finn. You're intrigued.” Becky passed him his beer; he took a hearty swig. “Have to do this again, sometime. Next time, it'll be you at gunpoint, though, I promise you that.” She offered him a toast. Their bottles clinked together.

“To old times sake.”

She choked on her beer. “You're getting sentimental in your old age, son. See you when I see you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She shuddered. “Pleasantries over. I almost had a lump in my throat. Enough of that soppy bollocks, aye. We're even, Bálor. We're done.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied. Becky nodded, and walked off with her beers.

“Hey, Nakamura, you want one?” she called. Finn watched her, sipping his beer, and headed back to the truck.

They'd make the pub by early afternoon at this rate.

His part in this story would be over.

Assuming things went to plan.

Chapter Text

He was on edge for a while after parting from Becky, just in case she changed her mind about completely fucking them over. Nakamura was calmer today, nursing the beer Becky had given him. His attention was clearly occupied by something. Given that Finn likely had a few short hours left in his delightful company, he decided to ask the million dollar question. 

“Listen, man. You seem…I mean, weird as balls, but like, you're not dumb. You know the Trace Italian isn't…it's not real. So why-”

Nakamura whistled through his teeth. “Ding dong. You are wrong.” His eyes gleamed. “It's real. Got proof.” His fingers twitched and flickered, a thumb drive in between them. “Blueprints, coordinates. Proof the Trace is real.” A shiver ran down Finn's back, at the cold certainty in his passenger's voice. “Man I killed had it.” He fixed Finn with a serious look. “Mr Triple H hire me. He believe it's true. He pay me to believe it too.”

Finn stared. “Why are you telling me this?” 

Nakamura shrugged. “Bored. Why not? Nobody will ever believe you, and if you try kill me, I destroy the drive.” He put it between his teeth and bit down on it gently, before grinning and vanishing it expertly with a twitch of his long fingers. “Or you could come with. 50-50 split.”

Finn studied his passenger closely, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. He seemed serious, but it was hard to tell with Nakamura. At least, he hadn't broken character yet. “Listen, Nakamura, buddy. I get that you're trying to be nice, I really do, but I'm getting by just fine. I ain't gonna throw my life away like that, okay? Not over this.” He wasn't about to let his personal reasons for skipping this one slip. He liked Nakamura, but not enough to walk with him into hell, or to spill his past carelessly to a man he'd known for two days. “Drop it, alright? We're almost at the pub, you'll find someone crazy enough to join you there. No doubt.”

Nakamura looked like he wanted to say something, but he chose to shut up instead. His fingers tapped an erratic beat on the door of the truck. They continued on in a sullen, stubborn silence. Finn fixed his eye to the fuel gauge, and to the road ahead. Just enough left to make it. He gripped the wheel with white-knuckle tension and pressed on. Briefly, he wondered if he'd upset Nakamura and whether he ought to apologise, but the other man seemed content enough. Not for the first time, Finn wondered how someone could go through what this guy presumably had and come out of it so…uncomplicated. So unconcerned. How did he do it? He made living look so easy, so care-free. Sure, some of that was an act, but he was getting the sense that Nakamura was just like this to a degree. And he didn't understand it at all. 

There'd be no time to find out, he figured, with the pub in sight now. He was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief. His life would be back to normal momentarily. It was almost a shame. He'd miss the company, however weird it was. What could he say, Nakamura was a fun guy. 

The pub, as he knew it, belonged to a man called McMahon, who dropped by occasionally but largely left it to be managed by various employees. One of those managers was the man paying Nakamura for the Trace bullshit. Triple H. That made things interesting. McMahon himself had made his money in arms deals, and was a good man to know for putting you onto hits and contracts. He maintained a private militia, and paid well. As for the pub, the town around it might have been a ghost, but the pub was thriving. It ran on solar power, and received regular deliveries of necessary stock, from alcohol to bullets. War was the only real business in this corpse of a town. Business was good. 

That said, there were still a few farmsteads scattered around. Cattle, corn and potatoes, mostly. Come here at the right time, you could get yourself a prime steak. McMahon supplied the fertilisers that made the land remotely salvageable. Everyone owed that man something, whether they knew it yet or not, and the thing about Vince McMahon was that he expected his payment in full, always. No excuses. No exceptions. 

Fall behind on payments, and he'd draft up a contract of indentured servitude, and you'd have a bailiff over by the end of the week to claim your labour against the money owed. 

To an extent, it disgusted Finn, but he'd pretty much accepted it was how things worked round here. He pulled up outside the pub, and did his usual; rigged the truck to blow if anyone interfered with it. Nakamura watched from outside the vehicle with his cooler bag, waiting for Finn before they headed into the pub together. The doorman checked their membership cards, and grudgingly let them both in, through tacky, saloon-style doors. Finn smiled grimly at his companion. Nakamura returned the expression, and they both stepped in. 

Inside, there was a predictable amount of chaos. Finn focused on those he knew, the ones he had marked as dangerous people, to be avoided. For instance, the big man at the bar, with the wild beard and the haunted, horrifying eyes; he went by Braun Strowman, and he was a true monster among men. If half the stories of his brutality were true, he was someone to avoid. But he was off the books now, so pretty much alright aside from enjoying intimidating people far too much. Finn had drunk with him a couple of times, but those nights were a total blur. As it turned out, Strowman had the alcohol tolerance of several lesser men combined, and Finn was convinced if he weren't Irish he'd have died because of Strowman's sheer insanity. And of alcohol poisoning. 

The poker table also had three blokes he knew sat at it, scamming some fresh-faced newbies out of their cash. Rollins, Ambrose, and Reigns. Known also as the Shield. Rollins spotted Finn and waved him over to join the game. It seemed friendly but Finn had seen them do some serious shit before now. Getting close to them was just putting yourself in the firing line later. He gave a polite half-nod, as if to say he'd be over later. Rollins opened his palms, and his smile was truly a vicious thing. What a lovely man. 

He recognised another guy too, who he'd seen around a great deal. It was a man with shoulder length brown hair, who carried his reputation on his shoulders with pride. He wasn't a tall guy, about Finn's own height, but he had an aura around him you had to respect. Nakamura evidently recognised him too, and he spread his arms open wide in a hug. 

The man’s face dropped. “Oh no. Oh fuck no, not you.”

“AJ! Hey! How are you, man?”

AJ Styles had the look of a man with many, many regrets. “Hi, Shin.” He allowed himself to be hugged, with great reluctance, and what seemed like a grudging fondness. “How've you been, buddy?” He glanced over at Finn. “Finn Bálor, in the flesh. Hey there. You hanging around with this one now?”

“Just giving him a ride,” Finn replied noncommittally. 

Nakamura - or Shin, apparently - nodded enthusiastically. “Finn's my new friend.”

AJ glanced between them and leaned in to Finn. “Word of advice, never let him sit behind you while you're driving.”

“Oh, that . AJ, you still upset?” Nakamura grinned innocently. 

AJ gritted his teeth. “You stabbed me in the back while I was driving. I nearly crashed the car. Also, you stabbed me.”

Nakamura frowned, then beamed broadly. “I told you, AJ, was an accident. ” He winked conspicuously at Finn, and tittered. AJ sighed heavily. “Sword slipped .”

“Whatever you say, man. You're lucky I can't be bothered holding a grudge.” He shook his head in tired bafflement. “Good to see you in one piece, anyway.”

“Ha, yes. Good to see you too.” Nakamura slapped AJ on the back, and the other man flinched. “I gotta go sort some business. Be right back.” He darted off to the bar, to get the attention of management. 

Finn shared a look with AJ, who seemed beyond tired. “Is he always like this, by the way?”

“Shin? Yeah. Literally always.” 

“What's that short for?” Finn asked, curiously. 

AJ stared. “You offered him a ride without knowing who he is?” 

“Yeah, you know. Driving for days. You run across some nutter with a sword, you think hey, may as well stop.” Finn pulled a face. “‘sides, he's good for a laugh, right?”

“Shinsuke,” AJ replied. “His name's Shinsuke Nakamura, and you literally can't take your eye off him for a second before something- oh God what is he doing? Is that a severed head on the bar?” Nakamura had produced the head from its bag and just placed it on the bar top. The barman recoiled, while Strowman started to laugh uncontrollably. Finn couldn't believe it. And yet, he really, really could. 

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “Jesus. He ain't half one for hogging attention.”

“Tell me about it,” AJ chuckled. “Still, when he's of a mind to cooperate, there's nobody better to have on your side. He just isn't always exactly…reliable, these days. You gotta watch out, round him.”

“It doesn't really matter now,” Finn began, watching the events at the bar closely. Triple H had come out and ushered Nakamura into a side office. The poker group also seemed to find the whole thing as hilarious as Strowman did. They were doing impressions of Nakamura's odd, jumpy mannerisms, and chortling about it, while the local babyface they were scamming shifted uncomfortably. After all, a man had just put a severed head on the bar. What wouldn't you be uncomfortable about? 

“Oh? You parting ways, then?” AJ, for his part, did actually sound interested in the situation. “Can't blame you. There's only so much Shinsuke Nakamura anyone can put up with. It's weird, though. I thought you two must have already met back in Japan. That's where I ran into him, you know, after they put the Bullet Club in my lap. He used to run CHAOS, you know? Before that, RISE. You worked for them on some contracts, didn't you?”

That…rang a lot of bells. “He didn't exactly hire me in person. It was all through third parties, like. And I was under a different name then, an’ I looked about twelve. Plus I don't exactly recall him using a fuckoff giant sword back in the day.”

“Got harder to get any ammo at all, if you weren't in the Club,” AJ explained. “So he started with all of that shit. Steadily got weirder and weirder. I guess that's how he deals with the war. It was rougher in Japan, on all of us, right? We're all what we became out there.” 

“I was an arsehole, back then,” Finn muttered. “They were right to oust me, when ya really think. Apparently I didn't even pay enough attention to other people to learn who ran the other merc outfits. You were the better man for the job.”

“Ousted me anyway,” AJ replied. “Lost a duel to Shin, actually, and the Club said they lost faith in my leadership. Course, that was just an excuse, Kenny Omega looking for his own opening. They threw me out without looking back. God, am I glad they did now though. I've got a good thing here, for far less work. Crazy world, though, where the guy who basically got you driven out of Japan calls you up to ask if you wanna partner. That's what happened, you know. Who knows why Shin does anything? Don't think even he does sometimes.” AJ gestured to the bar. “I'll buy you a drink. As one former leader of Bullet Club to another, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Finn agreed. “Crazy world.” 

He was thinking how surreal it was, three ex-merc leaders, levelled to ordinary hitmen, and drinking in a bar like anyone else. That was evidence if anything that the war was petering out, skilled professionals reduced to scrabbling for whatever contracts were left. He let AJ buy him a drink, anyway. Japan was the past, and he bore no ill will to the man who'd replaced him. Like AJ, he was as glad to get out as anyone. 

The office doors opened, and Nakamura exited followed by tall, imposing, bearded man in a suit. Triple H had a solid reputation, that went back a long way. He'd been an enforcer for some time. Now, he was a manager. He shook Nakamura's hand firmly, and approached the bar, handing the barman a sign. The barman nodded, and put it up among a host of other Rules We Shouldn't Need To Have like ‘NO gouging eyes while on the premises’, ‘If you want to kill someone remember to take 5 mins to THINK about your own chances first’ and ‘Members ONLY NO EXCEPTIONS’. 

It read ‘All severed body parts MUST be kept in a bag at all times’.

“Did you have that printed just now?” Finn asked, maybe a little bit too entertained. 

A big, hefty hand slapped him on the back. Strowman was in a better mood than usual, or he just liked Finn enough to only wind him rather than actually paste him to the floor. “That's what they did when I tried to gouge out Baron Corbin's eyes. You were there, remember? You hit him with a barstool.”

“I was drinking with you that night, pal. I was present in every way except mentally.”

“Lightweight!” Strowman teased. Finn scoffed. 

“Mate, I had enough booze in me to fell a horse. You're a regular fuckin’ screwball if you think you're statistically representative of the general population.”

“True enough,” Strowman replied, proudly enough. “Hey, barkeep, drink for the good sir responsible for this signage.” He gestured to Nakamura. “On me.” 

Nakamura nodded eagerly, sliding onto a stool and flashing an innocent grin. 

“Don't encourage him, Braun,” AJ called. “He's bad enough as is.”

Strowman tried to fix AJ with one of his trademark Murder Looks, but AJ, in typical fashion, shrugged it off. He didn't let other people bother him with their bluster, on the whole. Finn had seen him lose his temper only a few times. He was practical and steady to a fault, so when his patience got tested, he was more likely to grit his teeth than lose his composure. But when he did lose it with people, there was only one word to describe him as, and that was fatal. To be around. 

“Bálor. My office.” Triple H didn't give the option of declining, just turned and walked off, leaving Finn to follow. He gave the others an aimless shrug; presumably this was about his recent job, potentially it might be regarding a bonus. 

Finn stood awkwardly opposite the manager's desk, while the big man sat down and began to count out stacks of million dollar bills. Inflation had settled now, but the currency was still hardly worth the paper it was printed on. 

“Hear you were a help to our boy Shinsuke,” Triple H said, not looking up from his counting. “It's much appreciated, from all of us here.”

Finn's mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Well, y'know. Just bein’ a good neighbour an’ all that. Do unto others.” He studied the manager's face carefully, trying to gauge a reaction. It was nigh impossible, with this guy. His poker face was legendary. 

“And it's appreciated. I've got an offer to make you. You don't have to take it, but-” He placed box after box of ammunition on the table. “There's this in it for you if you do.”

That was more rounds than Finn would come across potentially in the rest of his life. Whether or not the Trace Italian was real, money was clearly being thrown into this project. It was tempting. 

“What's the job?” Finn asked, keeping his tone carefully level. He didn't want to land Nakamura in the shit for telling him. 

“I know you have a history. I know that'll make it difficult for you. But we need someone else on the ground in this.” Triple H leaned over his desk. “I'm sure you've guessed already, this is about the Trace.”

“No,” Finn replied, immediately. “I won't.”

He saw the manager smile faintly. “I figured. That's why I'm not asking you to go with Nakamura all the way to the Trace itself.” Finn started to question immediately; Triple H hushed him. “Let me finish, Bálor. What I need from you is nowhere near that demanding. Just drive Nakamura where I ask, and after that it won't be your problem anymore.”

“You want me to kill him?” Triple H scoffed. “Sorry, that just sounded dead ambiguous.” 

“My bad. Let me elaborate.” The big man opened a file on his desk and produced a photograph. “I need you to find this man. You'll know him when you see him.”

“This a joke?” Finn pointed at the picture. The man's face was concealed under a decorative mask. “He's hardly gonna be wanderin’ around dressed for Halloween at all hours.”

“You'll know him,” Triple H stated matter-of-factly. “He's 5'6’’, and Mexican. Distinctive tattoos. Not hard to miss. We got some rough sketches what he might look like sans mask. He's a tough little bastard. Name's Rey. You're good at persuading people to work for you. I need you to get him to agree to this. Take him a contract, and get him to write his name. That's all we need you for.”

“Rey. Gotcha. What ya wantin’ the lucky bastard for?” At this point, Finn was genuinely curious about the whole thing. Where it was going. He knew he'd kick himself in the future but he wanted to know more. 

Triple H knew he'd got him, of course he did. He had Finn figured right off. “Sign the contract, and I'll let you have the file. Walk, you can take a box of bullets for your trouble, and another for your silence. But you sign-” He offered Finn the pen. “And it's all yours.”

Finn signed. 

He'd regret this, he knew it. 

Assuming he'd live long enough. 

-

He emerged from the office, Rey Mysterio's file in hand, payment neatly shut up in a steel briefcase. Nakamura seemed to have vanished, which was a little concerning. Finn caught AJ's eye quickly. 

“He's playing on the arcade machines with Sami and Kev,” AJ replied, gesturing broadly. Finn looked over - and yep, there his weird new buddy was, hitting up the fruit machines with two loony Canadians. “Gotta say, man, I'm pretty impressed. You got a skill with him. Shame you two are splitting here.”

“Well, not quite yet,” Finn admitted. “Little ways to go yet.” He raised the briefcase a degree. “Until the job's over.”

AJ seemed relieved. “Good. He needs drive, someone with that common sense to course correct when he gets all…you know.”

“Yeah. Any tips?” 

AJ scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. “He's really goddamn weird for one thing, just putting that out there. An’ his sense of humour sucks. Also he speaks better English than he lets on. In the field…he's smarter than he likes people to think. Real cunning. Stay alert, stay wary. You cover him, he'll cover you, though. And never let him sit behind you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he stabbed you.” Finn snorted. “You guys are chill now, though? How come?” 

“I shot him in the gut and left him to die. Somehow missed anythin’ vital and he waltzed in here again month'n a half later. No point keepin’ on after that. See, with Shin, I figure it wasn't personal. I was just the person there, an’ he felt like seein’ what'd happen. If he'd been trying to kill me, he was more'n capable right then.” AJ sighed, casting a long, baffled look over at his sort-of friend, the man who had stabbed him. “Who knows with Shin? I sure as hell don't. Man's a goddamn mystery.” He paused, and pointed over at Rollins, who was grinning. “Think Seth wants a chat. I'll be over by the fruit machines too if you need me.” With that, AJ walked off to join the weirdo corner. 

Finn watched him go. That was one of the few people here who still had all his marbles. How AJ managed to stay grounded was beyond Finn. You had to admire that. Even if the jammy cunt had nicked your job way back when. No point holding grudges, though, when your main priority should be survival. 

Normally, when you wanted to survive, it was also good practice to avoid Seth Rollins. Bit late for that. Finn headed over, cautiously alert and on edge. 

The other two members of Rollins’ group were playing darts, while he sat there nursing his drink, a neat bourbon. The Irish in Finn was a little disgusted at the choice. Sure, supplies were running low, but they couldn't be completely out of good whisky yet, right? 

Mark that down as one more thing he'd never understand about America. Along with whatever that shit was they called cheese. 

Canned cheese and bad whisky. Unforgivable crimes. 

Of course, he said none of this to Rollins. “How ya doin’, pal? Leave that kid with anythin’, or bleed him dry, didya?”

Rollins laughed darkly. “He'll be fine. Taught him a valuable lesson about knowing when to cut his losses.”

“You're all heart,” Finn replied sarcastically. “What d'you want, Seth?”

Checking to make sure nobody was listening, Seth leaned in. “What did H say? He paid you well, obviously.” He indicated the briefcase. “Fancy sharing with the class?”

“Just backpay for the last few contracts,” Finn said coolly. “Why, you hear anything big in the works?” 

“Matter of fact, I did,” Rollins replied smugly. “You walked in here, after almost six months absence, with Shinsuke Nakamura. Since he showed up, serious cogs have been turning. Which you'd know, if you'd been here. Now you're back too. C'mon, you're killing me.”

“Ran into him out in the arse end of nowhere. Gave him a ride this far. H asked me to drive him a little bit further.” Finn smirked. “Seth, you're talkin’ like a bloody Trace wanker. Mysterious plots and all that.”

“What's the file, then?” Rollins asked, trying persistently to snatch it. 

Rolling his eyes, Finn showed the photo of Rey. “You know anything ‘bout this customer?” 

“Oh, Rey? Sure.” Rollins tossed a peanut into his mouth. “It'll cost you, though.”

“Depends how good your info is,” Finn murmured, conscious of the eyes on them. Strowman, Reigns and Ambrose, Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn… any one of them could overhear something. He wasn't so worried about AJ, knew he was largely reasonable, but any one of the others could see a way to make a quick million and decide the best course of action was to get Finn out of the way. 

“Heard he's got a farm out West,” Rollins replied. He grinned. “Tell you where if you give me the details on this thing. Nakamura's telling people he's looking for the Trace Italian to throw them off the scent.”

“Nope, that's it.” 

“Sure it is. That can't be all. You said it yourself, there ain't some grand conspiracy going on, and we both know that. C'mon Finn,” Rollins pleaded. He too was aware that if they talked for much longer, they'd start attracting attention. He was a total bastard, but evidently not ready to cut Finn out right yet. 

“Yeah, well. I thought it was bollocks too. Shows how much we know. They say there's proof.”

“Like we haven't heard that one before,” Rollins retorted.

“I think it's a crock of shit too. But they're chuckin’ a lot into it, so someone's gotta know somethin’. Plus H doesn't strike me as the kinda guy to fall for shit without some kinda evidence. I've thought about it every which way, an’ it's either a cover they're usin’ for somethin’ bigger, or the real fuckin’ deal.”

“Shit,” Rollins muttered. “Well you're fucking useless. You don't know jack.”

“I'll know more when we find Rey,” Finn promised. “Tell me what you know, an’ I'll consider it an investment, for further updates.”

“If it's worth that much to you, I want more than some scraps of info. I need down-payment now.”

Finn looked around quickly, and flicked the briefcase open. He took one box of bullets out. “This should cover that. Where's Rey hiding out at?”

“Farm out West,” Rollins repeated. “Near some two-bit town called Pennyoak. Town got bombed out few years back. Rubbed off the map.” He grinned smugly. “That do it for you?” 

Finn nodded. “Good enough. How'd you know ‘bout it?” 

“I'm a man of mystery.” Rollins leaned back in his chair with an air of self-satisfaction. “I helped bomb the town, of course. Used gas to flush the residents out, then blew ‘em up. Some of ‘em ran out of town and went hid at the farm. So we rolled up there, three armoured cars of us, and out comes this little fella in that mask you showed. He tells us we're on his land, and he's got every right as a homeowner to blow us all up. I laugh, Dean laughs, Roman laughs. We're absolutely dying, and then he tosses a grenade and takes out the first car. I mean, that threw me a little, but we opened fire. Little bastard got to cover. Second car drives forward, onto a pressure pad -” Rollins mimed an explosion. “Boom. So we stay where we are, shoot at anything that moves. We'd used our big toys on the town. The other cars had the rest of our shit, and they got blown up. Tiny motherfucker comes up under cover of night and disarms everyone. Paid us to get out of town. Normally I'd have buried him, but I had a feeling. So we came to an understanding instead. It was a crazy weekend.”

Killing the majority of a town was more along the lines of war crimes against civilians than a wild lads’ night out, but it wasn't Finn's place to judge. Everyone had done their share of sketchy things. Finn had founded Bullet Club, he really couldn't talk. 

Time was definitely up, at this point. Finn stood up, clapping Rollins on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, pal.”

“You better keep me in the loop,” Rollins warned. 

“Will do, brother,” Finn promised, and headed over to the arcade machines, where an exasperated AJ was trying to explain that these things were programmed so you would lose and not, in fact, sentient or malicious, and so putting a brick through one would just be property damage. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sami was saying. “But there's some inanimate objects that have got souls , and this one's a bastard.”

“That's not- Kevin, please can you get it through your friend's thick, ginger head, that breaking the fruit machine will benefit nobody.”

“It'll come out of our wages, Sam,” Kevin said, shrugging. “You really wanna do this again?”

The again there was worrying, but Finn didn't stick around to hear the rest. Nakamura had settled into a corner and was playing one of the joystick games, where you beat up enemies as Michael Jackson. Finn watched him play through it methodically. 

“You like this kinda thing?” 

“Uh-huh.Like Michael Jackson. Like videogames. This…wow. Awesome, man.”

Finn smiled. He was glad the other man was enjoying himself. His happiness was a  tad infectious. “I'm gonna be drivin’ ya a little ways along the road, you know that, right.”

Nakamura nodded, still focusing intently on the game. He didn't say a word. 

Finn watched him for a minute. “Meet you in the car tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,” Nakamura replied, tongue poking out of his mouth absent-mindedly. 

“I'll uh…see you then, then?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Finn left. 

Chapter Text

There were some general chores that needed doing, things Finn needed to pick up: food, fuel, gas canisters for the stove, the usual kind of thing. Once those errands were run, he stopped for a chat with the bartender, a stout but imposing man nicknamed Samoa Joe. Decent guy. Bit of a temper. He clearly didn't much care for Nakamura's antics. The head on the bar was the cherry on top of a considerable cake of bullshit. 

“See, people laugh it all up,” Joe was saying. “But they forget what a dangerous beast they're dealing with. That's a man who taught himself proper swordplay for the sheer drama. He's a nasty piece of work. I keep saying this. Nobody fucking listens.” He looked at Finn firmly. “You be careful. Friendly warning.”

“Noted,” Finn replied, and downed the rest of his beer. 

He passed the rest of the evening quietly enough. Booked a room for the night and fell into a proper bed. He slept relatively well, nightmares notwithstanding. Gun by his bed, mind you. Knife under his pillow. Overnight, he heard a few gunshots and some scattered smashing noises, but he ignored them and snoozed through. If it was important, he'd find out soon. If not, it could wait until morning.

He was thinking over his plans. This job would be over soon. After that, he'd find himself a couple small-scale contracts. Head out to the ruins of New York, perhaps. Keep on surviving, like he always did. Roll with the punches, whatever came at him. Beyond that, it was futile to plan too far ahead.

The world was too dangerous for daydreaming. The world was too fragile to let go of the day-to-day for even a moment. 

Light had started to filter through the windows, and he was lying flat in bed with only these thoughts for company. Eventually, he hauled himself up and began to pace, distrust mounting. This whole thing stank. He hated that he was personally intrigued. The smartest thing to do would be to get in the car and drive. Learn the lesson Rollins had been giving that kid; cut his losses and run. Why he didn't was beyond him. 

There was a knock at the door. “Hey, Finn?” 

“AJ?” Crossing the room, Finn opened it. AJ was stood just outside. “What's up?”

“Wondering when you'd emerge,” AJ replied. “Sleep well?”

“Ish,” Finn shrugged. “Heard the racket downstairs. You know what that was about?”

AJ grimaced. “Nothing new. Ambrose and Rollins had a disagreement over God knows what. Sami put a brick through the fruit machine. Strowman smashed a glass over his own head to prove how tough he is. The usual.”

“And Nakamura?” 

“Kept on playing that weird game, until some of the glass from the one Sami broke got on him, ruined his high score. Then he took offence and they had a fistfight outside. I say fistfight. You ever seen Shin scrap? Gotta watch for them legs, knees. There's a pro-tip.”

Finn nodded. Sound advice. “He's alright?” 

“‘Course,” AJ scoffed. “Tough as nails, when it comes down to it. Got a sweet black eye. Then again, so's Sami. Saw Kevin earlier and he said two of his buddy's ribs were busted. Haven't spoken to Shin. Think he's probably alright, though.”

“Can't keep some people down,” Finn remarked. He was thinking of Becky. There was someone who never said die. People like that would inherit the earth. 

He scoffed down a couple of cardboardy granola bars, protein-rich and full of raisins. Then he brushed his teeth and headed to the car, where he found Nakamura, doing his erratic stretch routine. AJ was right about the bruise; his face was purple and impressively swollen. Despite this, he was all smiles, wincing a little at the pain. 

“You should see the other guy,” he said cheerfully. 

Finn shook his head in disbelief. “You really are completely spare. Funny in the head.” But he was smiling too, as he got into the car. “Hop in. We're headed West.”

His erstwhile partner-in-crime nodded. “We find Rey, yeah?” 

“Yep,” Finn replied grimly. “Then you and me part ways.”

“Awwww. Breaking my heart.” Nakamura did that odd, toothy grin he sometimes did, a little too wide to be a smirk, but absolutely void of any sincerity or anything but deepest irony. It was a little bit sharkish, when you weren't used to it. 

Joe's warning ran through his mind. He'd bear it in mind for future reference. Now, he started the car and began to drive. 

“If you were on any other road but the one leading to the Trace Italian, I'd stick around,” Finn assured him. “But this? No way, ‘kay? It ain't personal. You're pretty cool, all things said. I just…you get me?”

“Thank you for saying I'm cool,” Nakamura replied, almost glowing with pride. He switched tracks so abruptly it almost gave Finn emotional whiplash. “You don't have to explain, Finn. You don't like the Trace. If you want to tell me, you can. If not, I don't take it personal. You're nice. To me, anyway. I'll be sad when you go, but that's your call. You gotta do what's best for you.”

“Nakamura-” Finn began, wanting to explain, hell, there was a lot to unpack there, a whole suitcase of feelings he'd been completely unprepared for. “I don't know what to say-” You should hate me. I did a lot of bad shit back in Japan. I must have killed people you knew. Why are you fine with any of this? He opened his mouth to ask him these questions, but was cut off by a simple statement. 

“Call me Shinsuke. Or Shin. Whatever. First name terms now, man.”

That took the wind out of Finn's sails. He had nothing left to say to that. “You're a fuckin’ loon, Shin,” he said, shaking his head. And Shinsuke threw back his head and laughed. 

The car ploughed on through the desert, leaving waves of sand in its wake. 

-

They'd been on the road for four hours without incident, just constant driving, when they hit a spot of radio. Someone was broadcasting. It wasn't the usual distress signal either, it wasn't on one of those channels. Instead, it was a music show. Old classics, corny power ballads, and some staticky, fading-in-and-out rock tunes. It had been so long since Finn had heard any music, that it felt like some kind of out-of-body experience. True to established form, Shinsuke sang along. 

“Really, man?” Finn was surprised, more than anything, that the other man knew the words to all these old hits so well. He'd kind of assumed, erroneously, that they would listen to more of their own music. He knew that they had a thriving scene back in the day. Used to bop along to some of the more hardcore stuff when it came on. 

“It's Queen,” Shinsuke replied, point-blank. “They're universal , man .”

Finn couldn't argue with that. He joined in. For a moment, the world seemed sane again. Just two guys, headbanging along on a regular cross-country roadtrip. While it lasted, life was good. 

A few miles on, they passed out of range. The radio crackled uselessly, like some kind of wounded animal. Its absence left an aching hole in Finn's chest. 

After that, they lapsed back into silence. They ate tinned beans that night when they stopped; Shinsuke looked on in horror as Finn made some toast for his, and started to eat. 

“And you say I'm the crazy,” he scoffed. 

Finn took a massive bite of toast, beans going everywhere. “Dunno what you're talking about. This is cuisine. Fine-dining.”

“ Finn- dining,” Shinsuke quipped, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

            “I hate you. So fucking much.”

“ You're just jealous.” He snickered, while Finn groaned. 

“You are nowhere near as funny as you think.”

“I am to me,” Shinsuke said, and there was really no arguing with that kind of logic. Finn couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned what kind of person he was driving. 

He took first watch. 

There was a long way to go yet.

-

The town, Pennyoak, was a tiny dot on an old, backdated map. It didn’t exist on newer versions. Newer maps, though, had markers of radioactivity, no-go zones. So Finn was cross-referencing, hunting down that tiny, almost imperceptible name, and transferring it over to the newer map. They were in an abandoned gas station, almost a quarter of the way to their destination. The pumps had been looted, along with the rest of the place, but Finn was certain he’d stocked up on enough petrol to keep them going. He hoped, anyway. 

The one thing this place did have was candy. A few leftover packets of gummies the looters hadn’t bothered with, looking instead for useful nutrients. Shinsuke gravitated toward them, going through packet after packet, while Finn plotted their route at the counter. It was pretty funny to watch, a guy in all leathers, with a fuckoff giant sword over his shoulders, biting down impatiently on a lollipop rather than waste time sucking it.

“Right, I think I’ve got this,” Finn called. “There’s no real hubs of people between here an’ there, so we should probably be alright. There’s a river, an’ a bridge marked on the map, but who knows if that exists anymore. If the river’s dried out, or if the bridge is good, we can drive it, but if not, we gotta figure something out that won’t take us totally off course. You hear me, man?”

Shinsuke didn’t reply. He crunched his way through another lollipop. 

“You’re driver,” he said eventually, through a mouthful of candy shards. “Your call.”

Something else Finn was learning was that his passenger was not opposed to flat-out ignoring anything he wasn’t directly involved in or enjoying. This was frustrating when you wanted to plan just about anything, because his contribution would consist mostly of nodding and pulling strange faces, which you had to gauge the meaning of because all of a sudden, he didn’t speak a word of English. So that was tiring. 

“Thanks for your help,” he muttered sarcastically. 

“No problem.” Shinsuke beamed, faux-innocent. Honestly, for all that Finn found the guy entertaining, he really wanted to run him the fuck over with his car sometimes. 

“Lazy bastard,” Finn muttered. He finished up the plans regardless of the lack of help. “We'll figure out about the river when we get to it. Even if we have to make a raft.” Shinsuke grunted, from behind one of the shelves. “You done stuffing your face yet? We gotta get moving. It ain't safe to hang around places like this too long.”

Silence. Bloody typical. He started to fold his maps up, when he heard footsteps. He tensed. 

Two sets. Definitely more than one person. Finn reached for his shotgun. 

“Awright, who's there?” He pumped the shotgun loudly. “Come on out.” 

Quiet, then a female voice called out; “We'll kill your friend. Put the gun down.”

“Easy, there,” Finn said gently. “We can figure something out.” 

“Gun, down,” the voice reiterated firmly. “We can see you.”

He looked up, into the camera, and cursed his own stupidity. He should have got them in and out quicker, soon as he had the map he needed, with Pennyoak on. He should have checked the place out. This was on him for not getting it sorted. 

“Who's we?” he asked, setting the gun down on the side. “Okay, done. What do you want?”

Hushed whispers. Handcuffs slid across the floor. “Put these on.”

By now, he had identified two voices. Both young women. One of them was slightly calmer than the other. This was the woman who'd made the initial threat. The second, who had spoken a little more, the most recent sets of instructions, sounded a little bit excited. At the very least, hyped up on adrenaline. 

“Movin’ a bit fast, don't you think ladies?” Finn laughed nervously. “I'd love to help you girls, but I'm gonna need to know you ain't bluffing me. My buddy, he alright?” 

“Sedated. Pretty heavy dose. He's fine.” The first voice said. 

A screen flickered on above Finn's head. He saw an unconscious Shinsuke, visibly breathing. His eyes were wide open, but rolled up. The veins on the side of his neck were an unhealthy blue. There was a knife being pressed into his throat. 

“Jesus. What's to say you haven't just poisoned him?”

“Who do you think we are?” the second voice called out. “Murderous lunatics? Put the handcuffs on already.” 

It seemed to Finn he had a clear choice. He made it right there and then. Took the handcuffs, put them on. Clicked them shut and showed them up to the camera. 

“There we go. You can come out now.”

There was this one, long moment of hesitation, then the screen flickered out. A woman with a tranq gun, and vivid purple hair stood there. She gave an apologetic smile, mouthed the word sorry, and pulled the trigger. All of this so quickly, Finn could do nothing, but fall to the floor clutching his neck. 

For fuck's sake.

Chapter Text

He woke in darkness, on the cold floor of the gas station bathroom. He'd been handcuffed to a pipe. 

His head was killing him. 

“Hey, you're awake,” a low, familiar voice croaked. Shinsuke was sat on the floor a few metres away. The wall was covered with etched tally marks. “I make a mark for every day. You've been unconscious for, huh, looks like months.”

For one, not brief enough moment, Finn almost believed him. Then he saw that shit-eating grin, in the dim-light of their prison, and groaned. “You are such a knob.”

“I don't understand, so I'm just gonna pretend it means good thing. What you say, really, ‘thanks, Shin, for keeping track of the days for us. You're a true friend’.” 

“Cut the crap,” Finn hissed. “How long have I been out for real?” 

Shinsuke shrugged. “Only woke up a minute ago myself. Checked you were okay, then decided to do sweet prank. You believe me, for a second, right?” 

“You really are the worst,” Finn muttered. He manoeuvred himself to a sitting position, arms buckling underneath him, but managing to support his weight. “This is on you. I coulda walked an’ let them kill you, ya know. Bloody shoulda too ‘n all.” He pointed a warning finger at his travelling companion. “Why the fuck did you let this happen?”

“Oh, you know. Thought it would be good bonding experience.” Shinsuke’s tone was bitter and irritable. In the darkened room, his fading bruises from the fight a few days previous made it hard to gauge his expression, masked as it was in swollen purples. But Finn knew he’d definitely struck a nerve. He noticed a livid stain on the wall; he noticed fresh blood on his travelling companion’s knuckles. As annoyed as Finn was, he realised that was nothing compared to how furious Shinsuke was with himself.

“I shoulda scouted the place better,” Finn admitted. Not quite an apology, but close enough. “Ain’t all on you.” 

“I got us caught,” the other man replied. 

“They had tranq guns, Shin, and cameras. Probably had eyes on us for miles. We couldn’t have done shit.” Finn was talking to convince himself as much as Shinsuke, and he knew it. “Don't beat yourself up about it, pal. We gotta figure out our next moves.” He surveyed their surroundings grimly. It was silent outside. Too quiet by far.  “Looks like they've left us to die. Which only gives us one option.” He paused, giving Shinsuke time to catch up. Understanding hit him, and he beamed broadly. On the same page. 

So Finn thought, as he laid out their plan verbally, “Escape.”

At the exact same time as Shinsuke said, far too enthusiastically, “Cannibalism!” 

“What?” 

Shinsuke nodded sagely. “To survive, we will be forced to eat one another. Like plane crash. You only need one arm, right, Finn?”

“That's not what I- I like both my arms, thank you. I'm talking about getting out of here.”

“Oh, right,” Shinsuke sounded downcast by this prospect. “Gotcha.”

“Little worrying how keen you are to eat people, Shin,” Finn said, through a gritted-teeth forced smile. 

“Cool story though.”

“I think keeping both my arms and escaping in one piece is a cooler story, actually.”

“Is it? Are you sure ?”

“ Very .”

They were interrupted by a laugh. The door opened to reveal a young woman. When his eyes had readjusted to the sudden light, Finn could see she was dressed in bright clothing -- colourful tassled trousers, and a sun-faded t-shirt. She had a pair of tech goggles pulled up on her forehead. Her brown hair was scraped back into a practical side-ponytail, and she had a headband to keep it out of her eyes. 

“You guys are wild. You really thought we just left you, huh? What kind of monsters do you think we are?”

Finn studied her. She wasn't tall, and was fairly slight. Must have been strong, though, to get them both into the bathroom with her friend. “You attacked us.”

“It's just business,” the woman replied, upbeat. She leaned down to look at Shinsuke, who had said nothing, retreating into himself. “Hey, sword dude. What's with the sword?” 

“No English,” Shinsuke muttered darkly. 

The woman blinked, confused. “I just heard you, you speak fine-” 

Shinsuke fixed her with a glare . “Hearing things. No English.” The air in their improvised cell was getting decidedly chilly. Shinsuke began to slide his cuff up the section of pipe, hauling himself to his feet, legs shaking like a baby deer. He started to smile slowly, no different from his ordinary smiles, but there was an unhinged look in his eyes. Like he didn't care what happened next. Slowly, he licked his lips. 

The woman wasn't frightened. “Do you want me to taze you?” she asked, folding her arms. “Because I totally will taze you. And it'll hurt a lot, because I modded this bad boy myself.” She waved the taser in her hands, and stepped back, putting distance between herself and her captives. “So? Do you want me to taze you?” 

Shinsuke scowled, flopping to the floor with a huff, and Finn spoke up quickly. “No, it's okay. He's just groggy from the anaesthetic. Needs some coffee, right Shin?” He smiled. The smile was not returned. “There's some instant in the car.”

“I know, we found it already,” the woman replied brightly, but still visibly wary of them. “Along with your booby traps, guns, a tonne of bullets…and a nice little file. Made interesting reading.” She met Finn's eyes plainly. “That's why we kept you alive, didn't trade you in to the militia either. You got useful info. So, we'll make you both your coffees, and you boys will play nice and tell us what you want with Mysterio.”

“That's your play?” Finn could work with that. He could maybe even talk them into freedom, if only Shinsuke felt like behaving. “Sounds reasonable. Wanna unchain me an’ talk about this outside, like civilised people?” 

The woman laughed. “I'm not dumb. We can talk to you just fine like this. If anything whatsoever happens to me, my friend will radio the local gangs, see if anyone wants your blood. They'll come and collect, and they aren't so nice as me. Seriously, it doesn't have to go bad.” She was chewing her lip, nervously. Finn figured something quickly. 

She'd probably never killed. Maybe in self-defence, okay. Definitely not in cold blood though. She was a basically decent person, getting by. Making a living. 

“Your purple-haired friend, yeah? With the tranqs. Am I right in thinking she's the chemist here? You're the techie.” The young woman nodded reluctantly. “Gotcha. Sounds a good partnership. Let's cut a deal. I'll talk if you let me out of here. You can lock me up again after, but I won't say a word until you let me out, y’hear?”

The woman hesitated, but nodded. “That sounds fair. Sword guy stays in here, though.”

“Sword guy has a name,” Shinsuke muttered. 

“Sword guy didn't speak English a minute ago,” she pointed out. “And I only need one of you. Irish is cooperating.” 

“Finn,” Finn corrected. “I'm Finn, he's Shin. Finn Bálor, and Shinsuke Nakamura.”

“See?” The woman tossed Finn a set of keys. “Only you. You try anything, I give you a zap.” She pressed the buttons on the tazer, and the electricity crackled ominously. 

“Just try it,” Shinsuke hissed, and started to grin again, once more getting to his feet. Out of his cuffs by now, Finn went and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to sit back down. 

“It'll be fine. I'll deal with it. Okay? Just stay mellow, and I'll be back for you.”

Shinsuke eyed him warily, but sat back down. Finn gave an awkward smile and followed the young woman out back into the gas station proper. 

“Didn't catch your name,” he said, conversationally. 

“Oh, me?” When she smiled, it looked genuine. And not in a murderous way. “I'm Bayley.”

“Nice to meet you,” Finn lied, but he was only half lying. She seemed nice. 

He watched her lock the door again, leaving Shinsuke inside, and couldn't help feeling that, even though this was the smart play here, that he was making a mistake. Going soft, he must have been. 

He should cut and run now. Fuck Shinsuke. He could find his own way out of this mess. 

That was the worrying thought here. 

Because he just might take out anyone in his way when he did. 

-

He followed Bayley through the gas station and out back. Obscured by large dumpsters, there was a hatch through to some sort of basement. Bayley tossed him another key, prodding him in the back with the taser and nodding. 

“Go on, then,” she ordered. Resentment curled in his stomach, but he obeyed. It occurred to him, as he walked down the stairs, Bayley just behind him, that he might have just passed up his only chance to get out of here cleanly. Why was he holding off? He still had -- yes, he still had a knife concealed. So why wasn’t he doing anything?

He figured he was curious. The Rey Mysterio file had told him nothing about why they wanted this guy in on their schemes. It had told them he was a slippery little bastard, not to be trifled with. It said very little on the man himself beyond his record; which Finn had to admire. You didn’t meet many people, for example, who’d survived the siege of Miami. Or the stunt he’d allegedly pulled at that farm out West, which wasn’t in the file. Finn wondered if it were even true. Rollins wasn’t exactly known for honesty. It was entirely plausible he’d made the whole thing up to try and get info. But still, something about it rang true, and Finn’s instincts were normally good. He was inclined to believe Rollins on this one.

None of which answered his question. 

The basement room was more like a fortified bunker turned science lab, half devoted to screens and circuitry, and the other half full of test tubes, glass beakers, shit Finn wouldn’t even pretend to understand beyond knowing that this was where the knockout drug they’d been captured with was made. And there was the purple-haired woman, lab goggles up on her forehead, chewing on a pen. Weirdly, that was what made Finn scoff the most. Not the secret lab under the gas station, that could be believed, but that someone out there still had a working pen? Now that was unrealistic.

The woman was flicking through the Mysterio file, making notes on every page. Meaning she knew something. On hearing their footsteps, she glanced up, before recoiling and scrabbling for the tranquiliser gun. Now calmer, she levelled it at Finn coolly. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Bayley?” the woman hissed. She glared at Finn. “I don’t know what you did to weasel your way in here, but you stay back. I’ve got poisons here that could kill you in minutes.” 

“Like the chemistry set,” Finn replied. “Impressive. Listen, I’m not here to cause trouble-”

“Bullshit!” the woman retorted, pointing at the file with no small degree of urgency. “You’re looking for him. Why would you be after Rey if you weren’t trying to start shit? Hasn’t he done enough? You people should give him a break.”

“Sasha, calm down,” Bayley said, going to her friend’s side. “He’s willing to talk.”

Sasha looked dubious. “Where’s the other one?”

“Locked up still,” Bayley replied. “Not feeling so cooperative.”

Sasha nodded. Her expression wasn’t quite acceptance, still guarded, but it was a little less wary. Finn could work with that. “You’re going to talk?”

“If you’ll answer some of my questions, for sure.” Finn assumed his most agreeable tone, just your average, friendly kind of guy. Regular and ordinary. “Don’t worry, nothin’ much. Just, well, thing is, they didn’t tell me too much about the gig. I know we’re looking for Rey, and Triple H, you know the guy, he said the file would explain why. Now, I can do the maths. Rey’s smart; he’s still alive for one thing. He’s got somethin’, I really couldn’t hazard a guess what, but it goes back to the Trace Italian.” He looked to the young women expectantly. Their expressions had dropped, and they were exchanging a very obvious Meaningful Look, which they hadn’t even tried to hide. Good. This was going well. “I just wanna know what I’ve landed meself in. Really.”

“Is that true?” Sasha asked dubiously. “Why take the job if you don’t know what it is?”

“The ammo in the car,” Bayley said, realisation dawning on her. “Sasha, he’s just a pawn. They didn’t tell him anything.”

“What about the Trace Italian?” Sasha asked, unrelenting, arms folded. 

Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just driving Shin far as Rey’s. Then it’s their problem.” He felt the women’s eyes boring into him and shifted. “I do know one other thing. I was asked to set up a deal, persuade Rey to work with us on this job. I may not know all the details, but I know the plan hinges on Rey being alive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sasha still seemed cautious, but Bayley looked persuaded, pulling her to the side and whispering something quietly. The purple-haired woman frowned, and then sighed. She turned back to Finn. “Okay. We’ll come with. Just to make sure you don’t pull anything funny. Rey Mysterio’s a good man, better than you by far. If anything goes south-” she produced a jar of darts, and shook them ominously. “You’ll get acquainted with these bad boys. You’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Finn replied. A flash of movement on one of the camera screens caught his eye, then he saw it cut out. He considered saying something, but didn’t need to; an alarm rang immediately after, and both women turned. If he’d wanted to take them unawares, kill them, make his escape, he could have. But he didn’t see the need. 

“Oh shit,” Bayley was saying. “He’s taken out the cameras!”

Sasha fixed her gaze on Finn, and went immediately to her darts. There was one in her hand, and Bayley was barely holding her back. “You distracted us so your friend could escape. You scheming bastard. Was any of that shit you fed us true?”

“Sasha, this wasn’t his fault-” Bayley pleaded. 

“Bullshit it wasn’t! They probably planned this, didn’t you? You should have run when you had a chance.”

Finn was really, really not enjoying his day. He was beyond pissed off, and this stunt from Shinsuke didn’t make it any better. “He does what he wants. The plan was I come talk to you, get us out, and we head back on our merry way. But he can’t even follow that without...God, I’m sorry. Give me my gun, and I’ll head upstairs and talk to him.”

“Why the hell would we do that?” Sasha asked, furiously. 

Bayley produced his pistol and handed it to him, as Sasha protested. There was a time, Finn thought, when he’d have shot the both of them through the skull and wouldn’t have lost any sleep over it. But he wasn’t that person now. He wasn’t sure what kind of person he was, or what call he’d make when he had Shinsuke in range. 

“Cover me with the tranq gun,” he told Sasha. “Just in case.”

“Fine,” Sasha replied, stubborn look on her face. Bayley switched out her taser for a full-on cattle-prod. 

Shinsuke’s sword was leaning against the wall, along with several knives. Finn counted them, and ran it against a mental tally he’d kept in his head. He came up short. So the guy still had a few blades. Great. 

Finn checked his gun. He’d have around twenty shots. That was more than enough for dealing with an unarmed man. Or even for a man with what, two, three knives tops? Plenty. He climbed the stairs, followed by the two women. Sasha seemed put-out by the situation, but Bayley was definitely excited. She was practically bouncing on her toes, skipping steps. Finn saw Sasha look at her friend and smile faintly. There was her soft spot, her weakness. If it came to it, he knew who to target, how to manipulate them into helping out. Not that he wanted to. That wasn’t his play here.

He hoped it wasn’t, anyway. 

Stepping out into the sunlight, he blinked, adjusting his eyes from the faint, flickering tube lights of the lab basement. He was on the immediate alert. 

“Where is he?” He looked back to the women. Bayley pulled her goggles down and was quiet for a few moments. 

“He’s just broke the camera out front. I’ve got a backup...he’s going to the car.”

“No he ain’t.” Finn gritted his teeth irritably. “That’s my bleeding car.” He started to run, rounding the corner. 

Shinsuke had already got into the driver’s seat, and was fiddling with the ignition. “Oi!” Finn yelled after him. The loony motherfucker cast him a disdainful look, and kept on trying to start the car without the keys. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Shinsuke!”

A mad grin crept across his colleague’s face, as if those words had sealed the deal. The car started with a roar, just before Finn could reach it. Finn looked at the gun in his hand in horror. For fuck’s sake. Was he really going to have to shoot at his own car? Was that the position Shinsuke was putting him in? He couldn’t risk damaging it permanently, not with vehicles so hard to come by. That was his car . Still, nothing was sacred, was it? He shot the right mirror, a warning. It came careening off into the sand. 

The car arced around, so it was facing Finn. Oh fuck. His stomach sank. He had one decision to make, and he knew what he’d have to do. It was him or Shinsuke, it had come down to that so quickly. Finn intended to survive, simple as. 

The car accelerated toward him, and he aimed. Only to realise that, for all his batshit insanity, the asshole still had a brain somewhere, and he’d ducked. Finn darted out of the way just in time, managing to sidestep before the passenger door swung open and floored him. A pair of hands pulled him into the car by his collar.

He’d managed to keep hold of his gun. Intuitively, he moved, and that was how they got there, with the gun pressed directly under Shinsuke’s chin and Finn’s finger buzzing over the trigger. 

Shinsuke stopped the car, blinking in confusion. He seemed genuinely baffled by his predicament. “Hey! This is how you thank me for rescue?” 

That took Finn off guard. “Rescue?”

Shinsuke nodded sincerely. “Rescue. I rescue you from those weird, scary chicks.” He shuddered. “We continue mission.”

“I had it covered!” Finn hissed. “Besides, you were accelerating right towards me. The fuck else was I supposed to think?” 

“Rescue,” Shinsuke replied, like he were talking to an idiot. “Obvious.”

Finn sighed. He couldn’t argue. You couldn’t shake that kind of certainty. He was really, really tempted to just shoot Shinsuke and be done with it. But he didn’t. “The weird scary chicks know Rey, Shin. They’re gonna help us out. I talked them round. Like I said I would, if you’d listened to my plan.”

Shinsuke shrugged. Finn noticed the cuff still untouched on his hand. So he’d worked the piping loose, presumably, rather than picking the cuff. Ingenious. “Your plan, lots of holes. Biggest hole, it’s boring . My plan, great fun.” Shinsuke sighed, and the bluster seemed to fall away. “Didn’t trust them not to kill you. Trusted you to stay alive long enough for getaway.” He shrugged again lamely. “Never mind. We get caught again, yeah?” He gestured at the women who were approaching the car with their tranq gun and cattle prod at the ready. 

Finn shook his head, holding up a hand to keep them at bay. “They’re gonna come with us, okay? Two more road trip buddies. We’re cool with them now.”

“Oh, okay,” Shinsuke replied absently, yawning. “Can I get my sword back now?”

Chapter Text

Finn was on edge. For the sake of this uneasy alliance, he'd been forced to do the one thing AJ had told him not to. He'd had to let Shinsuke sit behind him. 

Sasha was riding shotgun; she had insisted upon it. Similarly, she ruled that Bayley had to sit behind her, to keep an eye on the resident weirdo, who in turn was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. Instead he was making faces in the rearview mirror, puffing his cheeks up and pushing the air out again with his hands. Loudly. Driving everyone else nuts. 

Nobody was keen on him having immediate access to his sword, least of all Finn, sat directly in front of him in prime stab zone. This had caused him so much earache, that he almost wished he had been filleted like a sodding fish already and put out of his misery. 

“Guyyyyys c'mon ,” Shinsuke drawled. “Can't use sword in car anywayyyyy . Too cramped. Sprain your elbow.” His measured nod suggested he'd definitely found this out through experience. “Stab someone in car, you use knife.” 

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Finn was still in a foul mood with the other assassin, and his voice was tinged with bitterness as a result. 

“Yeah!” Shinsuke nodded proudly. “ Pleeeease can I have my sword back, Fiiiiinn . Promise not to…cut your head off while you driving. Even though it look so awesome if I do.”

“No sword,” Finn replied firmly. He felt too much like a parent. Of an unruly 6'2’’ killing machine. For fuck's sake. 

“Why do you have an actual sword?” Bayley piped up. “I know bullets are hard to come by these days but it still seems a little…extra.” If that wasn't the aptest description of Shinsuke, Finn didn't know what was. Extra motherfucker. 

“Aesthetic,” Shinsuke replied, with a flash of his wolfish grin. “Looks cool, does job. And best thing, yeah, I'm Japanese. What do white people think? They think ‘oh, scary Asian man with big sword chop us up, run away’. I get to scare all the dumbass racists shitless.” He snickered childishly. “Fun times.”

“Huh. That's like, surprisingly thought out. You're actually pretty smart.” Bayley looked taken aback by this. That was the normal reaction when you realised just how cunning and intelligent this guy was under all that bullshit. He'd run two merc crews, you had to remember that. Everything he did, even the goofball act to throw people off, was for very specific reasons. 

He was dangerous. 

Finn really hated having him sat behind. 

So far, Sasha had been relatively quiet. She was minding the sword, which looked comically large next to her. It didn't seem like she was sulking, more lost in contemplation. Weighing up the shitshow situation she'd wandered into. Finn sympathised. He, too, longed for a couple of days ago, when things had made a lot more sense. You know, when the world was just ending, and the Trace Italian wasn't real, and he didn't have a known backstabber sat directly behind him, in prime stab position. That stuff. 

“Pull over,” she said, after a while. “I'll drive the next stretch.”

“Finn doesn't like people driving his car,” Shinsuke yawned. “Right, Finn?” 

“Yeah. Right,” Finn agreed. 

“You need to pull over,” Sasha insisted. “Bayley. Tell them.”

“Tell them what?” 

“You know,” Sasha hissed. 

“Ohhh,” Bayley replied. “That. Yeah, Sasha needs to drive.”

“Oh, okay,” Shinsuke replied. “That definitely sounds super duper legit. I buy that 110 per cent .” His tone wasn't sarcastic, but his exaggerated wink to Finn in the mirror was beyond sassy. He was ridiculous. 

“Wanna fill us in?” Finn asked. “For the rest of the class?” 

Sasha sighed. “The bridge. It's controlled by the local militia. Which is the Flairs.”

“Hold up. You're fucking with me.” Finn shook his head. “You're telling me Ric fucking Flair owns this bit of land, and we're just driving on in like-”

“Listen to me for five minutes, will you?” Sasha rolled her eyes. “Not Ric. Charlotte. But sure, she's got all her daddy's resources, foot soldiers-” 

“Ammo,” Bayley finished.

“No feckin’ shit,” Finn sniped. “Ric's a bloody arms dealer.” He glared at Sasha. “You coulda told us sooner.”

“I was forming a plan,” she retorted. “I've got one now.”

“I trust her!” called Shinsuke cheerfully. “Her hair’s cool. We should believe everything she say ‘cause she got a look going on.” His eye-roll was something else. Nice to know he was taking this seriously. Somewhat, anyway. As much as he could. “Do you dye it or does it grow that colour?” 

“Do you have to act like a child about everything?” Sasha asked, impatiently. 

“No,” he replied. “But I want to.”

Finn pulled over. “The plan. What is it?” He didn't like being out of the loop. He couldn't go with the flow like Shinsuke did. He needed to know. 

“Can I guess?” Shinsuke lit up like a kid at Christmas. He thought about it for a moment, then spoke slowly, as if reciting something important and not talking utter shite. “We turn Finn into a Mad Max figurehead and charge their base, find a guitar flamethrower, die historic on Fury Road?” They stared at him. He shrugged. “Good movie. I like old films.”

“Yeah, no,” Finn said quickly. “Ignore him. He's attention-seeking. Like a cat pushing shit off of furniture.” Shinsuke grinned. “We'll tase you and put you in the trunk if you don't put a sock in it.”

Bayley nodded seriously. “If you even fit. How are your legs that long?” 

“Bones,” Shinsuke answered, very seriously. “Calcium.”

“Shinsuke. Shut up.”

A flickering, broken lightbulb smile. “Try it. It'll be fun , Finn. Fun Finn fun.” 

“ Anyway, ” Finn ignored him. “Sasha?” 

The chemist nodded. “We have a travel permit, we take medication over to the settlement on the regular,” she explained. “We can get the car across the bridge, and meet the two of you on the other side.”

“How do we get across?” Finn asked, unconvinced. “Swim?” They would have to leave a lot of weapons if that were the plan. He didn’t want to be so vulnerable, especially in an area he didn’t know.

“Surf,” Shinsuke suggested. “Catch some waves, man.” His exaggerated Californian accent was atrocious. Bayley laughed at it though. Suddenly, his grin fell away and he looked serious. “So we go under the bridge? Like Spiderman?”

“That’s...yeah. That’s right,” Sasha sounded surprised. “There’s a path just before the checkpoint, you guys can head that way. Bayley set up the alarm system so she can short it out without them knowing, can’t you?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’ll put the cameras on a loop too,” Bayley said, opening a case by her feet and producing what looked like a laptop, attached to some solar cells. “You guys should be fine. Just don’t touch anything obvious, don’t make too much noise-” Here, she cast a long look at Shinsuke, who tried to look innocent, twiddling his thumbs and whistling. Bayley clearly wanted to look incredulous but couldn’t keep it up, and snorted. “Don’t start any trouble.”

“Me?” Shinsuke pouted. “I never start trouble. It’s Finn who does all the bad things. You should tell him to behave.”

“Okay,” Bayley replied cheerfully. “Finn, behave.”

“Will do,” Finn said. “You want us out of the car now?”

“If you don’t wanna get caught, obviously.” Sasha pulled a face. “I’ll mark a meeting spot down on your map, we can catch up there.” She met Finn’s eyes firmly. “Don’t worry. I keep my promises, okay?”

“I was gonna say. You skip out on me with my car, you’re opening a whole can of worms you don’t wanna see.” He half-laughed. “I don’t like this still, but I can’t see any alternative. Not enough room in the trunk, with all the fuel we need for the rest of the journey. Besides, I can’t see any Flair being careless enough not to check the vehicle thoroughly. You’d know. What’s Charlotte like?”

“Her father’s daughter,” Sasha replied, at the same time as Bayley interrupted and said, “Dangerous.”

Finn took this in. Right. He knew Ric by reputation. Knowing this about his daughter now, he knew this would be more difficult than it sounded. If she’d just been a spoiled heiress, it’d have been much easier. God, he would have really appreciated it if Sasha could have just told him what was up from the get go. Maybe she wanted to observe him, to build some trust first. Maybe she wanted to foster some dependency so she’d be necessary for success. Whatever. He didn’t like it. 

He gathered up a bag full of guns, just in case. And some food. Because they didn’t know how long it would be. If things went wrong, the last thing Finn wanted was to be stranded in the desert with nothing to eat or drink, and Shinsuke Nakamura suggesting cannibalism, again. Nope. 

Speaking of, the other assassin had got his sword back from Sasha and was toying with it, spinning it round in a series of flashy moves. Apparently satisfied with his own drama for now, he then sheathed it on his back. For now, anyway. That done, Sasha now handed Finn the map, with a meeting site marked, and two little stick figures drawn on. The one with the ponytail was waving. Bayley leaned out of the window and did just that. It made Finn smile. 

“We’ll see you in a couple days, ‘kay?” she said. 

“Luck willing,” Finn replied. “Look after my car, okay?” He glanced around. “So we just head that way?”

“Yep!” Bayley beamed. “Break a leg. Or don’t. There’s tripwires. Be careful.”

Sasha started up the car again. She leaned out the window to say something, but thought better of it, and just waved instead. They set off, quickly becoming a cloud of dust in the sunset. Once again, Finn was alone with a total maniac. Walking. 

They had a few hours until nightfall.

Great fun.

-

They walked cautiously, wary for traps. Aside from a few narrow escapes, that front was a mild annoyance, really. Especially when Shinsuke took to pointing at random bits of undergrowth and yelling ‘tripwire’, before collapsing into hysterical laughter. That wore out fast, but of course that didn't stop Shin. He did what he wanted. AJ had said his sense of humour was a bit different. Finn couldn't say he hadn't been warned, though that didn't stop him wanting to push Shinsuke into the gorge to end this boy-who-cried-wolf bullshit.

What a prick.

“You’re a real prick, y’know that, Shin?” Finn said the fourth time it happened, only to be hushed abruptly. A sudden sincerity flashed in Shinsuke’s eyes. That was what sent Finn to his guns. If Shinsuke was taking this seriously, it had to be something. 

On the track just below them, beneath a rocky outcrop, there were voices. 

At his companion’s behest, Finn crouched beside him, nothing but a ragged group of shrubs for cover. He had his weapon ready, cocked. Shinsuke’s hand was on the hilt of his sword, face set in grim determination. The air felt colder, almost, when he got like this. All the manic energy was gone, and the absence left behind chilled Finn to the bone. His colleague was dangerous. Briefly, he met Finn’s eyes, and flashed one more little grin. A nothing-smile, so fleeting, then gone. 

The voices were loud, unthinking. They didn’t care who heard them. “Man, why we gotta check South? I thought we been this way already.” Male. African-American. 

“Uh, no, idiot!” Female. Highly-strung. With a similar petulance. “That was the North side. Do you like, not understand compasses?”

“Ain’t they that shit you draw with in shop class?” Finn stifled a smirk. “But we checked South already, I swear.”

“Duh, on the other side of the river!” the woman pointed out. 

“Ohhh I getcha now. We gotta check both sides!” 

“That’s what we do literally every day, Truth. Every day. Why would today be any different?”

“No idea.” 

Finn peeked his head out a little, and saw the two of them. The man was relatively tall, shirtless except for a black leather jacket, and wearing shorts. He had dark skin and dreadlocks. The woman was pretty, and still fairly dolled up for this part of the world, tanned, with a noticeable pout. She wore her brown hair tied up. Her clothing was practical; combat pants and a tank top. Both were armed with assault rifles. Delightful. 

He edged just a little further to the edge, ready to put the pair down, when he was stopped. Shinsuke had blocked him with his elbow, and was smiling lazily. In the time Finn had been with him, that smile had never precipitated anything good. 

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Shinsuke said calmly, so quiet he was scarcely audible. “Got a plan.” 

It was about time he did something constructive, Finn figured, though all his plans so far had been abysmal and/or cataclysmically de structive, so he decided to let this one go down. There was something to it, the insanity. It worked out in the end. 

Shinsuke took a long, deep breath, and jumped from the overhanging ledge, hitting the guy called Truth in the jaw with one long, rangy leg and laying him out. In an instant, the sword was drawn, and levelled directly at Carmella’s throat. It happened so fast, and so sudden, no sound was made until the lady decided, for some batfucking reason, to scream. 

She was shrill, and above all else loud. You could have heard her in what was left of County Wicklow. And in the gorge, sound carried. So Finn did the rational thing, and knocked her out with the butt of his gun before any else came calling. Hopefully, nobody had heard that. He glanced up at the bridge, still a little away, ideally out of earshot. Who knew? One had to fucking hope, here. Hope and pray.

“Right,” Finn began, turning to the guy, to find he was out cold. “He’s unconscious?”

“Knee to face,” Shinsuke drawled. “Does that.” 

Finn scowled. He’d been hoping to get some information out of one of their captives, otherwise there was no point in all this, in even keeping them alive. “Then he’s useless until he wakes up. Both of them are. We should throw them into the river and be done with it. They seem mentally inept, hardly a stretch to think they fell.”

“Haha yes,” Shinsuke snickered. “Would be funny. Would be funny to chop their heads off and throw them at Miss Flair too. But I have plan, see. Good plan. Rhymes with ‘human shields’.” He yawned, and started to pick earwax out with his little finger. Completely disgusting. “Then we chop off their heads, with sword. Cool plan, or cool plan?”

It actually wasn’t an awful plan. Colour me surprised , Finn thought, and clapped his colleague on the back. “Cool plan, Shin. I’m in. If I don’t like where anything’s going, mind, I get to veto it right off. Clear?”

God, that grin. The shark one. The one that raised the hairs on Finn’s back involuntarily. “Crystal.”

Finn ignored him, giving only a nod in acknowledgement. You really had to, at a certain point. He set about removing their captive’s weapons and ammo, passing Shinsuke one of the assault rifles, which the other man immediately turned his nose up at and slung headlong into the gorge. Idiot. Finn shook his head, taking the other gun and strapping it to his own back. Might come in handy, and he wasn’t a stupid Trace wanker with a fuckoff giant sword. Their two prisoners were now propped against the rocky wall. Whoever came round first was in for a rude awakening, that was for sure. 

The first to wake up was the man, who his partner had called ‘Truth’. He blinked awake hazily, clocking his situation and putting his hands up with an awkward smile. “Guess I oughta say oops about now?” He gave a nervous kind of chuckle, but aside from that, he didn’t seem too worried. “How’s it hanging, homies?” 

Finn stared. Was he severely concussed, or did he just lack the brain cells to realise his predicament? It didn’t really matter. What mattered was Finn held the gun. That in mind, he replied, “I’d worry more about yourself, mate. No games, or you’ll be taking a little trip, got it?” He gestured over the edge of the cliff. Truth followed with his eyes, and nodded. It was a little unsettling, how unafraid he seemed. Something wasn’t right.

He tried to get Shinsuke’s attention, but of course, his buddy was off being a total motherfucker, staring over the edge of the cliff and absently toying with his sword. Bitch. More than that. He was actively endangering them in the field, that was what he was. Finn was fuming.

“Oh yeah, I copy.” Truth got to his feet, still rubbing his head and wincing. “Yo, what the fuck did you do? Feel like my head got turned inside out.” 

Finn didn’t have time to answer, before Shinsuke piped up instead, without turning around. “Knee to face.” His voice was oddly toneless. This was the second sign something was wrong. Normally, he felt like Shinsuke would be grinning in a situation like this, eyes glinting madly, manic as anything. But he wasn’t. And that felt wrong.

“Man, what the hell are your knees made of? Concrete?” Truth was incredulous, making a show of his outrage. Finn was a pro, though, he saw through it. He saw the man weighing them both up, studying them like a seasoned opponent. Not like someone being held hostage, who had been disarmed and was looking for a way out. Like someone who still held some of the cards here.

He stepped back just before the small, curved knife could pierce his ribs, moving the gun to deflect it, knocking it from the man’s hands. He raised the gun, aiming at the man, who threw his hands up casually. Of course. If Finn fired in the gully, it would echo. It would give them away. Even an idiot knew this. You’d have to be stupid to gamble your life against a gunman on a cliff edge, on a chance like that. Something Finn had learnt from hanging with Shinsuke was this: sometimes being stupid was the smart play. Clearly this was a lesson Truth was familiar with too.

“No games, I said,” Finn hissed. “I’ve been travelling with this one long enough to see through bullshit when I see it.” He indicated Shinsuke, who at long fucking last seemed mentally present again and flashed a cocky grin. “Try and stab me again, I’ll let him gut you. You wanna gut him, Shinsuke?” 

Shinsuke nodded. “Make his insides out sides, haha yes. I like that.”

Truth seemed to realise the game, as it was, was up. “You ain’t killed me yet,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “You need me alive.”

Finn laughed. Shinsuke followed suit. “We don’t need you. Shin here just thinks it’d be fun to use you as a human shield.”

Shinsuke beamed. “Yeah! Human shields are fun. But gutting people is also fun, so-” he swung the sword, and out of nowhere, lunged . The sword grazed against Truth’s cheek. “Behave. Or I change my mind about not killing.” 

Sometimes, having a crazy swordsman on your side paid off. When you needed to scare the shit out of someone, lunacy was always helpful. You could never predict what a madman would do. In Shinsuke’s case, it was a catch-22. He was, by large, faking crazy. But the way he faked crazy was in itself totally crazy, making him crazy for real. Or something. Either way, crazy or sane, the impression had been made. Truth wasn’t going to fuck around with them anymore.

Leaving Shinsuke to leer menacingly at hostage #1, Finn knelt down to wake up hostage numero dos, shaking her by the shoulders. She came around, groggy at first, but when she realised her situation, her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. He didn’t give her chance to scream. Just clapped a hand across her mouth. Yeah, he’d learnt. His ears were still ringing.

“You scream, and I’ll cut you a new smile across your throat with your boyfriend’s knife,” he warned, picking up Truth’s knife to point it menacingly. “Got it?” 

The woman nodded. Slowly he moved his hand away -- and immediately regretted it, when she started talking. “Okay, so like, first of all, he is not my boyfriend, we are collaborative partners and associates in surviving. Second, oh my God, you are Irish, that’s so cute, I just love your accent. Third-”

“I really don’t care,” Finn interrupted. “Shut up.”

“I care,” Shinsuke chimed in. “I’m sure it’s very, very important.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t. And I say she shuts up, or I tape her gob shut.”

The woman pouted. “That is so rude,” she said, folding her arms. Finn rolled his eyes, and hauled her to her feet. They needed to get moving. Only so many hours in the day, and all. If they made it a little further before dark fell, they could find themselves some cover and properly question their prisoners. Why weren’t they scared? It couldn’t just be stupidity. For sure, the lady talked like an airhead, but she held herself with the ease and practice of a trained professional. And Truth didn’t remember compass points but he still seemed way too jovial for a captive. 

And then there was Shinsuke, who was acting odd even for him, staring oddly into the middle distance, casting glances at the other side of the gully. Finn didn’t like being on the back foot. He preferred it when people shared what they knew with the class and didn’t gamble with lives just to be a mysterious bugger. Unless…

Shinsuke didn’t want their prisoners to realise he’d cottoned onto their game. He was whistling innocently, sword across his shoulders, cheerful spring in his step. But his eyes were hardened and most importantly, he wasn’t smiling.

Something was very, very wrong about this picture. 

“Hey, Shinsuke,” Finn called. “There’s this Japanese phrase I remember, but I forgot what it means. Can you give us a hand?”

“Sure,” Shinsuke grinned. “Aww, you trust I tell you truth. That must mean we good friends now.”

Finn scoffed. “ Are they fucking with us or what ?” he asked, in Japanese, making a show of stumbling over his words. Impressed, Truth applauded.

“Yo, dude, you on some anime shit! Nice! You ever see that old one about Boruto’s dad? I used to get high to that stuff back in the day.”

He didn’t understand. Good. His female partner was huffily ignoring them still, and showing no interest in the conversation. Even better. Shinsuke smiled.

“Ah, you use wrong verb,” he replied. “You should say this instead-” 

He spoke, and it took every ounce of Finn’s self-control to stop himself from tensing up. .

What he’d just said was very, very bad. 

“ They’re wearing earpieces. ” 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

'They're wearing earpieces.' And fuck, they were. Obscured by their long hair. Which meant there was someone on the other end. When Shinsuke had been staring vaguely at the other bank, he'd been looking for snipers. These were all things Finn should have thought to look for and yet he'd been distracted, off his game. 

He'd been stupid. He'd put them all in jeopardy. Idiot. He cursed himself mentally in three languages, trying to remember the Spanish for 'fuckhead' so he could make it four. 

Just, barely, he held himself together. Didn't let any of this show on his face. "Thanks, pal. How's my accent? Any tips?" What do we do now? What's our play here? Please tell me you have a plan.

"You have good accent. Trust me." Shinsuke said cheerfully. He started to hum a low tune, starting slow and building in tempo, while his fingers twitched reflexively, tapping a beat on his sword hilt. 

Oh, yeah, very confidence-inspiring. Ta very much, mate . 

Then again, AJ had said Shin was good in the field. And Shin had, twice now, including earlier, asked Finn to trust him. Maybe it was time he'd earned a little faith. Looking at him, and the confident spring in his step, it seemed like he had a clear plan in mind. Finn's head was pounding and right now he just wanted to hurt someone, so it was a weight off his shoulders that Shinsuke was willing to actually do something beyond going with the flow. Hadn't he led not one, but two merc gangs? It was a mistake to underestimate him, yet it was one Finn kept unconsciously making. He had to remember that he only thought he knew Shinsuke. Whoever he'd been in Japan was a different beast altogether. 

"Hey, that's pretty catchy," Truth was saying, in response to Shin's humming. "You make that up off the top of your head?" 

"It's my theme song," Shinsuke replied, that vicious grin was spreading across his face preemptively. If Finn had had any doubts, now he knew Shinsuke definitely had one of his crazy schemes up his sleeve. 

"You are like, so cool," Carmella interjected. "Like, your style is impeccable. Where do you get your clothes?" 

Shinsuke yawned. "Killed a guy who was right size. You do that, yeah? Kill someone, realise heyyyyy nice outfit, man, I know someone that'd look good on - me!" 

Carmella pulled a face. "That is the most disgusting thing I ever heard." 

"Is not. Is like a thrift store. Recycling." Shinsuke flashed a grin at Truth. "I like your jacket." 

Truth recoiled. "Oh man, why would you even say that? Now I'm stress sweating! Mella, baby, if he guts me for my jacket, promise you'll avenge me."

"I won't gut you," Shinsuke said sincerely, and Finn could see where this was going, but let him continue because he wanted to watch their hostage shit himself in fear. "Ruin the jacket. Would chop head off instead, obviously."

"Oh, obviously ! You're a maniac!" 

"Yup," Shinsuke replied blissfully, and stopped in his tracks suddenly. They were perhaps one hundred metres from the bridge, now. With one hand, he put his sword across his shoulders, casually reminding them he was ready to strike at any time. He extended the other hand to Carmella. 

She blinked in confusion. Rolling his eyes, Shinsuke moved her hair with the sword, ignoring how she flinched, and took the earpiece from her ear. It was small, no bigger than a pea and translucent so you'd have had to be looking for it to spot it at first glance. 

"Konnichiwa~" he sang into it, and then suddenly, with no warning, placed it into his mouth and bit down hard until the thing crunched. He spat it to the ground and extended his free hand toward Truth now. The man didn't hesitate before handing his earpiece over. Shinsuke passed it to Finn, saluted, and then stepped over the cliff edge, as their hostages cursed in shock. 

"What the fuck? " Carmella's shrill voice went right through Finn, and he winced. 

"Crazy motherfucker-" Truth was shaking his head in disbelief. 

Finn didn't bother looking. He knew Shinsuke would turn up again like a bad penny. Attention-seeking bastard just likes the drama . He'd told Finn to trust him. Finn would see where that took them. 

He put the earpiece in. 

"R-Truth, listen carefully. Tell Japan and Irish we have their friends," he heard a cold female voice say. "We'll arrange a hostage exchange for you and Carmella instead."

"Instead of what?" Finn asked, keeping his gun aimed at the two captives. "The trap we were about to walk into? Sorry, Finn Bálor speaking. Am I talking to Miss Flair?" 

"This is she," Charlotte Flair replied. "I'm glad I don't have to introduce myself. That would be awkward. I assume you're in a position to negotiate for your associates?"

"Aye, I am. You said you're open to a trade? Two for two?" 

"That's right," Charlotte agreed. "The chemist and the engineer for my two employees."

"And you'll let us go on our way afterwards?" He heard her hesitate. "Give us some assurance."

"I'll release one hostage if you do the same. We can arrange your passage through once you've shown your willingness to cooperate." 

Finn didn't trust that easy, but he didn't exactly have much wiggle room. "Alright. I'll send Mr Truth your way shortly. Does that work for you?" 

"Certainly," Charlotte's voice was curt, but polite. "We'll conduct the first exchange by the road. Then we can arrange passage for you across the bridge. There's no need for things to get ugly."

"I quite agree," Finn lied. He didn't know much about Charlotte, but her old man wasn't someone to be taken lightly. You'd have to be an idiot to take her words at face value. 

If Shinsuke wasn't the melodramatic piece of shit that he was, he'd have kept hold of the other earpiece and he'd know the current situation but of course, the man had to make everything into an elaborate performance. Mind you, dealing with Flair, that unpredictable element might be their saving grace as much as it might otherwise have been their undoing. That was Finn's hope, anyway. C'mon, Shinsuke. Deliver. 

Grimly, Finn aimed at the two captives. "Your boss must really like you both. She's gonna trade. Make no mistake though, you aren't safe yet. I ain't too attached to the lasses we're tradin' for, so there's no certainties, no promises. Any funny business, I shoot." 

Both R-Truth and Carmella nodded vigorously. For once, they had the combined sense to keep their mouths shut. That was what they called a Christmas miracle. Except it wasn’t Christmas. Fuck, Finn had no idea what date it was whatsoever. Not that it mattered. If this thing went tits up, little baby Jesus’ birthday would be the least of his concerns.

He cast one long look back at the cliff edge and gritted his teeth. I’m counting on you, Shin. This better be worth it.

Then he started walking toward the road.

-

His car was, thank fuck, in one piece. Not a scratch on it, at a glance. He was never, ever letting anyone else behind the wheel again. Ever. 

Bayley and Sasha were on their knees, four armed militia semi-circled around them. Two more stood guard on the bridge. Yeah, these odds were so unfathomably shit. You may as well take a skinny dip in offal then jump in a shark tank. Except there weren’t any sharks anymore. So this was worse. 

Bayley was trying to warn him of something, but her mouth was taped shut. Probably trying to tell him it was a trap. Despite what he’d said earlier, Finn felt a grudging fondness for her, and he hoped he could get them all out of this alive. After this, he was done. No more lunatic jobs for Triple H. He’d settle down. Take up homesteading, maybe. Not fucking likely. The chances of that were about as high as the chances of getting out of this one unscathed. He met Sasha’s eyes. She shook her head, warning, only reinforcing the feeling in his gut. Oh, he knew. He knew. He told himself he was only doing this for the car, and the precious resources it contained. Otherwise, he’d cut and run. 

Now he turned his attention to the threat at hand. With the sun setting in the background, her hair was lit up like a lion’s mane. Charlotte Flair, every inch her father’s daughter. Tall, statuesque, with a very particular nose, there were no prizes for picking her out from the rabble. There was a certain regal authority she bore that made that clear, if her very appearance alone wasn’t enough. Finn inclined his head respectfully, then gave R-Truth a shove forward without warning. Wordlessly, Flair jerked her head, and two of her grunts pulled Sasha to her feet, one of them cutting her hands loose. The hostages each began their slow walk to an unmarked midpoint between them. All the while, Finn kept his eyes carefully fixed upon that woman.

“Where’s your partner?” she asked, surveying the scene, clearly, vividly on edge. 

“Went separate ways,” Finn replied levelly. “He didn’t fancy taking on you or your family. He split.” Finn frowned. “We had a deal. You made that with me, not with that chickenshit bastard. I’d hope you can still honour that.”

“Why do you need to cross the bridge?”

Finn shrugged. “Work. I don’t get paid to know why, Miss Flair.” He risked a glance at Sasha, who had reached that unspoken midpoint and was about to step over it.

Several things happened at once. Charlotte Flair moved a hand, her soldiers raised their guns at Finn and started to step forward. Finn readied himself for the worst, for the shooting to start. But it never came. Because Charlotte, Flair that she may have been, had made one gross miscalculation.

She had kept her back to the cliff.

Shinsuke surged forward, eyes glinting with wild insanity. In an instant, he was behind Flair, blade to her throat, ear-to-ear grin on his face. Flair’s men turned in an instant, guns trained on the swordsman, but he only tutted warningly and pressed cold steel into Charlotte’s throat. 

“Took ya long enough, arsehole!” Finn called out. He was grinning despite himself. Charlotte bloody Flair  was at their mercy. From what he’d seen of Shin, mercy was not a strong point of his.

“Stopped for a nap,” Shinsuke replied, yawning leisurely like some great wild cat. “Got here, didn’t I? ‘Thank you, Shinsuke,’ you say. ‘No problem, Finn,’ say I. ‘You trust me more now, yes?’ Then,” he continued, very seriously. “We fistbump. Sun sets behind us. Beautiful moment. Bonding. We are...bros.” Finn ignored him.

“You can’t hurt me,” Charlotte stated. “You won’t make it away alive. Stand down, Mr Nakamura.”

“Ha! Finn, she knows my name!” Shinsuke gave a barking laugh. “Then you know, I don’t care . Call my bluff, Little Miss Flair, sword move fast. This distance, I cut off your head before your pets shoot. Fall down under rain of bullets. Very...dramatic. You know anything, Miss Flair, daddy teach you anything, he tell you there is nothing Shinsuke Nakamura love more than being crazy and dramatic. So. We cross bridge now, blah blah blah, you let us go, whatever. Don’t care.” Again, he yawned. “Tired. Need a nap for real. Your turn, Finn. I’m bored now.”

Of course he was. Of course. Only he could confidently declare boredom in a situation like this. What a fucking problem . Rolling his eyes, Finn stepped up. 

“We’re gonna get in the car. You too, Flair. Nobody is gonna follow us, you hear. Let’s say three hours. After that, I’ll be a bit more understanding if you decide to get on our arse. We clear?”

“ Crystal ,” Charlotte hissed, with a cold fury Finn had never seen the likes of before, from anyone. She hated being outplayed. 

Nobody lowered their guns much, but everyone piled into the car unimpeded, Charlotte in the back middle, in between Shinsuke and Bayley, a prisoner from both sides. Finn didn’t want to think how her old man would react to this whole thing. Making an enemy of Ric Flair had very much not been on today’s to-do list but that was how the cards had fallen. As always, he’d work with it. And blame Nakamura for whatever went wrong.

He put the car in gear and they were off.

-

Tense silence.

“So,” Flair began, her tone pointed. “An Irishman. A medic. A chemist. And you.” She glared at Nakamura. “Inoki’s student. What could possibly bring all four of you together?”

Finn’s head jerked at that name. “You worked with Antonio Inoki directly?” He couldn’t disguise his amazement. That man was the biggest name in their business on the other side of the Pacific. Rumours of corruption and cold-blooded murder had dogged him for years.

Charlotte laughed. “He didn’t tell you? He was Inoki’s protege. The favoured son. Before he went insane. What a disappointment you turned out to be. How far you’ve fallen.” She turned her attention to the women now. “And you two. I thought you had more sense than this. Throwing your lot in with maniacs. It will be the death of you.” I will , she meant. If she got her way, they’d be crow feed by dawn. 

“Just shut up,” Sasha snapped. “None of us wanna hear it, so shut your damn mouth.”

Charlotte smirked. She’d hit a nerve. For all that Sasha and Bayley were skilled, they’d never been called upon to hide their emotions like this before. Meanwhile, Shinsuke showed no sign of even listening. He was tracing patterns on the window, his long, elegant fingers tapping a rhythm. His expression was unreadable, even to Finn.

“What’s your stake in this, Irish?” Charlotte asked. “You didn’t even know who he really was? Why involve yourself?”

“I’m just the driver,” Finn replied curtly. “I won’t be involved in any of this much longer. I finish up, and that’s it. I don’t care what these lot do. I don’t care who they are. I have my job. That’s all there is to it.”

Charlotte shook her head. “You’re too smart for that to be true. You’ve wondered, haven’t you, about all of this? Now. What’s the job?” She was talking to herself now, just filling the quiet. “You needed to cross the bridge. Which means…” Realisation and shock hit her in equal measure. “ Oh . You’re going to Rey’s. So you’re-”

“I said shut up, already. You leave Rey Mysterio out of this.”

Charlotte’s smile grew, into a lean, predatory grin. “You’re on a wild goose chase for the Trace Italian.”

“You don’t believe it exists?” Finn asked curiously.

She laughed. “I know it exists. But you’ll never find it.”

“What if we had coordinates?”

“Useless,” Flair chuckled. “Utterly useless. They might show you where it’s been, if you’re lucky, even, you could find a trail. But nobody’s caught it. It’s a fata morgana. However close you feel you’re getting, it is always, always, just that bit out of reach. That’s when you die.”

Finn felt a chill run up his spine. He understood what Charlotte was saying. He just didn’t want to. “You’re saying it moves. It... moves ?”

In the rearview mirror, he watched her nod, and cursed. That was why the person he’d known had never found it. That was why it had only brought death. That was why Finn hated this thing, and that was why he’d be out of it as soon as he could. Soon, so very soon.

The Trace Italian was mobile. Whatever coordinates they had might be a dead end. He looked to Shinsuke, trying to gauge his reaction.

His erstwhile companion only smiled. “I am crazy, Miss Flair. This is my idea of fun.” He hooted with laughter. “Chasing the impossible, Finn! The end of the rainbow!”

Wasn’t there supposed to be a leprechaun at the end of a rainbow? Was this Shinsuke’s weird way of inviting him to continue their road trip? Probably. Finn said nothing. He liked Shinsuke, dammit, but he wasn’t ready to throw everything away, throw his life away, on an impossible quest that would likely kill him. Still, the man’s enthusiasm was pretty infectious. It was...actually tempting. There was a part of him that wanted to see this through. He’d made an enemy of the Flairs. What else did he have to lose?

“Alright. I’m in.”

Shinsuke beamed, with that specific smile Finn was learning to tell came just before he told a truly terrible joke. Oh no .

“Hi, in. I’m Shin.”

For fuck’s sake . He watched his colleague collapse into laughter and rolled his eyes. But the irritation was more fond than genuine.

They were friends.

Having friends could get you killed.

But what did Finn have to lose?

Chapter Text

Taking Charlotte hostage was a double edged sword if ever there was one. She was a good bargaining chip, but the threat her family posed was so great, so monumental, it almost wasn't worthwhile. They couldn't stop driving for a moment, only rotate in shifts while the other person caught some sleep. And someone always had to be awake, guarding Charlotte, so there was that, even if they sedated her - Sasha's idea, when the blonde woman had annoyed her too much. They had a limited amount of doses though, so that wasn't a permanent fix. Life, Finn mused, had gotten way too complicated. He'd just awoken from a restless nap, Sasha was driving, and by God he needed a piss. 

"Pull over," he mumbled to her. She gave him a weird look. "Call of nature, love."

"Fair enough," Sasha replied, switching to the brake and drawing them to a halt. "Anyone else gotta go?" she called into the back. 

Batley yawned. "I guess." She shook Charlotte by the shoulder. "Ice Princess is still out cold."

"Keep an eye on her," Finn said to Sasha. "C'mon, Shinsuke." He leaned into the back to his friend. Who was quiet. He kept glancing back, checking for pursuers. "Just taking a leak. We're not staying long."

Shinsuke grunted, and climbed out of the car. Finn followed suit. 

He dealt with what he needed to, and zipped his fly back up after. He stretched vaguely and yawned, then looked sideways at Shinsuke. "You're thinking. I can tell. What's cooking in that head of yours?" 

Shinsuke shrugged. "Never tell anyone your game," he murmured absently. "Everything should be secret until it's not."

"Sounds like a recipe for disaster," Finn replied. "You can trust me. You know that. I've trusted you more than I have anyone, in years. I've put my bloody life on the line for you, Shin. What's the plan?" 

Shinsuke sighed. He looked older, sort of wiser: like an entirely different man. Someone aloof and strangely elegant. Distant. "Flairs’ nasty people. Inoki taught me that much. They'll hunt us forever, Finn. They don't forget quick." He was quiet, staring back into the cold dark of the desert night. "Sorry. Dragged you into this."

"Don't apologise," Finn replied. "I knew what I was doing when I climbed aboard this crazy train. I'm in this for the long haul. You know that." He frowned. "Not like you to let stuff eat at you like this."

Shinsuke gave a faint smile. "Rule number 1 million and four, Finn. Don't dwell on the big shit. Sends you nuts . You wake up in a military hospital in Guam and they say, psychotic, psychotic. So. Break out. Go to the states. Leave the bad shit in the past." He took a long, deep breath and looked at Finn with a cool, calm intelligence. "I know you know, what that feel like. You were the Demon. You were dangerous motherfucker, ha! Funny we didn't meet back then."

The thought made Finn pull a face. "Thank fuck. Wouldn't have liked you. You're too goddamn sharp when you want to be. And the sword thing woulda pissed me off."

"Used a gun back then," Shinsuke remarked. "Was a decorated sniper. For real."

"No way," Finn breathed. "Doesn't that require, like, patience?" 

Shinsuke laughed. "Yeah. Too much. Got bored." He glanced back again, scanning the horizon keenly for potential pursuers. "We gotta keep moving, Finn. Get Rey. He knows underdog life. Can think strategy, protect us from the Flairs until we reach the Trace."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Makes sense. Your plan is just to get other people to plan for you. Yet again."

"Called assets, Finn. Using them smart." He pulled one of his weird faces, and the mystique that had possessed him until then evaporated. "Tired. Going to sleep now. Night-night, Finn." He walked back to the car without another word. 

Finn scoffed. "I'll drive the next stretch," he called to Sasha, keen to get back behind the wheel. Struggling for whatever control he could grasp. 

However faint it was. 

-

It was dark, and the desert sky was littered with stars. Judging from their map, it was maybe an hour or so left until they reached their destination. Rey’s place. Charlotte slept on. Still, Finn didn’t lose the feeling he had, that she was watching him. He could feel eyes boring a hole in his back. Something felt amiss. Finn’s instincts prickled, but he didn’t take his eyes off the seemingly endless road, searching ahead for some sign of an end. Sasha was taking her turn to sleep; Shinsuke also at least seemed to have conked out. God only knew if he was play-acting. Bayley was fiddling with some gadget, distracted. She was taking the boredom very badly. Her and Shinsuke were two peas in a pod in that sense. No attention span, either of them. How the hell was one of them a talented hacker and the other an ex-sniper? Seriously? Didn’t both of those things require patience, especially the latter? At this point, Finn was prepared to believe anything of anyone. 

Bayley’s tinkering got louder, and Finn glanced around to tell her to cut it out, at the precise moment a bright light shone through the window behind them, a shooting star coming closer, a loud whirring noise building in intensity. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Christ on a tricycle. The Flairs had broke out the big guns

“Aw, shit,” Finn muttered. “Wakey-wakey, eggs and fuckin’ bakey, they’ve got a bleeding helicopter.” He stepped on the accelerator, giving it as much as he could.

Sasha started awake. Bayley dropped her screwdriver, fumbling with it, only to find it jabbed into her throat. 

“I’ll kill the little girl,” Charlotte hissed. “Don’t think I won’t. I’m not afraid to get blood on my hands.”

The drugs must have worn off already, shit. Finn cursed internally. Sasha looked furious, going for her dart gun, but Charlotte tutted warningly. 

“Pull over, Irish. Now. I’ll see you get to walk away from this.”

“Not bloody likely,” Finn retorted. 

“Kill her and you die,” Sasha spat at her. The blonde woman laughed. 

“And my father kills all of you. We can negotiate, at least, from here.”

“Finn, you can’t let her die,” Sasha growled. “Stop the car. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t save her. You won’t get away, no matter what the bitch promises. I’ll make sure of it.”

All the while, they were still speeding along, helicopter gaining ground at every moment. It would be on them soon. In the midst of all this, there was a loud, dramatic yawn. 

“Why did you take her hostage?” Shinsuke whined, petulantly. “I am prettier. Better hostage.” He cracked his neck. “Besides, I know something you don’t~” 

Charlotte scoffed. “What might that be?”

“Lean closer,” Shinsuke demanded. Rolling her eyes, Charlotte complied. Shinsuke beamed. He leaned in and whispered something that made Charlotte blanch, one hand moving like a pianist’s, dancing in mid-air. 

She didn’t have time to react before Bayley tasered her. In the cramped back seat, the shock travelled, electrocuting both Bayley and Shinsuke too, sending the former crashing against the window. But what Finn would remember was the grim, dark look in Shinsuke’s eyes, the resolution in spite of the pain. Just for a moment, and then he too was out. 

‘ She has a taser ’, he’d said. Finn knew it. And he’d given Bayley the signal to act. He let other people do the heavy lifting, the planning, the big stuff. But he’d take a tasering if it had to be done. He’d gone insane, apparently, and woken up in a psych ward. What the fuck was he doing? This fucking guy.

Sharing a look with Sasha, Finn doubled down on the gas. The helicopter still loomed overhead, like a bird of prey waiting to strike. 

There was a light at the end of the road. A few lights, all bunched together. They looked like a settlement.

Rey’s.

The helicopter hesitated, hovering in mid-air, and then coming to land. Its occupants got out, and Finn saw one of them punch their vehicle. They knew they couldn’t follow into Rey’s territory.

Finn didn’t let up, and drove on toward the lights, no matter what lay in store. It was entirely possible he was driving them to their deaths. Well, between a rock and a hard place, as they said. Though they also said ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’.

There was a barbed wire fence coming up ahead of them. A closed gate. Finn looked at Sasha and raised his eyebrows. She just glared at him, still mad he hadn’t immediately saved Bayley, no doubt. That woman. If pettiness had a name, it would definitely be Sasha Banks. Finn drew to a halt in front of the fence. It was hard to see what was on the other side. House lights, a settlement. At least four, five buildings. A small farm. Around five hundred metres behind them, the helicopter waited. Finn had no doubt if they didn’t have a live hostage, they would be dead.

“Get us in, Sasha,” he hissed. There was no time for pleasantries.

Sasha huffed, but rolled down her window and stuck her head out. “Rey, it’s us.” She said, apparently to thin air. “Open the gate.” Silence, and the wind. “Please, Rey. I can explain everything. Just let us in and I’ll tell you what’s going on.” Nothing happened. Sasha swallowed her pride, and resorted to her final strategy. “Bayley needs medical attention. Please.”

The gates creaked open. They drove in.

The gates closed behind them.

Finn looked into the back. Bayley was retching, probably about to throw up. In his car. Charlotte was slumped, eerily still, unmoving. And Shinsuke, well, he was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face. He offered a watery grin. 

“What did she do to that thing?” he groaned. “It felt like a hundred times worse than usual.”

“Do you get tased often?” Sasha asked, concerned.

Shinsuke laughed weakly. “ Pass .” He checked on Charlotte briefly. “She’s breathing. She’ll wake up soon with killer headache, and it’ll serve her right. She’s not nice.”

Finn scoffed. An apt summary, as always. He opened the door and stepped out the car, with his hands up. “We come in peace, yeah?”

He just had to hope Rey would believe him.

Chapter Text

While Bayley threw up by the side of the vehicle, Sasha rubbing her back in soothing motions, Finn fixed his eyes on the farm buildings. There was an impressive line of defence between where they'd stopped the car, and the settlement proper: barbed wire, burnt out husks of other vehicles, and God only knew what else. There was an improvised wooden watchtower, from which a young man climbed down. He was tall and stocky, in his early twenties, and dressed in faded, scruffy sportswear. He also was holding a crossbow. 

"Weapons down. My pops' rules." He had the calm gaze of a seasoned pro, trained by someone who knew what they were doing. Finn reluctantly complied - Shinsuke had dragged Charlotte out of the car and had his sword to her unconscious throat. "You too. We can take it from here."

"Dominik," Bayley breathed, catching her breath. 

The young man smiled at her and Sasha. "He's not pleased you brought guests."

"What else is new?" Sasha muttered. "Bayley's hurt, Dominik, I don't give a flying fuck what your dad thinks. We didn't exactly have many options."

Dominik, Rey's grown-ass son, huh , shrugged. "Yeah I get that, Dad's just paranoid. Take her through to the med bay, they'll check her over properly. You two, though, I'll take you to my father." He gestured at Charlotte, who was groaning and starting to stir. Holy shit, that woman was built tough. "Her too. Don't worry, we'll be careful." 

Shinsuke pulled a face, but sheathed his sword and pushed Charlotte over to Dominik. He wouldn't drop the blade though, clenching it tight, until his knuckles went white. This didn't seem to faze Dominik too much, and he just ignored Shinsuke, as if a mad, sword-wielding Asian man was just another day. Without another word, he led them to one of the buildings, a small wood barn. Before entering, he knocked at the door twice, then shoved it open. The room within looked like an armoury, fill of row upon row of guns. There was nobody in sight. Dominik said something in Spanish, indicating Charlotte, who by now was blinking awake, irritable and confused. She started to struggle, only to find herself dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, with a crossbow aimed at her throat. 

"Who are you people, and why is Charlotte Flair semi-conscious in my storeroom?" A surprisingly rough, only faintly accented voice came, from just behind them. A man stepped out of the shadows, adjusting a vivid patterned mask that covered not just his face, but pretty much his whole head, leaving just eye holes and his mouth visible. He was short, shorter than his own son, and slighter too, but not by all that much. Rey Mysterio might have been a small man, but he was clearly strong. 

"Long story," Finn replied. "Sorta had to take her hostage. Bayley tasered her just now."

"And me!" Shinsuke declared proudly. "Was too close. Got some of the zaps. Now my brain is all fried and I lose all English and common sense." 

Rey murmured something to his son. Dominik looked unconvinced, but Rey waved him off. The young man left, closing the door behind him. "Introductions. Now."

"Finn Bálor, Shinsuke Nakamura," Finn said quickly. "We got some data we need you to access on behalf of the McMahon's and Triple H."

Rey visibly frowned under the mask. "And this leads to you taking a Flair hostage how?" 

"I'll admit, things got a bit out of hand. What's with the mask, anyway?" He was curious. Figured he may as well get the lie of the land, see where they stood. Right now, Rey was still a significant threat. 

"A vow," Rey replied coolly. "Strangers aren't permitted to see my face. Only family." 

"Huh. You religious?" 

"Catholic," Rey replied. "You're Irish, yes? You believe as well?" 

Finn shrugged. "If there's a God, I feel like he's a pretty sick bastard. Sorry to disappoint."

"It's alright," Rey said calmly. "Faith is a challenge in times like these. I understand, even if I disagree." Finn was getting to like Rey quickly; the steady, level-headed calm he exuded made a good impression. Now his attention went to Charlotte. "I'm sorry for the poor welcome, Miss Flair. I'll have a doctor check you over, and we can come to some deal to release you, I'm sure. We never had any problems before, did we? This whole business can be a misunderstanding."

Charlotte laughed breathlessly. "Wait until you hear why they're here. You won't be so keen to protect them then."

Rey turned his attention back to the both of them. "What does she mean by that?" 

Finn cast a sidelong look at Shinsuke, who eventually produced the data chip, rolling it across his knuckles like a pickpocket with a coin. 

"You can decrypt," he said, matter-of-fact as anything. "And interpret. You have the key. You use the data to make algorithm, help us. Find what we need."

Rey inhaled sharply. "We'll talk about this later. I'll get Miss Flair the medical attention she needs." He eyed Shinsuke. "You mentioned you got hit too. I can have someone look you over."

The tall, lanky streak of idiocy shook his head. "Only after we do talking."

"Whatever you say." Rey picked up an assault rifle, which looked comically large in his hands, pointing it at Charlotte. "Get up, and walk." Begrudgingly, she obeyed. Rey looked at Finn. "Dominik will take you to the main house for dinner. Don't leave his sight. There's no point in trying anything here, I hear and see everything. Behave yourself, and you'll be welcome guests. Disrupt our peace, and I'll kill you myself."

"Not very Catholic of you," Shinsuke tutted, pouting. 

Rey gave a thin smile. "Like I said, faith is challenging." He ushered Charlotte away, out of the armoury, whispering something to his son before he left. 

Dominik nodded, lowering his crossbow but not his guard. "Come with me."

What choice did they have? 

-

It turned out to be a good call - dinner was delicious, five bean chilli and corn, the likes of which Finn hadn't had in years. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until the bowl was put in front of him, with a bit of flatbread to go with, and some cool iced tea. The kitchen was bustling, full of people coming and going and all of them avoiding Finn and Shinsuke like they had a real and actual plague. Huh. Dominik smiled ruefully, leading them out of the kitchen to sit outside in the cool evening air.

“Don’t take it personally,” he was saying, as he ate, crossbow sat by his side within immediate reach. “We don’t get outsiders much. Bayley and Sasha come by every few months with supplies, and that’s pretty much it.” He took a huge bite of flatbread and grinned. “Betcha didn’t expect a homecooked meal. The land here’s pretty good, we can farm most things, and sometimes we get supplies brought in for things ya can’t grow.” 

Finn could tell this kid, this young man , wanted an out. Wanted to see the world, travel, wanted more from his life than guarding a bunch of civilians and doing farm chores. He could tell the kid had training from the way he held himself. But he also knew the world wasn’t as pleasant as Rey’s, and that Dominik might well survive but that the act of survival would change him. Finn wasn’t about to give him any illusions. The world was a nightmare, and Dominik was better off staying put. 

“It’s nice,” he replied, levelly. “You got a good thing here.”

“I guess,” Dominik said, noncommittally, confirming every single one of Finn’s speculations. “I mean, I remember before, when we were on the run, Dad never let any of us go hungry. I don’t miss it, this place is better than anything I had growing up. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Shinsuke shovelled a huge spoonful of chilli into his face and grinned. “Oh, so you don’t wanna hear crazy stories. Gotcha.”

“I’m a grown man,” Dominik retorted. “I don’t need to hear fairytales from some idiot mercs that blew in to beg for my father’s help. I’d say go tell them to the kids, but there’s no way I’m letting you two anywhere near any children.”

Definitely early twenties, Finn concluded. Prickly, trying to establish himself as his own man. It had to be hard, honestly, living somewhere in your father’s shadow. Finn hadn’t seen either of his parents since leaving home, and assumed they were probably dead at this point. 

“I once killed a man with a set of chopsticks,” Shinsuke said.

“Sounds gross and inconvenient. Don’t elaborate.”

“Once fell out of third story window onto  trampoline, bounced back up and stabbed guy who pushed me in throat.”

“That sounds like bullshit.”

“Yeah. Was only second story really,” Shinsuke admitted sheepishly. That didn’t make the story sound any less made up. Dominik was starting to nod along, begrudgingly coming around. “Got eaten by a shark. Died. Was very sad.”

Now Dominik laughed. “You’re nuts. Does anyone ever fall for your shit?”

Finn eyed Shinsuke carefully. He was still trying to figure out Shin’s vague comments about Guam, whether those were real, or another story for the drama. Shinsuke met his eyes, and gave a faint smile.

“I’m open book. Not my fault if people illiterate.”

I trust you to figure it out on your own . 

Finn wanted to groan out loud and yell at the guy but said nothing. He just clapped Dominik on the shoulder. “Don’t even bother with him, he’s a waking nightmare. Thanks for the food. Didn’t get a welcome like this anywhere in years.”

Dominik shrugged it off. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’d die in seconds if you pulled anything here.” He laughed. “Kidding. Minutes, not seconds.” 

Shinsuke almost choked on his food, he was guffawing that hard. What an idiot. Finn rolled his eyes and mopped up the last of his chili before setting the bowl aside. 

“You know much about your dad’s work? What he did before?”

Dominik shook his head. “When I get sworn in, he’ll explain. That’s how it is.”

“Sworn in?”

“To the society,” Dominik answered, through a mouthful of flatbread, as if that were supposed to mean anything. “Wait. You didn’t know. I thought you had to have something to do with it, since he’s giving you an audience, but-”

Finn stood up. “I think we need to talk to your old man right about now.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” came a voice from behind them. Rey had been listening in from just out of sight. “We have a lot to figure out in a very short amount of time. You both have a lot to account for.” He motioned for them to follow. Dominik stood up too, but was waved off. You could just sense the frustration radiating off him.

Finn shot him an apologetic look, before going after Rey. After all, time was apparently of the essence. 

The sooner they talked this all out, the better.

-

Rey led them through to the infirmary, where Bayley was sat in bed, insisting she was fine, and Sasha was standing over her with arms folded and a look on her face that said she was more than prepared to personally sedate her friend if it meant she would stay in bed.

"Rey," Sasha exhaled. "Tell her she needs rest."

Bayley scoffed. "Tell her I'm fine. It was just a mild electric shock. I'm all better now."

"Tell her we need to make sure."

"Tell her to quit fussing and I'm fine."

"Tell-"

Rey coughed, interrupting the banter. "I think you should all tell me precisely what's going on. Starting from the beginning."

Everyone looked at Finn. Because of course. He was apparently the leader of these merry misfits. He sighed, and started to talk, words pouring uncontrollably off his tongue, getting ahead of themselves, on and on and on, until the facts were laid out in front of them and the air felt heavy with the weight of all that had been said. Even Bayley and Sasha looked surprised at the full details of the situation. 

"That, my friend," Rey said, "Is what those in the trade call clinically insane."

"Tell me about it," Finn muttered. “This was supposed to be where I got off the crazy train, but apparently I hate myself enough to sign up for yet more of this bollocks.” Not that he had a choice, really. Target on his back from the Flairs, going it alone would be suicide. At least with Shinsuke he had a chance at survival. 

Rey’s nod told Finn he understood this. “We need to figure out a way to distract the Flairs. We’ll send Charlotte back to them, but I’m afraid they won’t let you leave this compound alive.”

A lightbulb lit up in Finn’s head. “Then we don’t. All they need is to see us die. You can handle the details, right?”

Rey nodded. “How do we all feel about hanging?”

A long silence. Broken at last by Shinsuke’s cheerful voice.

“I feel fantastic! Yay, hanging!”

At least someone was happy.

-

Of course, there was already a gallows, just waiting there for them. It was in view of the gates, so those outside could bear witness to their ‘execution’. 

As part of the act Rey had tied them up, something that put Finn on edge. He didn’t like placing his life in a stranger’s hands so easily. Still, if things went south, he knew Shinsuke for sure had like, six hundred knives on his person, so they could cut themselves free, or something. Whatever. 

Sasha and Bayley were, predictably, exempt from this charade. Typical. That was part of the deal for Charlotte’s safe return - Sasha and Bayley’s lives, Shinsuke and Finn’s deaths. Guaranteed, or your money back.

“Do you trust Rey?” Finn murmured.

Shinsuke shrugged, as best as he could with the ropes tight around them. “Doesn’t matter. If he betrays us, we die. Public hanging...dramatic way to go. Don’t hate it.” He sighed, looking almost wistful. “Could accept a cool death like that with you.”

Something about his calmness rankled Finn, the way he didn’t seem to care if he lived or died. Like his life meant nothing. It wasn’t that he was actively suicidal, more that he didn’t value his own life as a thing worth keeping. There was a difference between living and just survival, Finn knew that better than most, but he’d always been so bitterly determined to cling to the survival he had, it was jarring to meet someone for whom survival was a whim. Shinsuke seemed so upbeat and alive , seeing him like this was a stark reminder of the lives they led.

“Hey,” Finn said, firmly. “Don’t fucking talk like that. If Rey betrays us, I’ll do my best to get us both out of here alive. Got it?”

Shinsuke laughed darkly. “Okay, Finn. Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious, Shinsuke,” Finn hissed. “You’re a friend. Friends don’t let friends die.”

The expression on Shinsuke’s face was unreadable, rare for a man whose emotions were normally so transparent. For a moment, he looked almost sad. Then he said, quietly;

“Not worth your effort, Finn.”

Finn scoffed. “Well, tough luck. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Thank you,” Shinsuke replied, his voice low and pained, and then the moment passed. Good. It was getting awkward anything.

Charlotte, a free woman again, approached, closely watched by Rey and Dominik. She smiled mockingly at Finn.

“Looks like you made the wrong call, Irish. I hope you die slowly.”

“Same to you,” Finn growled, and Charlotte laughed.

“Enjoy the drop,” she called, walking out of the gates - and, hopefully, out of their lives for the fucking forseeable, luck willing.

Not that luck ever was. Willing, that is.

They were marched up onto the gallows. Each of them was wearing a special harness under their shirts. The fact Rey just had those lying around boggled Finn’s mind. How many times had they been required? Dominik placed hoods over their heads, deftly hooking the support hook to the loop on their harnesses.

The rope was placed around their necks. Finn swallowed. Took a deep breath. Prepared himself. Tried to trust Rey.

Breathed in. Breathed out.

They dropped.

Chapter Text

“They’re gone.”

Finn opened his eyes, exhaled, and sat up from where he’d been laying on the warehouse floor. 

Rey was standing over him - probably, Finn noted with detached amusement, the only time Rey had towered over another grown man. Hah. Hilarious . He offered a hand up, which Finn accepted. Despite his height, Rey was deceptively strong. Mind you, Finn wasn’t exactly a giant so he shouldn’t really talk shit.

Beside him, Shinsuke sprang to his feet in one fluid, energetic movement. All that languid, depressive energy from before the hanging seemed to have dissipated - this was manic Shinsuke Nakamura, bouncing from toe to toe in an attempt to hide the cracks in his psyche that Finn was learning to spot. He let the act go unaddressed. Calling Shinsuke out would have been needlessly cruel, and Finn didn’t want to prod old wounds.

“Let’s talk next moves,” Rey said calmly. As ever, a strategist. Finn had a feeling he’d grow to appreciate that, but right now he was finding the switch from team planner to dogsbody a little jarring. “I have the data and programme to track the Trace, and I’m running those calculations now. We can’t make any moves yet until we know the Flairs don’t have eyes on us. Three days, then we set off.”

“So you’re the boss now?” Finn couldn’t help jibing. After everything he’d done for this job. This was his mission.

“Woah, not what I meant at all,” Rey replied, throwing up his hands defensively. “I just wanted things clear. If you don’t like my ideas, tell me.”

Finn shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I want things clear between us all too. I’m not a following orders kinda guy, an’ Shin’s Shin.”

“I’m a delight ,” Shinsuke beamed. “Everybody say so. Well, actually they say ‘what the fuck, you crazy, go die’, but my English so bad, I assume that mean good things only.”

Finn scoffed, and Rey also laughed a little. For all his weirdness, Shinsuke was sure as hell good at alleviating tension. “How many of those people did ya decapitate after they said that, Shin, pal?”

Shinsuke made a show of counting on his fingers, then pulled a face. “Lost count, Finn.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jesus, they were becoming a right old double act, weren’t they? Next thing you know, they’d be finishing one another’s sentences. “Anyway, what I mean is, if we’re gonna be in this together, we gotta do it as equals. Everyone gets a say, an’ we all have realistic expectations.”

Rey nodded coolly. “That’s a sensible way of working.”

“Finn has aaaaaallllll the good ideas,” Shinsuke drawled. “Me, just improvise.”

“Whatever works,” Rey replied. He seemed to have the innate ability to take anything in his stride, including the outrageous antics of one Shinsuke Nakamura. Good. if he’d been a dick about Shinsuke, Finn wouldn’t have liked working with him. He realised he was oddly protective of the other man. He was allowed to call him a nutter, but he disliked other people’s judgements. Even if they were fair.

Had he really been that lonely that he’d latch onto the first nutter to come his way? He realised something - even after this job, he didn’t want to be alone again. Whether he worked with Bayley and Sasha or stuck around at Rey’s, or went on the road with Shinsuke, if he made it out of this, he resolved to make a change in things. No more pure survival. He was going to try and live.

“Looks like we have three days to kill,” Finn inhaled. “You got any booze?”

“Booze, yes.” And there was a smile visible under Rey’s mask. What else? “But I got one better too. Let’s just say not everything we farm here is food.”

Finn’s jaw dropped. “You’re growing weed?” Rey nodded. “Rey, mate, forget all that drama just now. I reckon we’re gonna get along grand after all.”

-

Finn couldn’t rightly recall the last time he’d sat and rolled a joint, but what do you know, the muscle memory was still there. Just like riding a bike. He lit it and took a long drag, feeling that familiar wave wash over him. He felt like he was a lad back in Ireland again, not that there was much of Ireland left unflooded. The world was different. Were there still people out there, he wondered, working 9-5 jobs and going home to their family, so boring and mundane that the apocalypse had passed them by. Just living, ordinary, unremarkable lives. Finn had seen factories run by refugees who’d settled into this new normal without blinking. But that had been long ago now. He wondered how many people still thought of this as a slump, a recession, rather than what it was - total collapse of government, society - everything going down the drain, and militias rising to fill the power vacuum.

Jesus. He really hadn’t done pot in a while, had he?

“Shit, that’s strong,” he said approvingly, passing the blunt to Bayley who had decided to join them along with Sasha, who’d been warming up to them a little before and who all of a sudden had clammed up, going back to acid glares and irritation. “Rey, you’re a feckin’ legend. Ya got any decent beer? I’d kill for somethin’ imported, American beer all tastes like piss.”

Rey lit his own joint, inhaling deeply. “We brew our own. I’ll fetch you some.” He laughed. “Should have known an Irishman would try to drink us out of house and home.”

“Between me ‘n’ Shin, we’re just tryna cover as many stereotypes as we can,” Finn remarked. That got a laugh from the others, even a smirk from Sasha. She still seemed in her own head though, even as Bayley passed her the joint. 

Shinsuke jostled Finn, teasing. “You not a redhead though, Finn. Disappointing. We swap you for that girl with the robots, better value for money.” He accepted Rey’s blunt and twirled it playfully in his long fingers before putting it anywhere near his mouth.

“You shut the fuck up about Becky Lynch, Shin,” Finn warned, wagging a mocking finger. “I’m a well-adjusted individual compared to her.”

“Finn, you used to disembowel people and paint ceiling with blood,” Shinsuke pointed out. “That’s not very well-adjusted.”

Bayley’s jaw dropped. “You used to do what?”

Finn groaned. “It was a long time ago. Call it a phase.”

“Nuh-uh,” Bayley shook her head. “A phase is like, getting an undercut or going emo, not murdering people really horribly. What the fuck ? I thought you were the normal one.”

He shot Shinsuke a glare - way to go, throwing him under the bus - before giving Bayley an answer. “It was work shit. I wanted a trademark, a reputation. So I used to put on a shitload of facepaint an’ well. What he said.”

“It was nuts ,” Shinsuke confirmed.

“What happened?” Sasha asked, and she was looking at him like she could see right through him and didn’t like what she saw. “You lose your taste for it?”

He shrugged. “Somethin’ like that. Stopped getting any kinda rush from it. Fell into a rut. What is this, group therapy? Pass us the wacky baccy, Shin, I’m goin’ loony here.”

Shinsuke obliged, an innocent little grin on his face as if he hadn’t been the one to bring up the topic. Asshole. Time was, Finn would’ve properly laid out anyone who brought up his past, maybe even killed them, but somehow he didn’t resent this too much. Probably the weed talking. Instead, he breathed in, and out, and passed the spliff back to his friend. 

Not long after, Dominik arrived with the beer. It was strong, homebrewed stuff, but it was nice. Both Rey and his son seemed pleased to have an Irishman’s seal of approval.

Later still, they sat around a fire and passed around a flask of spirits. The stars overhead spun. Finn couldn’t recall a time he’d felt happier.

-

The morning after the night before came around, and Finn remembered what a hangover felt like. Oh Jesus. He hauled himself up and went for a piss, racking his brains to remember what had happened.

He remembered Shinsuke drunkenly throwing knives, his face flushed and red, still hitting the target every time. He remembered Sasha and Bayley dancing an old, old dance - the macarena. He remembered quietly sitting with Rey and just listening to the other man tell the stories behind his tattoos. All in all, he remembered the night well. No gaps, just a pleasant haze. He hadn’t drunk that much. 

They passed the next day uneventfully, shooting rabbits in the afternoon for dinner that evening. Finn felt like a real English country gentleman out on a shoot. Shinsuke didn’t join them. Instead, Finn watched Dominik at work with his crossbow and was profoundly impressed.

“Ya got a good kid, mate,” Finn said to Rey, as his host skinned the rabbits effortlessly.

“I know,” Rey replied. “He’s a grown man now. I like to think I raised him well, got him ready for the world outside this place. He’s young, he wants to travel. One day, I’ll have to let him go.”

“He’ll do grand,” Finn said, confident. “You wait and see.”

“He wants to come on this job,” Rey confessed. “I told him no. someone needs to hold down the fort, I said. I didn’t want to admit I don’t know if we’re coming back.” He looked at Finn seriously. “I want to come back. Want to grow old, have grandkids, see them grow up. That’s why I need to ask you a favour.”

“Depends on the favour,” Finn said, and Rey chuckled momentarily, before becoming serious again.

“If it comes down to me or Nakamura making it out alive, I want you to pick me. I got too much to live for, Finn. Please?”

He looked desperate. Finn had no idea what to say. Could he promise that? He inclined his head. “I’ll see what I can do. If it comes to that.” Which it wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let it.

“Thank you,” Rey replied. “I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Finn muttered. He didn’t want to give the possibility any more thought than was necessary. And no matter what, Shinsuke could never know. Even if, [when, when ] nothing came of it.

He could never be allowed to find out.

-

The morning they were to leave, Sasha pulled Finn aside. “Listen,” she began. Never a good start. “I appreciate this isn’t gonna be what you wanna hear, but I gotta do what’s right for myself and Bayley. We’re out.”

Finn frowned. Bayley had seemed pretty excited about setting off, when they’d talked last night. “Does she know?”

Sasha scoffed. “Like hell. I gave her a dose of sedatives. Should last most of the day, enough time for you to put distance between us. I can’t risk her.” In a smaller, younger voice, she added; “She’s my best friend.”

“I won’t lie, I’m fuckin’ relieved,” Finn admitted. “You girls are too good. This world’s fucked up. I’d be worried.”

“You’re alright, Finn Bálor,” Sasha said. “I know I’ve been a real bitch to you. Sorry.” 

“I wouldn’t trust me neither,” Finn shrugged. “It’s no worries.”

“You know where to find us.” She glanced around, then pressed three syringes into his hand. “Morphine, adrenaline, and a sedative. Just in case.”

“Thanks.” Awkward silence. “Guess I’ll be seein’ ya.” 

“Yeah. Seeya.” With that, Sasha turned and made her exit. Finn wondered if he’d ever see her again. Would it ever be safe to? Even if he came back alive from this, he couldn’t let the Flairs know that he and Shinsuke had lived. So - this was it, likely as not. It was just a shame he hadn’t got chance to say goodbye to Bayley. 

He went to the car. Rey was saying goodbye to his family. “You’re in charge,” he told Dominik, who nodded fervently. “Look after everyone.”

“I will.”

“I’ll swear you in when I get back,” Rey promised. What he meant by that, Finn wasn’t fully certain, but he had his suspicions. 

He was giving Finn a meaningful look, and Finn could feel his stomach churn. Quelling that hideous feeling, he went to Shinsuke, who was leaning against the car feigning disinterest in everything around them.

“The girls ain’t coming.” Shinsuke nodded, distant and unknowable. “It’s just you, me, Rey ‘n’ the road.”

“And the Trace,” Shinsuke said.

“Yeah,” Finn agreed. “And the Trace Italian.”

Chapter Text

They travelled fairly uneventfully for the first day and a half. Finn had thought it would be awkward, to have a relative stranger inserted into his and Shinsuke’s little roadtrip, but the change of pace was actually quite relaxing. Or perhaps it was the lack of immediate threat.

“I don’t understand something,” Finn asked over supper on the second evening [tinned soup, nothing fancy]. “What exactly do you know about the Trace that other people don’t? Like, how come you can track it?”

“I suppose I may as well tell you,” he said, with an air of reluctance. “My organisation developed this programme years ago. Not all of us wear masks, some of us blend into society instead. I walked that path before a while before going back to this. Anyway, one of these people, one of our....not quite leaders, we don’t operate like a company or a cult, we’re collaborative - someone we respected, let’s say. His name was Eddie. I knew him well, thought of him as a mentor.” He sighed. “A good man. We had our differences, disagreements...he thought I needed to prepare Dominik more for the world. I didn’t want to raise a killer. Eddie developed the programme to track the Trace. The code was encrypted and put on a flash drive, hidden in a man’s tooth. The key, I inherited. When Eddie died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Finn said, though the words rang hollow to his ears. Rey appeared to accept the feeble attempt at comfort, either way. 

He touched Finn’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry for whoever you lost too.”

Finn recoiled . He hadn’t even talked to Shinsuke about that. He didn’t intend to. That involved unpacking a lot of damage he wasn’t willing to deal with. And he couldn’t. Just. Couldn’t. Before he could say anything, Shinsuke leapt to his feet.

“I’m bored,” he declared. “Boring emo conversation is boooooooring.”

“What would you rather talk about?” Rey asked, amused.

Shinsuke yawned. “Something fun . If that world hadn’t gone to bad , what would you do for living? Doctor, lawyer, president?”

Rey mulled it over. “For me, this was a family business. The mercenary work, I mean. I never had a chance at anything else. I was fourteen when I first went into the field. When I first killed.” He laughed bitterly. “I’d want to be safe with my family. Eddie might be here, still. I’d like to not need to look over my shoulder every day. Settle down in the suburbs. That’s what I’d do.” He looked at Finn, expectant.

Finn shrugged. “I’d have gone back to Ireland, I guess. Maybe started a gym. Something like that. Like ya said, Rey, never really thought about anythin’ else.”

Shinsuke nodded. “I wanted to be an artist,” he said, quietly. “And here we are. Ha! Crazy, crazy world.” He gazed off at the horizon, and smiled. “Crazy world.”

-

“Thank you,” Finn said to him later, when Rey was out of earshot relieving himself. 

“What for?” Shinsuke looked genuinely baffled. “It’s nothing. I figure, you got things to keep to you. Secrety secrets. Your business.”

“It means a lot,” Finn insisted. It was easy to forget he’d barely known Shinsuke what, a week or two? They felt inseparable. Like two sides of the same coin. 

Shinsuke shrugged it off. He seemed almost awkward about it, like he’d been caught being genuine and was embarrassed. The bullshit had fallen away. It was a sign, maybe, that he’d become as fond of Finn as Finn was of him, as inextricably bound.

“Did ya really want to be an artist?” Finn asked.

“Liked drawing. Still do,” Shinsuke replied. “Have to show you sometime.”

“I’d like that.” He spotted Rey coming back. “Jesus, mate, were ya droppin’ a log out there? Been a feckin’ age.”

“Went for a walk,” Rey said. “Something around here doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s where the coordinates are tellin’ us to go,” Finn insisted. “But we should be careful. We can’t get complacent. I’ll take first watch.”

“I’ll take second.”

“You okay with last?” Finn asked Shinsuke, who shrugged noncommittally. “Alright, that settles it. Let’s get some sleep, aye, an’ we’ll press on in the mornin’.”

The night passed. Finn woke Rey for his watch, then went to sleep on the backseat of his car. He slept peacefully enough. No dreams. He was woken by Rey, and that was where the trouble started.

“Shinsuke’s gone walkabout.”

Finn sat up immediately. “Did he leave a note? Maybe he’s just, I dunno. Droppin’ another log, pollutin’ nature worse’n we already did.”

Rey shook his head. “He'd have woken one of us up. Guy's loco, but he wouldn't ditch us on his watch. So I figured something wasn't right, and I found something weird. Follow me.”

Stretching and yawning, Finn emerged from the car. He followed Rey a short distance from their little camp, maybe 20 feet or so, to what Finn could only term a cairn. A pile of rocks, clearly man-made.

A sword was lain across it, like an offering to some ancient god. Shinsuke’s sword. And Finn’s heart dropped. Even if he’d gone for a shit, Shinsuke wouldn’t have let that blade out of his sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something glinting a little away. A closer inspection, and he saw it was one of Shinsuke’s knives.

“Get the guns,” he told Rey firmly. “I’ll scout ahead.”

Rey obeyed without a word. Undoubtedly he understood the urgency of the situation. Finn trusted him to have his back.

He could see another knife gleaming up ahead. When he got there, it didn’t take long for him to spot another. A trail of breadcrumbs. Either Shinsuke - or someone else, and that was the hideous thought - was playing silly buggers, or this was something even worse. What could be worse? Finn didn’t want to think about it. He waited for Rey to catch up. He didn’t have to wait long.

Now fully armed, they continued on their way through the wasteland. Neither of them called out. It felt important they stay quiet. 

They reached a fence. One of Shinsuke’s knives was caught on its barbed wire. That wasn’t what drew their attention.

On the gatepost was a sheep’s head, preserved in a ghastly scream. A fly buzzed warily around it, as if afraid to get too close.

There was a knife embedded in its skull.

“Fuck me sideways,” Finn breathed. 

The coordinates, on the device in Rey’s hand, were still urging them forwards. And Shinsuke - where was he? Was he in trouble? Finn had to find out.

They had no other choice.

Opening the gate, they crossed over into the compound.

Chapter Text

There was a house on the horizon. Finn spotted it looming ahead of them, a grand old kind of manor, shrunk down so it wasn’t much bigger than a regular house, a palace in miniature. There was a man in a rocking chair on the porch, a shotgun in his lap. He was wearing a knitted sweater, despite the heat. Finn exchanged a look with Rey, and both of them pointed their guns at the man, who smiled beatifically.

“Well hey there, friends,” he said, as though he wasn’t in the crosshairs of two gunmen. “What can I do for you today?”

“You know full fuckin’ well,” said Finn, indicating Shinsuke’s sword. “Where is he?”

“Your little friend?” the man laughed. “He’s not far away, but if you hurt me, you’ll never see him again. At least, not alive. So let’s all put our guns down and play get-along.” His tone was sing-song, almost childlike. There was something utterly deranged in his eyes. Finn didn’t like it one bit.

But the stranger held the cards. Reluctantly, Finn found himself forced to co-operate. So did Rey.

“What do you want? I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

The man near enough doubled over laughing in his chair. “What do I want? Come close and I’ll tell you.” He beckoned with one chubby finger. 

“I don’t like this, brother,” Rey whispered.

“Me an’ you both,” Finn muttered in reply. Somehow this harmless-looking man, with goddamn white-guy dreads for fuck’s sake, had overpowered one of the most dangerous assassins around. He must have some tricks up his sleeve.

Motioning to Rey to keep back, Finn drew in close, so the man could whisper in his ear.

“I want a sacrifice,” the man giggled, as if he’d just told a knock knock joke, except the punchline was death.

Finn recoiled, going for his gun, when he felt a prick on his hand. He stared at the blood, and then at the barb in the man’s hand.

“You’ve been poisoned. Within an hour, you’ll lose sensation through your body and then, eventually, die! I did the same to your friend, that’s why he had to listen to me. Now, I have an antidote, but you need to follow my instructions and play my little game to determine which of you will make it out of here alive.”

“You bastard-” Finn hissed.

“Hey now,” said the man cheerfully. “Ain’t no call to be using language like that. We’re all friends here.”

“No you sick fuck, we ain’t,” Finn replied. “Get out of here, Rey. I can deal with this maniac.”

“No,” said Rey. “I know who he is. I couldn’t face myself in the eyes of the Lord if I didn’t help you against this demon.”

“Demon?” the man laughed. “Come now. I prefer fiend .”

“Hello, Bray,” Rey said, and Finn felt something creep down his spine, a shiver, as memories of a file on an escaped Louisiana cult leader, who’d led a prison break from a psychiatric facility - as those memories resurfaced. That was a job Finn had refused to deal with. He’d read the file and just walked away. What could he say, the details were pretty fucking grim, involving human sacrifice, missing children, ritual mutilation of animals...and it just went on. The man had been captured, while there was still law for him to face. But things had decayed further, and he’d managed to get free. There was nobody to track him down, so what was left of the FBI turned to mercenaries. 

And Finn had refused. That was coming back to bite him now, with the man opposite him, cleaned up, slimmed down, and dressed like a social worker. He gave a thumbs up.

“Ding-ding, you got it!” Bray tittered. “I’m Bray Wyatt. That’s a double t. In case you were wondering. I know who you are too. A little birdie told me to make preparations for the arrival of Finn, Shin and Rey. My new best friends.”

“Who told you we were coming?”

“Ssh,” Bray pressed a finger to Finn’s lips. “You’ll be wanting that antidote soon. Play nice, Finn-Finny-Finnster, and you might win your freedom.”

“I ought to fuckin’ shoot you were you stand,” Finn growled. His hand was going numb. He ignored it.

Bray Wyatt laughed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” he said, motioning for them to follow him inside.

He held all the cards.

What other choice did they have? 

Gritting his teeth, Finn entered the house.

-

The house was deeply, profoundly wrong . Everything was caked in a layer of grime as if it had never been cleaned. The wallpaper was peeling, and there were visible cobwebs, complete with the bloated corpses of flies. There were photographs of a family on the walls. Their eyes had all been stabbed out. The air felt stuffy, and there was a distinct odour of rotting flesh.

Every one of Finn’s instincts were screaming at him to run. His arm was tingling faintly. He couldn’t move his fingers. Gritting his teeth, clutching Shinsuke’s sword, he followed the madman into a dining room. There was a long wooden table; seated around were an array of human skeletons in various degrees of decomposition. This had been a family’s home, and they’d survived the breakdown of society, hunkered down. Then Bray Wyatt had come calling. He’d charmed his way inside before gradually, perhaps over weeks, killing everyone, or having them kill one another for his own, fiendish entertain. It was an isolated home, nowhere to run to, and nobody to notice the family were gone. Nobody to notice the murderous cuckoo that had taken over the nest. 

Bray Wyatt stood at the head of the table, setting the shotgun on the table. He spread his hands. “Everyone, say hello to our houseguests. Houseguests, meet everyone. Grandpa, Gram-gram, Mom and Pops, and little Millie-May and Benjamin, and Cousin Bertie. At least, that’s what I call them. Say hi!”

“They’re dead.” Fin inhaled, trying to keep himself level and prevent the poison circulating faster. “You killed them, you fuckin’ psychopath.”

Bray gasped. “Not in front of the children!” He indicated the younger bodies, and Finn’s stomach churned. “It was unfortunate. I thought they could be my new family, but I caught one of them trying to call for help. Fortunately, someone had cut the phone lines beforehand. And then, really, he no other choice.”

“They were children,” Rey said, fists clenched. “Dios Mío, do you have no remorse?”

“Of course,” Bray replied. “They didn’t suffer. I made it quick. But gentlemen, time is short. The poison.” He dipped into an exaggerated British accent briefly, before going back to normal, “For our first game, we’re going to play hide and seek. Your little friend Shinsuke is somewhere in this house. You have to find him within ten minutes, and then I’ll give him the antidote for his poisoning, before he joins them at the dinner table. If you fail, you get the antidote for yourself as a consolation prize. Time starts now.”

“Ten minutes? That’s hardly fair.” Finn was trying to press for clues without making it obvious that that was what he was doing.

“Ten minutes for you is urgent, and for him? Well, I can’t say what state you’ll find him in,” Bray laughed. “Without that antidote, one of you will be dead. But don’t worry, I won’t actually start counting down until you leave the room. I’m generous like that.”

“You’re all heart,” Finn muttered. “C’mon, Rey.”

“Happy hunting!” Bray called after them as they left.

“Whatever happens,” Rey said once they were out of earshot in the corridor, “No splitting up. Man, I saw enough horror movies in my time. We stick together.”

“Gotcha.” Finn’s grip tightened on Shinsuke’s sword. The numb, tingling pain in his arm had crept up to his shoulder.

The house was deceptive - bigger, almost, on the inside than without, or at least it felt that way. It also somehow managed to feel claustrophobic at the same time, the corridors too narrow, as if making space for another room. Finn and Rey followed it, checking every cupboard, nook and cranny for so much as a sign of Shinsuke. Four minutes had passed.

They found the stairs at the end of a narrow corridor, a spiral staircase with a cast iron handrail. Finn had to cling to the rail to support his weight, wasting a precious minute on the stairs alone.

At the top there were two doors. It would have been an ideal place to split up, except they couldn’t. Two lives hung in the balance.

“How do you feel?” Rey asked, helping Finn off the stairs and through the door on the left.

“Like shit,” Finn replied. “It’ll be fine. We find Shinsuke, then we get the antidote and split it.”

“Nobody would blame you if you called it quits, for your own sake,” Rey said quietly. “I’m sure Shinsuke would understand.”

Shinsuke, who didn’t think his own life had value. Shinsuke, who wouldn’t have given up on Finn if their positions were reversed. Finn owed him the same courtesy. 

“Yeah, well, he can get fucked,” Finn replied, teeth chattering. He had chills all over his body. “I ain’t callin’ it quits just yet.”

“Shinsuke’s lucky to have such a loyal friend.”

“I suppose he is,” Finn muttered. “Wish my bleedin’ life wasn’t on the line for him though.”

“I wonder about that,” Rey murmured, but didn’t elaborate. Finn was in no mood to question him about it. Either way, they were both distracted by something rather more immediate - namely, they turned the corner to find a trail of blood.

Finn pushed his way past Rey, a sudden surge of strength possessing him. What he saw took his breath away.

There was an open panel on the wall - a secret cubbyhole, which would have been invisible otherwise, and inside it was a manacle. In the manacle was a human hand. It was undeniably Shinsuke’s - those long, elegant, slightly crooked fingers were unmistakable. 

He’d cut off his own hand.

“Fuck,” Finn breathed. “Follow the blood. We’ll find him.”

Rey nodded wordlessly and they followed the trail into a bedroom, at the centre of which was a four-poster bed. The trail stopped there. Finn peered under the bed. Nothing.

Footsteps behind them. They turned, both on the offensive, to see Bray and his shotgun. Who looked, if anything, delighted.

“Well, time’s up. And you didn’t find him.”

“He’s in this fucking room, you psychopath,” Finn hissed.

“Where?”

“On top of the bed,” said Rey. Bray climbed onto a chair, peering onto the canopy. “Nope. you guessed wrong. Now he dies, and you get the antidote instead.”

He passed a bottle to Finn, who uncorked it and took a sniff. It smelt almost like marzipan that had gone funny. Before he could drink it, Rey slapped the bottle out of his hand. It shattered onto the floor.

“Cyanide,” he said. “You were never poisoned, Finn. I’m willing to bet Shinsuke wasn’t either. You were experiencing a reverse placebo. This maniac hoped to trick one of you into drinking poison.”

Finn rounded on Bray, drawing Shinsuke’s sword. The former cult leader aimed the shotgun square at Finn’s chest. “Whoops. Busted.”

“You motherfucker-”

And while that was happening, while Bray was focused solely on Finn, from among the mass of pillows and blankets, out leaped Shinsuke - worse for wear, missing his left hand, a sash from the bed curtains stemming the flow of blood - and stabbed Bray in the fucking throat.

A gunshot, wild of its mark.

Finn drove the blade forward and gutted the man like a fish.

“Are you okay?” He let the body fall, and grabbed Shinsuke desperately. 

Shinsuke laughed grimly. “Look, Finn. No hand!” For all his joking, he seemed genuinely shaken up. Finn patted him on the back, reassuringly. 

“We need to cauterize the wound,” Rey interrupted. “We can’t let infection set in. We should search the house for supplies. And we should bury those poor folks that were in the kitchen.”

“One thing at a time,” said Finn, passing Shinsuke his sword. “Here. I kept it safe for you.”

Blood loss or shock must have got the better of him, force of nature that he was, because Shinsuke Nakamura straight up collapsed, out cold, clinging to his sword with the only hand he had left.

Rey took over on field medicine. He treated the wound as best as he could. There was a first aid kit they found downstairs that he used. They tucked Shinsuke up in the bed, where he’d hidden, to rest and recuperate.

Who had told Bray they were coming, Finn wondered, and what the fuck was going on?

He spent the rest of the day digging graves for the family.

They burnt Bray’s body.

Chapter Text

He woke up in a bed. His hand was numb. 

Because you cut it off, you idiot, said the voice of an old...friend, enemy, whatever he had been, in his head. You went crazy, remember. I remember. Now you’ve gone and done it. This, my friend, is why we had you locked up.

“We aren’t friends,” he mumbled. “Tanahashi, you and I haven’t been friends for a long time.”

No, but this is your imagination. You wish we’d stayed friends, don’t you?

Imaginary Tanahashi was as irritating as the real thing. 

“If wishes were fishes, I’d open a sushi bar.” Shinsuke spat on the floor. “Fuck off, Tanahashi. Leave me alone.”

The voice did as it was told, because it was imaginary. The real thing would never have obliged. Small mercies.

You’re still too soft , another voice told him. When Bray Wyatt threatened your friends, you buckled. You should have killed him then, and you’d still have both your hands.

“I don’t need your advice either, old man,” Shinsuke replied, stumbling out of bed with a groan. “You have no right to talk to me.”

I have ever right. I made you. You were so promising, and now look at you.

“I owe you nothing. I made myself. I make my own decisions, and I’m better off without you.”

“Who ya talkin’ to?”

Shit. Finn.

“Ahahahaha, no-one,” he laughed. “Voices in my head, Finn. They say oooo, we’re spooky voices in your head.”

Finn entered the room. He looked worried. “You okay? That shit with your hand-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shinsuke lied. “We steal fake one, then cool robot hand. Like Luke Skywalker, man.”

Finn looked dubious, but didn’t pry. Fortunately, he wasn’t the type to ask uncomfortable questions. But he did speak Japanese, to some degree, so Shinsuke knew he had to be careful in future. How could anyone trust a person who didn’t know what was real all of the time? Right now, he was aware he was imagining conversations that had never and would never happen, but that wasn’t always the case. Hence Guam.

“Listen, we can call this shite off, aye?” Finn was saying. “But we can’t stay in this house longer than necessary. Now you’re awake, an’ stable, we need to be movin’ out.”

“We keep going. Finn, we gotta. This-” he held up the stump of his hand. “Is sacrifice. Worth it.”

“What next?” Finn spat, oddly vehement. He was like that, hot-headed, emotional. Shinsuke figured it was like, an Irish thing. “Your life? It’s not worth dying for this stupid bloody job.”

“Rey thinks it is,” he said, and saw Finn stagger back, like he’d been slapped across the face. “My life. I know you made deal with him. He asked me same. I told him go choke. But you made deal, I know. Crazy, not dumb, remember?” He cracked a fake smile. Finn looked broken.

“That was talk, Shin. Blarney. We need him on our side. Ya know I’d never choose him over you, ya gotta-”

“Don’t care either way,” Shinsuke sniffed dismissively. “Stop talk about it, yeah? Don’t wanna argue with my Finn-finn.” He flashed a mischievous grin, and Finn - thank fuck, thank fuck - rolled his eyes.

“Alright, pal. Whatever ya say. Rey’s scoutin’, he’ll be back soon.”

“Hmm.” 

“I don’t like it either, but it can’t have been him that sold us out to Bray. This farm’s so isolated and - well. We found traces. Someone else was here, in a big jeep. I know folks that drive that kinda car. So do you.”

“I know. They watchin’, Finn. He gonna try kill us, steal our glory. We kill him first?”

Finn sighed. He looked tired, but resigned. He didn’t look like a demon, just a man. “Sure. we take out Seth first, I reckon we’ll stand a chance against Ambrose and Reigns.”

That made sense.

I like this Finn , said imaginary Tanahashi. He’s a good influence on you .

And for once, Shinsuke didn’t argue.

-

When Rey got back, they piled into the car, after re-dressing Shinsuke’s hand and dosing him with more painkillers, that he spat out when nobody was looking. Needed to stay sharp. Couldn’t give in. They took nothing else from the homestead. It would have been cursed. Then they set off. Neither spoke for a while. It was boring . Shinsuke contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle, just to spice things up, but decided against it. He was unhinged, not mad; he talked to voices in his head, but he was aware he was making them up.

“You didn’t see anything?” Finn asked.

Rey shrugged. “Ruins of a town. Looks like we missed whoever passed through. My money, they’re the ones that told Bray about us. Not enough manpower to be the Flairs. You guys piss anyone else off?”

“Mercenaries,” replied Finn. “Friends when it suits, but more’n happy to knife you in the back.”

“Do they know what we’re looking for?”

Finn’s silence said it all. At last, he spoke, bitterly. “Fine, I told them. I fucked up. I’ll fix it, yeah?”

“You can’t have known,” replied Rey

“I shoulda. I thought the Trace was bullshit, that’s why. If I hadn’t run my fat gob, Shinsuke, you’d still have a hand.”

“Did you cut it off?” Finn didn’t answer. “Then we good, Finn. No worries.”

“It can’t be that simple. Life isn’t that simple.”

“Is when your head hurts,” said Shinsuke. “No more talk about it. Pretend my hand just fell off, walked away. Went to creepy family. Have hand running round house.”

“Shinsuke, I’m not gonna pretend your hand went off to join the feckin’ Addams Family! This shit happened, it’s serious. We need to deal with it.”

“Nah,” replied Shinsuke, blithely. “I don’t wanna.”

Again it went quiet. Quiet and boring, and his head hurt and his hand felt like it was on fire, but he didn’t want fussing over, no sir. Would rather die than be treated with any gentleness.

It’s been a motherfucker of a week, huh?

Whose voice was that? Shinsuke racked his brains, before realising the thought was his own. Almost a stranger. Technically, he knew all the thoughts were his , but this was his voice, clear as day. If he’d been superstitious, he’d have said it was his ghost. The ghost of someone he’d been, long ago.

Metaphysics, metaphysics.

He was in no mood for philosophy, having recently cut his hand off, so he decided to change the topic. 

“If we meet government, we should wear false moustaches and claim reward for killing Bray Wyatt.” Perfect. Perfectly inane and ridiculous. Nobody, least of all himself, would guess mere seconds ago he’d been thinking about the metaphysical concept of selfhood. Nobody would guess he had ideas about the concept of self-hood, or metaphysics [admittedly, not in English]. People heard the accent and assumed unintelligence, and he never exactly tried to dissuade them of this. Better to be underestimated.

Finn had never treated him as less. Finn had always seen an equal.

“Rey could wear moustache over his mask,” he continued, knowing he was rambling but unable to stop. “Might be funny. Might be hilarious .”

“I’m sure the feds would see the funny side,” scoffed Finn.

“He’s got a point,” interrupted Rey. That surprised Shinsuke, who thought he had no such thing. “We could get immunity. Sooner or later, the Flairs will find out what happened.”

“We ain’t goin’ to the feds,” Finn replied, disgusted. “The Flairs gotta have connections with what’s left of the government, we’d be no safer. An’ anyway, I did enough bad shit killin’ one wackjob don’t even cover it.”

“Fair enough,” said Rey. “But if we find the Trace Italian, that could get us protection for life. It’s an option we need to consider.”

The Feds would have records about Guam. They’d use that to put him back in hospital. 

“ We don’t go to them. Or I’ll fucking kill you, Mr King Mystery ,” he hissed, vehemently, in his poor, but serviceable Spanish. Then he grinned. Rey didn’t reply, but Shinsuke knew he’d heard.

You’re poisoning this, Nakamura. Like you poison everything .

“Shut up, Tanahashi,” he mumbled, and then conked out in the back seat, clutching his sword to his chest, feeling himself drifting away into nothingness. Dimly, he felt the car pull to a stop, heard Finn’s frantic concern, but none of that mattered. He just drifted.

Everything went dark.

-

When he woke up, he was alone under a vast sky. It was night, and there were no stars - but the aurora danced overhead. He looked down and he had two hands.

“This isn’t real,” he said to himself. 

“Just because it’s in your head doesn’t mean it’s not real,” came a voice. He turned and saw himself. 

This would have thrown anyone else, but Shinsuke was used to this kind of dream.

“You have anything useful to say, or you just here to fuck with me?”

“Rey isn’t the enemy,” his other self said. “He isn’t the poison. You are. You’re the one Finn should be worried about.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Shinsuke replied, and promptly woke himself up at will.

But he could feel those words rattling around in his mind, as he came to. There was a grain of truth, he knew it. He was a loose cannon.

And there was a chance he might explode, taking them all down with the shrapnel of his own glorious self-destruction.

Chapter Text

Now he woke up for real, the desert sun beating down, and he sat up so quick the blood all rushed to his head - because the last thing he needed was more brain activity. Less, now that would be nice. He’d been trying to make his brain shut the fuck up for years, to no avail.

Finn was standing over him, a concerned look on his sunburnt Irish face. “Jesus, Shinsuke. Ya gave me a heart attack.”

They’d pulled over, evidently laying Shinsuke down on top of a very nicely woven Mexican blanket Rey had brought along. Really, the texture was incredible. Was it homemade? Were they keeping alpacas on that homestead? Would it be weird to ask?

Yes, my friend, it would be . Tanahashi again. You black out, scare everyone shitless, and then wake up only to immediately ask about llamas.

“Alpacas,” he corrected, and saw Finn frown. “I mean, sorry to worry you. Hey, Rey, this blanket? Alpaca wool? Feels niiiiice.”

Rey shrugged. “Dunno. Got it in a thrift store back when there were other kinds of store. Could be.”

That answers that. Man doesn’t know.

Doesn’t mean it isn’t , he thought back, bitterly.

“Listen, Shin, we’ve been talkin’-” Finn began.

“No.”

“I haven’t even said what.”

“I know. Read your mind, brrr~ brrr~” Nobody laughed. Annoying. “You want to take me back to Rey’s have Sasha patch up, give all kinds of pills. Won’t do it, Finn. We gotta go forward. Gotta.”

“Bloody Trace Wanker,” Finn muttered. “Fine, but if ya do one more faintin’ spell like that, ya don’t get a say in it. Ya lose your decision privileges.”

The last person who’d told him that, in as many words, had had him sent to Guam.

“This can’t go on,” Okada, Okada had said. “If you keep disregarding your own health, I’ll have to make a decision you won’t like.”

“Just try it,” he’d hissed. “I’ll kill you.”

“No,” Okada had said calmly. “I don’t think you will.”

And he’d been right. After everything, Shinsuke hadn’t been able to harm Kazuchika Okada, hadn’t been able to resist capture. Now Finn was saying pretty much the same thing. Had he learnt his lesson? If it came to it -- could he kill Finn?

He was outnumbered, and he was wounded, he told himself. No point in trying anything crazy. It wouldn’t end well.

“No promises,” Shinsuke gave a stupid little laugh, that he knew sounded forced.

“Not bloody funny,” Finn snapped.

“Gotta laugh,” Shinsuke yawned, getting to his feet and stretching. “More optimism here, please. Like Rey. I never see Rey frowny face. Never see him smile either, but still counts.”

Finn scowled and stormed off.

See? You’re the poison .

Shinsuke rolled his eyes. Shut up, me. Stop thinking. He gave another exaggerated yawn. When he was done, he noticed Rey looking at him.

“You aren’t alright, are you?” 

“Not your business.”

“I’ve seen illness before. Trauma. It’s okay. I won’t tell Finn. But if you need to talk, I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there.”

“I doubt that,” Shinsuke laughed hollowly. “I’ll be fine. If you don’t stop moving, demons can’t get you. Besides, I talk about it all the time. I say ‘hey, I’m crazy, I think about killing people all the time, and I have spooky voices talking to me oooooo~” He wiggled his fingers, then shrugged loosely. “Not my fault people think I make joke.”

“No,” Rey replied. “But you do your best to persuade them you are, don’t you? All the drama, the fake tics - you want people to think you’re just acting like this for fun.”

“I am,” Shinsuke insisted. “Gotta have fun. Get bored otherwise. Why you asking? Want me to let guard down, trust you?”

“Doesn’t have to be me you talk to. You could open up to Finn. He cares.”

Shinsuke sucked in a breath and shook his head. “Caring is problem. People do things for you when they care. Think it’s for the best. Never is. I talk to you instead. You don’t care. Better.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No. But might help.”

So he told Rey everything.

-

By the end of it, Rey whistled. “You, brother, are particularly fucked up, but you’re not insane. You know these voices aren’t real, so you aren’t actively psychotic right now, or schizophrenic. And even if you were, that wouldn’t change the fact you’re a useful asset, a talent. Your life has value - especially to Finn.”

“He took deal with you,” Shinsuke muttered.

“That wasn’t personal. Like I said, I’m a family man. I want to get home safe.”

“I don’t always. Know what’s real.”

“I figured. So long as it doesn’t endanger us and the job, I’ll keep it secret.”

“And if it does?”

“Well,” Rey chuckled. “I figure if you go off the rails, I’ll be your first target, so confidentiality will be the least of my concerns.”

At that, Shinsuke couldn’t help bursting into genuine laughter. “You are twisted bastard, Rey Mysterious.”

“Mysterio.”

“Mysterious.”

“Maybe I am,” Rey replied, noncommittally. “Look, Finn’s coming back. I’ll make a fire. You ever need to talk to someone that doesn’t care, I’m here.”

What the hell was his game?

Shinsuke decided he didn’t give a shit. It didn’t matter ultimately. Leave the major shit to Finn. He’d just try hold himself together, while bits of him crumbled off into dust. Like his hand. Ha fucking ha. 

Finn wasn’t looking at him, just checking on the car with an air of detachment. He refuelled from one of their gas tanks, which they were going through at a measured, scheduled pace. They would be fine for a little while yet.

“Ya got somethin’ to say, Nakamura, say it.”

“If you want out this job, Finn-”

Finn rounded on him. “No, ya big dumb fucker, I don’t want out. I don’t want you endin’ up dead, ‘cause that’s how things’ll go if ya keep this up. Or worse than dead, jus’ fucked up beyond belief. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but we’re in this together.”

“We know each other better than you think, Mr Demon.” He knew as he said it, that he shouldn’t , but he did anyway, and the look on Finn’s face - hurt, betrayed, offended - reminded Shinsuke of Okada. “I saw. One time, hah, back when I was a sniper- can you imagine ? You in all your makeup, in the crosshairs. Didn’t pull the trigger. You kill a family, Finn.”

“That was the last job I did for-” he cut off. “For RISE. Fuck, you were the one who hired me for it, an’ watched on the end of a scope. What the fuck ?”

“You didn’t found Bullet Club because you discover morals. It was the pay, Finn. I remember. Might be crazy now, but those days clear. Not for you. Not a surprise. You were doing craaaazy drugs, huh?”

“Why are you bringing this up now? If you’re trying to push me away, make me fuck off, I’m not that easy to get rid of. I’m stubborn like that.”

“No reason. Not important.” If anything, this proved they were linked, inescapable, entangled together by the red thread of fate. “We both change since then. You sober up, get better.”

“So did you. You ain’t the type of person to put a hit out on a family, on kids. Least, I don’t think ya are.”

“Anymore.”

“So? People change, Shin. I sure as hell did. Time was I’d have killed a guy talked like you just did. But you wouldn’t care, an’ that’s just...sad, I guess. Making mistakes doesn’t mean ya have to punish yourself or go on some suicidal quest to atone. That’s some Catholic bullshit - trust me, I’m Irish.”

Shinsuke truly couldn’t fathom the depth of Finn’s strange respect for him. Why did he care? How could he care? What the fuck was going on in his inscrutable, surprisingly normal brain? How did he hold together and keep going so easily? He was a mystery. Of all the people to hitch a ride from, it was this man, who was sane to the point of insanity. Maybe that was why the Irish drank so much, to escape from their own overwhelming sanity.

That thought made Shinsuke laugh. Finn looked at him, confused. “Jesus, it wasn’t that funny.”

“Laughing at own private joke, actually. Very funny. Have to tell you some day. But I can’t remember how it go in English, so not today.” He clicked his tongue loudly. “Oh well. Rey make a fire, we sit, eat dinner. Then, council of war.”

“ You want to strategise? Wonders will never cease.”

“Not strategising lost my hand.” Shinsuke gave a wolfish smile. “We have you, me, and Rey. Three. They have Ambrose, Rollins, Reigns. Three. Each take one, boom goes the dynamite. We can do this. I think we all face worse odds before now.”

“I think those were almost full sentences. Jesus. You really are taking things seriously.”

“No speak English, Finn,” Shinsuke teased, and was immensely, extraordinarily gratified to hear Finn laugh .

-

So they gathered around the campfire Rey had set up, and got to planning.

“The Shield?” Rey cursed in Spanish. “They knew you were coming to me, sure, but they couldn’t know we’d head north to Bray’s. This car - you check it for trackers, bugs?”

“No. didn’t think anyone would be so bloody stupid to follow us.”

“It’s the Trace Italian. It makes everyone stupid.”

“Even me, is that what you’re saying?” Finn scowled. “We assume they put somethin’ in the car. Disable it, they know we’re onto them.”

“Ditching the car’s the best move.”

“Easy for you to say! It’s not your bloody car!”

“If we can find another vehicle,” Shinsuke interjected.

“If wishes were fishes, Shin. Cars don’t come easy these days. Not out here.”

“No, he’s right,” said Rey. “There is a place, called the Crossroads. Not far out of our way. It’s a junkyard of abandoned vehicles. We can find something out there.”

“Say we can. What then?”

“What better place to lay a trap?” Shinsuke felt both of them staring at him. “What? I read the Art of War, you know? Sun Tzu said blah blah blah, set trap, it’ll be fun. Pinky promise. Exact words right there.”

“Okay, go on.”

Both of them were still boring holes through him with their stare-y scary eyes. He balled his fists, forcing himself to keep thinking straight - stopping his train of thought veering off, and turning into a trolley problem.

“Split them up. Each take one down. Finn, you call dibs on Rollins. I take Reigns.”

“Can you fight one-handed? Against Roman Reigns?”

“One-hand, underhand. No problem. Rey, you deal with Ambrose. Easy-peasy.”

“If we can negotiate,” said Rey. “I’d rather that. This is risky.”

“If you want to fucking negotiate , get on a different ride. This is my roadtrip, my job, my quest,” Shinsuke hissed. He caught Finn staring at him, still, and laughed. “You wanted me to pull my weight, plan. Hey presto. Monkey’s paw, Finn. Be careful what you wish for.”

And, sat around the fire, the three planned the exact details of their trap, until they were ready to put it in motion. 

For the first night in a while, the voices stayed quiet, and Shinsuke slept without dreaming near enough all night. 

It felt like the calm before the storm.

He was right.

Chapter Text

It was a little before dawn when they finally arrived at the Crossroads. They’d driven through the night, desperate to get there soon as, to get this whole business over and done with. 

“I can drive!” Shinsuke offered, though truthfully he preferred to recline cat-like across the back seats and space out, emptying his overactive mind completely to leave only white noise. Plus it looked cool. He liked to feel like a king, being chauffeured everywhere. But America was huuuuge, and sometimes any king wanted commoner entertainment.

“No disrespect, pal, but you only got one hand,” said Finn. “That does tend to impair driving. Oh, an’ also last time ya tried to run me over an’ we lost a wing mirror.”

“ You shot that,” Shinsuke objected. “I was trying to heroic rescue, and you un-grate-ful. Bad as me, Finn, for make shit up.” Historical revisionism was the phrase he wanted, but he couldn’t bring it to mind in English so didn’t even try. They all knew what he meant anyway.

The truth was, he’d had the best of intentions trying to rescue Finn back then. The melodrama of it had swept him up, yes, hence the lack of explanation and the crazed driving, but he really had been trying to pull his weight. He disliked feeling like someone Finn had to carry. To look out for. Wasn’t that what this all was with his mental health too? Hide it all away. Don’t become a burden. Perfect.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” he’d said to Okada, laughing humorlessly. 

Okada had frowned, looking for all the world like a dumb, confused puppy. “You could never. You could never , do you hear me? We’re in this together, always.”

You could never. Until he had.

He’d learnt from last time. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.

You already are , Okada piped up. Get help, please .

He laughed, disguising it as a random chuckle, which to be fair he was known to have. Nobody raised an eyebrow.

I’m too busy. Don’t you get it? I need to finish this. While I still can.

You think you’re getting worse again?

I know I am, Kazu. Let me finish this job. Then all of you can do whatever you want with my brain. Tear it to pieces, eat me alive. Whatever. Just let me finish up here, okay?

Quiet.

Alright. But I don’t like it .

No , Shinsuke mused. You wouldn’t if you were here either. I wish you were .

No reply. His imagination failed him. What he wouldn’t give to have them both, actually - Okada and Tanahashi, even. They’d make short work of this whole shebang. He liked that word, shebang. Almost as good as shindig. Fun, fun Americanisms. Since he wasn’t hiding his English proficiency, he could use them later. Show off a bit. 

His imagination hadn’t failed where his missing hand was concerned. He’d had this idea, just after they’d set up base at the Crossroads - cool as shit, it would be - to duct tape a knife to his stump. Easier said than done single-handed, but he managed it. Then he went to show Finn. 

“Hi~” he sang. “Look, cool robot hand.”

Finn burst out laughing, honest-to-god guffawing, and Shinsuke glowed with pride. “Genius. Could almost be Becky Lynch’s work.”

“Thought so too.”

“When this is over, I’ll see if we can’t smooth shit over with her. Get her to make you one, hey?” Shinsuke nodded, but didn’t think he needed a verbal response. Finn evidently thought otherwise, his brow furrowing in concern. “You okay? You’re still recovering from Bray’s, this job’s not exactly the simplest. It’s pretty bloody dangerous, Shin.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think your sense of danger’s completely feckin’ warped, mate,” Finn said frankly. “No disrespect.”

Anyone else - except maybe Okada - Shinsuke would have flipped on them: knife, meet human flesh, I know you’ll be best of friends . Instead, he smiled, a little crooked and awkward. “I know. Don’t worry too much. Not ready to die yet.”

“That a promise?”

  “No promises in this life. You know that.” Finn couldn’t argue, but he didn’t look happy , exactly. He looked like he had started making coffee only to find the milk had gone off, but was too bone-tired to throw it out and drank his sour coffee because he had no other choice. “What about you?”

Finn stared. “What about me?”

“You okay? I know you want to, like, get away from bad shit. This is bad shit we’re in.”

“Wasn’t how I planned my summer, I’ll be honest,” Finn remarked wryly. “Was thinkin’ margaritas in the sun, workin’ on my tan, that kinda thing.”

“Ha! You crack joke like mine. Make a comedian out of you yet, Finn.”

They both went quiet after that. When you knew the joking and teasing was a front, for real tension and fear, that took the fun out of it, but it was inescapable no matter how old it got. Adrenaline made you say things in the vain hope maybe you’d find the wisecrack that’d make you feel better. You never did. When you were able to let the silence settle between you, without feeling like shit or - well, without your mind wandering, let’s say - you knew you’d found a good partner.

“ If the Crossroads summons a demon ,” he murmured, in Japanese - Rey was coming over, and though he didn’t seem to know the language maybe he had an audio translate, or like, a team of sugar gliders that lived in his pockets to translate everything. Maybe he was a team of sugar gliders in human skin and that was why he was so short. Worth asking?

What was he saying again? Oh - “ I have your back. We’ll go to hell together. ”

Finn didn’t reply, barely even reacted. He looked, if anything, like he was about to cry. Sad little white boy. Poor dear. No, none of that. Finn was his friend, he mattered. “Not sure I deserve your friendship either, y’know?” the Irishman said, at long last. He waved to Rey. “Ya done what ya gotta, ya mean bastard?”

“I did what I could,” Rey said, suspiciously. Either he was evil, or just really dramatic. Was that a Mexican thing? Would it be weird to ask?

Yes. Focus .

His own thoughts. Good.

“So. Now we wait.”

“Now we wait.”

Shinsuke clicked his tongue. He made a few other weird, experimental noises. No good. It had been thirty seconds, and that was thirty seconds too long.

“I’m bored,” he declared, proudly.

“We know, Shin.”

“No, you don’t. I’m really fucking bored. Might die of it.”

“You won’t die, idjit.” Quiet. “You’re going to remind us every five seconds aren’t you?”

“Or less!”

“Dios mio, he’s worse than my children were,” Rey said, crossing himself. Finn, Irish, followed suit. 

“If you start praying, I kill you both.”

“Then you’ll be even more bored, pal. All on your lonesome. No,” Finn grinned. “You gotta suck it up.”

“Bored, Finn.”

“We know .”

-

It took longer than five seconds, or even five minutes for the Shield to arrive. It took at least ten million years, or eleven and a half hours, depending on who you asked. Time was subjective. From his perch, Shinsuke saw them first, the approach. He gave the signal, a very secret code called yelling “Not bored now!” at the top of his lungs while their sneaky little pursuers where still out of earshot. They were banking on the Shield not realising they were being played.

With his hand missing, Shinsuke couldn’t exactly snipe, but this was the perch he would have chosen if he’d still been able to. He had a different plan, and it was thoroughly crazy, and he was proud of it.

He could watch everything from up here. See it all unfold. 

Where was he? On top of a crane, of course. He’d hunkered down in the control box to eat prawn crackers. Now he wanted a breath-mint, but couldn’t risk descending and it was his own stupid fault. Instead, he watched the Shield pull up just outside the junkyard and exit the vehicle, cautiously. It was just the three of them, no backup, which suggested this was their own scheme. Pricks being pricks. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he watched them fan out, splitting up to search the area. They were armed, each carrying an antiquated revolver, like gunslingers. The whole thing was like something out of a Western, that was for sure, they just lacked the hats. How dare they? Waltz in with fancy guns, playing cowboys, but not committing to it? Bastards. He noted each also carried a blade - hard to see what, but Reigns clearly had a machete. Machete versus katana wasn’t a fight he wanted any part of, especially not one handed. Cool as shit though. Yeah, it’d look sick, but it was dumb, and he was being sensible right now. No, he had his plan, and was about 75% confident in his ability to execute it. He liked those odds - and if he fucked up, well. Bye-bye Shinsuke Nakamura, hello Splatsuke Marinara. 

He’d have to tell that one to Finn later. When the tension passed and he could joke again and admit he was entirely bullshitting this job from start to finish.

No time now, of course. Serious Shinsuke only.

It was time for the plan.

-

“They’ll have guns,” Finn said. “If they’re heavily armed, someone’s backing them. If they’re falling back on their revolvers, this is their own idea.”

“There’s a chance we’ll have better weapons, then,” said Rey. “That’s a bargaining chip.”

“Yes, and no. The Shield are batfuck insane. They won’t respond to threats like normal folks. And only you and I can use anything bigger than a handgun, an’ Shin can’t reload so easy.”

“If we turn this into gunfight, we dead,” Shinsuke agreed. “Gotta split them off. Then cut them off - change the terrain. Rey, you good with explosions? Distract, draw attention. Then ambush. Above, below, whatever. Don’t let them shoot, disarm.”

“If they have backup?”

“Explode them. Only need the Shield to question.” Shinsuke’s mind was ticking, ticking over, time-bomb, but that was good. It was like riding a bike, he realised grimly; once you’d been a merc leader and tactician, that never left you, no matter how crazy you got. “Only need one alive to question, really.”

Rey grimaced. “My man, you’re missing an option.”

“No negotiations, Rey-rey. Go fuck yourself.”

“Will do. But you’re ignoring it. We take one hostage, the others will back down. That’s how they are. Like brothers, when it comes down to it. Then we can question them.”

“He’s kinda got a point, Shin.” If Finn was agreeing, maybe the idea wasn’t total horseshit, and wasn’t some evil scheme. Or Rey was a master of hypnosis. Worth asking? “Rollins an’ I have been friends on an’ off. If I get him chattin’, he might let somethin’ slip. Lord knows the bastard loves the sound of his own voice.”

“You’re wanting me to deal with Ambrose, right?” Rey asked, cocking his head. He looked like a very weird car ornament. “Can’t say I know him too well. But I got an idea. We move the cars to keep them separated, and then go after our target. Then the explosions draw their attention.”

“And then?”

“Then,” said Rey, a mad little grin on his face, just reminding them all he was a motherfucker in his own right. “I jump Ambrose and knock him out with a tire iron.”

Finn laughed, incredulous. “Really?”

“Did it many times before. Always works for me just fine.” 

“I thought you want negotiate.” Shinsuke raised his eyebrows. 

“I do. After I knock him out with a tire iron. People are always more willing to cooperate after that. Probably the concussion. I got a lot of really good deals after that. You ever wonder how I got myself so much land?”

“You hit a guy with a tire iron?”

“I hit a guy with a tire iron,” Rey confirmed. 

Now that was hashed out, they were both looking at Shinsuke. Who had to knock it out the park with his plan. It had to be fucking ace. 

“Well, I was gonna climb somewhere realllllllly high. We need scout, yeah? Then I whoosh down right on Roman Reigns’ head when he’s underneath. Simple, easy.”

“There’s a crane at the Crossroads. But that’s too high to jump from.”

“Does it have chain?”

“Are you serious? Shin-”

“Deadly,” Shinsuke replied, no sign of a grin on his face. Not even a ghost of one. “Did this once before. Had two hands then, but-” he grimaced. “I can still do it. Trust me.”

“Without killing Reigns?” asked Rey.

“Hey, I’m not the one hit a man with tire iron!” 

“True.”

Finn scowled. “I ain’t struck on it.”

“Man says he can do it, Finn. I’d be inclined to believe him right now.” Rey stretched. “You know, if we get out of here, you can both come live on my farm. I’d never have to do a day’s brainwork again, just ask one of you to go bullshit something every time some idiot tried to take us on.”

“You let us drink your booze an’ smoke your wacky baccy, I think we’ll have a deal.”

That, in short, was the plan.

-

Plans rarely went as planned, was the thing, but this one was going like a dream. Shinsuke watched the Shield split off, fanning out like the consummate professionals they were. He saw Rey move, triggering his little complicated thingamajig that moved a handful of the cars, changing the paths behind and ahead of the Shield, forming a wonderful little dead end for Roman that Shinsuke was sure he’d appreciate later. He counted his heartbeats, slowing them. He felt level. He felt almost sane. 

Somewhere, Finn was underneath a car, ready to shoot Rollins in the foot and burst out in a chaotic, demonic frenzy. Rey was about to set the explosion off. Shinsuke would ride the crane down and maybe slice Roman Reigns in two, or something equally gory, but hopefully not like, kill him. He could be glued back together, worst case, right?

This was all about to happen, beautifully according to plan, when something happened that fucked it all up, screwed the pooch so royally the pooch was going to have lots of little bastard puppies all over the place. Oh, it was fucking bad. 

There were cars on the horizon. A whole fucking convoy of them. There was an explosion, and it wasn’t Rey’s. No, there was someone with an RPG, and she - she , of course, had just used it to blow up the Shield’s car.

Fuck it. 

Shinsuke scrabbled to the chain, hitting its axle with his knife-hand and clinging for dear life with his good hand. He rode down most of the way, springing onto a truck roof first then rolling onto the ground in front of an utterly baffled, gun-wielding Polynesian badass. Who levelled that stupid cowboy gun right at him.

“The Flairs,” Shinsuke said, by way of explanation and Reigns’ face dropped. “Blew up your car. Radio your little friends. Or we alllllll gonna die.”

Reigns looked dubious, didn’t move the gun. Shinsuke rolled his eyes.

“I’ll help you find the Trace, huh? That seal it? Help us get out, I join you.”

He didn’t hesitate after that.

Chapter Text

“How can I trust you?”

A good question, and one Shinsuke often asked of himself too. How can you trust what you’re seeing, thinking or feeling? How can you trust your judgements? That was a bit philosophical, and definitely not what Reigns meant.

“I’m crazy, but you realllllly think I’d gamble this? This shit? My life, maybe, yeah, but the job?” And Finn , he thought, but didn’t say. No point giving the Shield free ammunition. 

Reigns frowned. “You’re not crazy, you’re smart. You’d say anything to get what you want. How do I know you won’t stab us in the back like you did AJ?”

“Radio Rollins then. Call it in, see if I care. Or don’t, we all die. Your choice, big dog.”

“Alright,” Reigns conceded. He radioed. “Seth, Nakamura’s with me. Says the Flairs are attacking and we gotta play getalong if we wanna live.”

No reply. Shit. Finn must have heard the explosion, assumed it was Rey and brought the plan into action. Moments later, though, Dean Ambrose responded instead.

“Copy. Rey Mysterio says the same. Crossed himself, so I guess he means it.”

“Where’s Seth?” No response. Just white noise. Reigns shook the radio, hit it against a truck a few times, and cursed. 

“Flairs jamming signal.”

“I figured that much, smart-ass,” Reigns retorted. “You got a plan aside from running your mouth?”

“Get to Finn and Rollins before they kill each other, obviously,” Shinsuke said. “Unless you wanna, I dunno, be two men down against whole army?”

He turned on his heel, not waiting to see if Reigns followed. Time was against them. The Flairs were here, and armed to the fucking teeth. They needed Rollins and Finn, preferably both in one piece. Though, Shinsuke thought grimly, hands were demonstrably optional. 

As it turned out, Reigns did have the sense to follow (a miracle), and they rounded the corner to find their respective teammates facing one another down. Rollins’ gun was nowhere in sight, but both his blades were drawn. Finn’s gun hung on the side mirror of a nearby wreck, and he had two of Shinsuke’s endless supply of knives, generously loaned because Shinsuke was that fucking nice these days. He was bleeding from a few minor cuts, almost warpaint - a demon, Shinsuke realised, more annoyed than worried. These idiots were having a knife fight like- like total badasses, to be honest. Yeah, who could blame them? That shit was fun. Rollins also had a few wounds, his long hair sticking to his face with sweat and blood in a lovely cocktail some people were probably into. He was an arrogant bastard, what some people would call cocksure. Sure that he had a cock? That Rollins Jr hadn’t abandoned him to go on holiday to the Maldives? While Shinsuke honestly didn’t know or care about that , he was sure the man was a total cock, plain and simple, which ruled out any other debate they might have had -- fuck, he was wandering again, when he needed it least, thinking in nonsense when he needed to get it together.

Deep breath. Okay. Rollins is a dick, haha, what else is new?

One-handed, Shinsuke drew his sword (which was particularly funny to him, after his lovely internal meandering, but he could laugh about that later), and stepped between the two combatants. “Stand down. We gotta problem bigger than you two dick-measuring contest.” (Again???? Mind out of the gutter, Shinsuke! Come on.)

“The Flairs,” Finn realised. “Fuck’s sake-”

Rey and Ambrose hauled themselves over the blockade, and Ambrose jumped down. Meanwhile, Rey crouched atop it - maybe he liked being tall. Probably. 

“The Flairs, huh.” Rollins whistled. “We’ll finish this another time, Bálor.”

“Ya can feckin’ well count on it. Arsehole.” Finn spat blood at the floor. “Anyone got a plan? Show of hands?”

Up on his perch, Rey raised a hand, and Shinsuke almost laughed. Of course he took Finn’s sarcasm at face value. When you didn’t have a face, you had to, hey? Funny English joke. Share that one later. “The cars. Get some working, weigh down the gas, turn them into mobile bombs. Use spare fuel for molotovs.”

“Is all you think about explosives?” Rollins sneered, but he couldn’t disguise how impressed he was.

“It wasn’t, actually. I was leading a very nice life with my family where all I had to think about was crops, keeping us secure, and occasionally, monopoly. That was it. Now I’m back in this world I wanted out of, so explosives it is. And unlike monopoly, you don’t get no get out of jail free. It’s all hard work from here.”

Finn nodded. “Tell me how, an’ I can rig the cars. You need to make more booby traps in here itself, in case we gotta make a last stand or some shite.”

“I can help with that,” Ambrose said, the first words Shinsuke had heard him utter. “Trained as a mechanic. Got kicked off my course for breaking the instructors knees with a tire iron.”

“I can get behind that,” said Rey. “See, it’s not just me. It’s universal language, tire irons.” 

“Ta very much,” Finn replied. He looked pointedly at Reigns.

“I guess I’ll do molotovs then. Throw a cocktail party for the ice princess.” 

“You have a sense of humour?” Shinsuke feigned shock.

“Fuck you, man,” Reigns snorted. “Just because the only times we met before now, we were screwing each other over doesn’t mean I can’t be a regular dude. Not all of us are full-time wackos from Toontown.”

Finn, bless him, looked about to argue that point, but Shinsuke grinned amicably back at Reigns. “When I save your ass, we have barbeque after. You eat your words. Anyone else wanna talk shit, be my guest. Only I miiiight slip with sword, whoopsies, one hand, sorry.” He couldn’t quite muster up the enthusiasm to sell the gag as well as he would have liked, but it wasn’t so far off, and Seth laughed which maybe counted. Hard to perform when you were pissed off and staring down death. Then again, that had never stopped him before. “Rey, Deanie, Fuckface - I mean Roman, silly me - hurry the fuck up, do that shit. Finn, Fuckface 2, come with me.”

“How come I’m only Fuckface 2?” Seth grumbled. “That’s favouritism. After I laughed at your jokes and everything.”

“Only know one insult in English,” Shinsuke lied. “First come first served.”

Whatever else Seth said next, he ignored. It didn’t interest him. Bigger Flairs to fry.

“What’s your game plan?” Finn asked, quietly, when the three of them were alone. 

“We need that RPG. Turn it on them. Maybe we have a chance.”

“Unless they have a spare,” Seth objected. “And how the fuck are we gonna get it off them? There’s no way.”

“Night,” replied Shinsuke. “More cover.”

“You’re saying three guys with like, a few dozen bullets, five hands, and a fuckoff giant sword are gonna take on an army?” Seth cackled. “Sure, why not? What else have we got to lose? If we don’t find the Trace Italian, we’ll all be dead soon.” He gave a wry smile. “You believe that? I’m tryna save the world. Me. Fucking crazy, right?”

“Mental,” Finn agreed. “Anyway, we have more bullets. H gave me them for the job. We got some half-decent rifles too.”

“I got a knife hand. Don’t forget that.”

An explosion. Hard to tell who it was. Didn’t sound too close. They were good for now. Later, the first of the molotovs would sound, Roman and Rey starting their response, that would keep the Flairs back. The first of the cars wouldn’t be ready for another couple of hours, courtesy of Ambrose and Mysterio Autos; Rey could apparently be in five places at once, because he was rigging traps as well and would occasionally pop up to tell them the newest no-go zone and how to get through it. His energy was seemingly endless. 

After the molotov assault began, the Flairs dropped back out of range. Or so they thought - because Rey made, with some scrap and a length of salvaged rubbed, a pretty nifty siege weapon to launch the molotovs even further. The Flairs had to drop back further. They weren’t firing the RPG too much, which suggested that they didn’t want to kill anyone before it was time. That delay could, maybe, save them. Maybe. It was still slim odds. 

Three cars that would run were set up ready. Rey and Dean, working in tandem, salvaged working motors from a few others to install into functional tires, which they then set on fire and sent out. The Flairs gunned them down before they got there, so they did little damage, but they kept them at bay and served as a distraction while the cars were prepped to send off. Then, Rey, Dean and Roman started the cars, each getting their vehicle lined up before bailing out into the sand. Seconds later, the car Roman had been in exploded into shrapnel from an RPG blast. Dean’s made it closer before being dealt with, but Rey’s struck home, colliding with a Flair jeep and exploding in glorious chaos. The Flairs decided to begin an assault, force the teams to take cover back in the junkyard itself. Rey had dislocated his shoulder bailing out. He stuffed a rag in his mouth while Finn set the bone again. Dean and Roman made it back unscathed. Neither was keen to get back behind the wheel. The Flairs knew the score now. They were going big.

“I hate waiting,” Seth muttered, watching the shadows draw long and the sun inch slowly westward. 

“Tell me about it. But it must be the only option, or Shin wouldn’t’ve suggested it. He’s a pain in the arse when we gotta wait for anythin’.”

Shinsuke beamed. “ Delayed gratification ,” he said, in Japanese. “That means the murdery part more fun when we get there.”

“Ta for the explanation, Shin, ‘cause my Japanese is nowhere near good enough to understand whatever ya just said.”

“They still outnumber us. Going in guns blazing will alert every one of them bastards in earshot, so that’s right out. You guys ever play Assassin’s Creed?” Seth suggested. “Ya feel me?”

“I- yeah, actually,” replied Finn, surprised. “That’s actually a good idea. What the fuck?”

“Not just a pretty face,” joked Seth. He went ignored. “Do you know Assassin’s Creed, Nakamura? It’s a videogame-”

“Jesus, Seth, ‘course the man knows Assassin’s Creed. He’s from Japan, not the feckin’ North Pole.”

“I know, I know, but - he’s weird .”

“I know Assassin’s Creed,” replied Shinsuke dryly. “Killing people. Like ninja.” It wasn’t funny, really. He was falling back on references and stereotypes for the Western audience. He did that, typically to make an impression or intimidate. Sometimes, though, like right now, it was simply the most apt description.

“Do you think we’ll be able to hold the Flairs off until then?” Finn asked, when Seth was out of earshot.

“Gonna have to, Finn,” Shinsuke said grimly. “Or we won’t see tomorrow.”

-

All the while, time was ticking. Ten, nine. On, on. Whether it was to their redemption or destruction, that was yet to be determined. The Flairs stopped firing, but kept out of range. They were mocking them, daring them to relent, to let up with their molotovs and burning tires. They knew they had better resources, could stake them out longer. They knew eventually the food, gas, functional car parts would run out, and they could move in to finish things.

So this was a siege.

Until night fell.

Eight, seven.

Tick, tick.

Boom .

Chapter Text

Night fell. Or rather, crept up on them, a slow, uneasy twilight before true darkness, of the kind you only get in isolation, made itself known. The sky lingered like a burden; the stars looked on like witnesses. It was hard for anyone to distinguish between imagination and reality in a gloom like this. That was probably why that old show was called the Twilight Zone. The edges blurred, for everyone. But when you were barely hanging onto sanity by a single, tenuous thread, like a spider in the wind, suddenly you had to work twice as hard just to focus. There's nothing in the shadows. Soon, there will be something in the shadows, and that something will be you, blade in hand, ready to kill.

The three of them set out, the plan so firmly imprinted in their minds they skipped a final brief, having already played it in their heads over and over and over. Truth was, they all knew this was a desperate, last ditch plan. But they were committed. Even Seth - who Shinsuke had been watching closely, half-expecting him to flake - seemed to have shelved his ego for the time being. Must have been some heavy duty shelves, to withstand that weight. Shinsuke thought this, and smirked.

"Still laughing at your own jokes?" Finn asked, quietly.

"You know me," Shinsuke replied. "See you on other side, Finn."

"You better," Finn muttered. "Ya owe me about a dozen drinks for draggin' me into this damn mess." He glanced at Rollins. "Ready?"

"Fuck no, broski."

"Good. Let's go."

Go, they did. This was a night for slinking. This was a night patently made for merging with the dark. Sure, there wasn't cover, but it was so pitch black, especially outside the glaring Flair headlights, kept running to expose any would-be sneaky-sneaks. But the thing about bright lights is they make the shadows darker, and so the three of them were able to inch closer, until they were almost in spitting distance of the breakoff group with the RPG. The night watch there milled around, glimmering tips of cigarettes betraying their positions. Further away, the impromptu camp proper was set up, where the reserve guard caught up on their rest, and Charlotte was probably catching her beauty sleep. They had enough people to spare. All they had to do was wait, wear down the defenders, and victory was assured. Overconfidence. It'd be the death of them. Or maybe it was justified, and they'd overpower the three sneaky-sneaks as if they were the three stooges - but you had to live in optimism, right? Benefit of being crazy - you didn't worry so much about consequences. 

As one, they split into three. The other thing about darkness is that it amplifies distance, isolation, so when you're alone in the dark, you are alone in the dark . Unless you're never alone. Shinsuke could feel that tide rising up inside him, the cacophony, and before it could overwhelm him, he picked his target and plunged into the light, stepped across that border in one swift motion, stabbing the poor defenseless merc in the back with his word and in the throat with his knife-hand simultaneously. The guard didn't stand a chance. He didn't have time to scream, just gurgle and die. Grimly, Shinsuke extricated himself and wiped his sword. Next kill. Before the alarm was raised.

He found another guard standing alone, taking a leak, blissfully unaware the threat had already stepped into the circle of light, crossed the threshold from the anticipated hypothetical to the vivid, vicious and real. The Angels of Death.

His luck, so far, had held. But it was inevitable that, sooner or later, it'd run out. No sooner than he'd killed his second target, he heard footsteps and pried himself free. Or attempted to. See, his goddamn knife-hand which had looked so cool had got itself stuck on one of the man's whatsit, neck bones. Vertebrae? That. Fortunately, though, Shinsuke was a font of genius ideas. He decided to pretend to be a corpse too, concealing himself under his victim so he could extricate himself in time to ambush. At least, he really fucking hoped it would work out like that. This would be the stupidest way to die.

"Hey, Truth? What's that?" A familiar woman's voice. Shinsuke couldn't help but beam. His bestest friends in the world! Yay! Just as he thought that, he managed to work his super cool knife-hand out of Mr Deadie Freddie's neck. Perfect. Now for the right moment.

"Shit, I think he's dead!" R-Truth redundantly replied, because the man was very obviously super duper dead. "We gotta call it in." Fumbling sounds, of someone going for a radio - it was time.

"I don't think so," said Shinsuke, rising up to put his sword, once again, against R-Truth's throat.

Once again, Carmella screamed. The two men glared at her. She broke off. "What?"

"Mella, we did this already."

"Yes, and it's very scary, actually!"

"Sorry about her," said R-Truth. "How's it goin', brother?"

"Could be better. Flairs trying to kill us. You know how it is."

"Man, I hate it when that happens."

"Truth, that's our boss he's talking about. He's one of our T-A-G-E-R-T-S." R-Truth looked at her blankly. "One of the people we're here to kill!"

"Don't say that when he has a sword at my neck!" R-Truth flashed a nervous smile. "Listen, we can work somethin' out, right? I don't believe in coincidences, an' I don't believe in temptin' fate by fuckin' with a crazy man like yourself, no offence."

"None taken. You guys wanna make like banana? Split?"

"Aw, that's a good one." Carmella didn't look impressed. "Mella, c'mon. Man's got a point. This was a bum job from the start. Charlotte Flair stuck us out here to die."

"I dunno…" his partner shifted her feet. "People who betray the Flairs don't live long."

"We're not betraying! We're making an expedited getaway. She'll never even know we're gone."

"Okay." Carmella moved her hand from her gun - airhead though she was, she'd been ready to shoot. "Like, if I never have to see a sword-wielding weirdo again, it'll be too soon. What century even is this? And the desert is soooo bad for your skin. Do you moisturize, Mr Nakamura? You have suuuch a nice complexion."

"Yes," Shinsuke deadpanned, letting R-Truth go. "In the blood of my enemies."

Carmella wrinkled her impressive nose. "Gross."

"Aaaand we're outta here. Bye-bye, missing you already, have a nice life, see you never-" R-Truth kept talking as he hustled his partner away. And off they went. What a delightful duo. Maybe they'd settle down and have a brood of children with the combined IQs of a small chicken farm. Unless chickens were actually smart all along. Like that movie. Where they don't want to be pies. What was he thinking? 

He bashed the side of his head, trying to snap back into focus. He felt weird. Loose-limbed, transitory. Passing through in a body that wasn't his own.

"Shinsuke!" Seth's voice. He looked over. Seth was covered in blood. "'s alright. Not mine. Finn has the gun, but he's being overrun. He told me to fetch you."

"Lead the way," Shinsuke replied, following without hesitation, urgency thrumming loud, loud, deafening in his head as he rounded the corner-

-straight into the knife in his ribs.

You fool. 

Oh, you fool.

"I'm sorry," Seth said, gently, and he looked like he meant it. "It's not personal. Under no circumstances can you get to the Trace Italian."

"Finn-" Shinsuke choked, his breaths ragged and bloody.

"Is fine. Will be fine. With you dead, he'll give up on this little misadventure. Unfortunate, but necessary. Fate of the world, and all that."

Kill him kill him kill him kill him

A chorus. A cacophony. Shinsuke tried desperately to stand, and the knife twisted.

"Go to sleep. Dream crazy, crazy dreams." Seth patted him on the head, condescending, like a vet putting down an ailing dog.

Darkness.

Light.

The voices trailed off, into blessed silence, and Shinsuke smiled.

-

Guam, Eleven Months Ago

He had been flushing medication for a couple of weeks, and strategising his escape. He had a mental map of the exits, and wasn't exactly sure, at this point, what he was waiting for. A sign? An opportunity, handed to him on a platter? The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to get out before anyone noticed, whoopsies, the batshit ex-merc leader's back on this planet and a tiny, teensy weensy bit out for blood. For now, though, he waited. Memorised guard patterns. Thought about overpowering them, in a brutal spree of violence, violence, and more violence.

His memories of the last few weeks were fuzzy, but he knew something bad had happened here. Something monstrous, and beyond. Something he didn't even want to remember, so he didn't try. He thought about vengeance instead.

In the end though, his escape was mundane. He forced a window open between guard patrols and slipped out into the night. There was no blaze of glory, no gunfire, just an ordinary hospital escape, barely even worthy of mention. After that, he stowed away on the first boat that caught his eye, a yacht. 

A yacht owned by the McMahon's. If he'd picked another boat that day, he could have been working for the Flairs instead, and he wouldn't have found himself in a pool of his own blood.

But he'd chosen that boat.

And set himself irreversibly on this course, to this fate, with the stars above looking on and the desert wide and emotionless, and the Trace Italian always, always, out of reach.

Chapter Text

On a job like this, you expected losses. It was per the course, unfortunately, but you couldn't let it hit you, not at this stage in the game. Rey was seasoned enough to keep his feelings out of it, and he'd thought Finn was too. This was hardly his first rodeo. Still, even Rey had to admit, losing Shinsuke was a tactical blow. Sure, the guy was loco, but that had its uses. 

They didn't notice at first, in the dark and the haste, and Rey had his eyes on driving them away. He'd seen Seth hop onto the back of the RPG truck, and assumed Nakamura was with him. Wrongly, as it turned out. When they'd put enough distance between them and the Flairs that they'd shaken any ground pursuit, Rey signalled them off road so they could hunker down and hide from the inevitable helicopters. Let the Flairs chase their own tails. It was then that Finn yelled.

"Shin? Where the fuck y'at pal?" He must have suspected, like Rey did, that their wildcard companion was hiding as a prank. But the punchline never landed. "Rey? He with you?"

"I'm sorry." Rey shook his head, at the same time as Seth coughed. 

"He uh- well. No easy way to put it. He didn't make it."

"What the everloving fuck d'ya mean he didn't make it?" Finn growled. "What happened?" Before Seth had time to respond, Finn had pulled a gun. Rey hopped out of the truck, putting himself between them. You could feel Finn's fury sparking, recklessly, aimlessly. He'd destroy himself if left alone, and likely take them all down with them. "Back off, Rey. He needs to give answers. Where's Shinsuke."

"I hear you," replied Rey, calmly, because he had long since mastered turning his emotions off. "Put the gun away, hey?" He fixed Dean and Roman with what he realised was a stern parent glare, despite being of the same rough age bracket. Their hands had, of course, gone to their weapons, but they had the sense to back down, leaving their fellow Shield member in it alone. Some friends. Rey studied Seth, who didn't seem fazed by the betrayal and was avoiding eye contact. He looked the picture of guilt. Rey didn't buy it one bit.

When you lived behind a mask, you learnt to see through other people's, the lies they told. Seth was lying, that much was clear, and Finn was too out of his head to see it. 

These crazy fucking gringos.

He wondered if Nakamura wasn't the only sane one. Why was he going along with this Caucasian bullshit?

Finn didn't lower the gun. He just glared, right through Rey to Seth. "Rey, c'mon. This motherfucker let Shin die."

"We don't know what happened," Rey replied levelly, even though he had his suspicions. "Let the man say his part."

Reluctantly, Finn backed down and Rey saw Seth smirk, just fractionally. Now he was certain. Seth was playing them, and badly; less like a fiddle, more like baby's first piano, bashing out the notes with clumsy fists, but he didn't need to be slick. He knew this would get Finn emotional. Counted on it, in fact. But he hadn't considered Rey -- or if he had, Rey didn't think he'd like whatever Seth had planned.

"I don't know what to tell you," Seth lied. "I saw him go down. I turned to look, and I saw the blood. There wasn't time to check if he was breathing, but his neck-" Seth was cut off, by the gun in his face, again. Finn was breathing raggedly, like a man possessed. "This is why I didn't tell you sooner. You'd have screwed us all for that nut. We'd all be dead too."

"We don't know that he's dead," Finn hissed. "But you fuckin' will be, ya treacherous fucking cunt ."

"If you're going to kill me, just do it already," Seth retorted. "Quit running your mouth and get to the juicy part. C'mon. It's what your BFF you met last week would want."

Part of Rey hoped Finn would take the bait. All of Rey wanted Seth six feet under. Instead, he watched Finn deflate, defeated. "You're not worth it," Finn muttered and stormed off, his face thunderous. The air still felt heavy.

"You could have broken that better," scoffed Roman. Understatement of the year.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Seth muttered. He busied himself making sure they were adequately camouflaged, covering the cars with tarps to create a passable illusion. At least, optimistically passable. Invisible from helicopter. Nobody said a word. Another suspicion rose in Rey's mind -- whatever had happened, the Shield weren't in on it. It had been Seth and Seth alone. But what had happened? That was another question. Was Nakamura really dead? Rey was indifferent, or so he told himself. This job didn't matter to him, nor did the people he'd met on the way. He thought about his family, and his farm, and the night they had spent smoking under the stars. He liked these guys, that was the truth. 

Trust no-one. Sacrifice anyone who outlives their use. Never show your face, except to blood. That was his training, drummed into him from childhood. 

He watched Finn, who wore his emotions on his sleeve, and knew it could only end in tragedy. And he'd watched Shinsuke, crazy motherfucker, and known he was looking at another mask, one that covered real vulnerability. Perhaps that weakness at his core had let him down when it mattered most. The point was, Rey had seen it coming, and detached himself in time.

That didn't mean he liked any of it.

A smart man would get out.

A good man would stay.

Rey wasn't sure where he stood in God's eyes, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice. It was his duty to see this through. He'd always known this day would come. Soon as the strangers showed up he'd been thinking 'Please Lord, not yet. Not now. Deliver us from evil. Don't make me do the delivering myself'.

And now. Now . Now, he went after Finn, because someone had to talk that white boy down before he snapped. Anyone could see he was close to the edge, had been from the start. He'd needed Nakamura as much as Nakamura needed him. 

Finn was sat in the shade of an outcrop, throwing stones at a skittish, skeetering lizard. He didn't look up. The lizard seemed to flicker, darting and dodging every projectile as if playing, as if undaunted, staring down the incoming missiles until the last one hit, abruptly, with a sickening crunch. The lizard fell, killed outright, its death insignificant and unnecessary. It could have run, or Finn could have stayed his hand when he realised the little creature's fearlessness. Neither had backed down.

"Don't," Finn said. "Don't you say a fuckin' thing. I don't wanna hear it."

"I think you should," Rey pressed. "Something ain't right here. I don't know for sure what. Maybe it happened like Seth said, God knows. Don't react, don't give him anything. Whatever happened, it's unlikely Nakamura's alive and we can't go back for him. Now we have to watch our own backs."

"Shoulda killed that psycho bastard where he stood," Finn muttered, but he seemed less spaced. "Still might."

"Not until we know."

"Jesus, you the boss of me now?" Finn bristled, desperately looking for a fight Rey was in no mood to give.

"Hombre, you are far too much trouble. But we gotta play this smart. I took on these bastards alone before, but that was on home turf. We're a man down. We need all the help we can get." Grudgingly, Finn nodded. "Let me hand Señor Rollins. You, keep playing the grieving widow."

At that Finn laughed darkly. "Ain't no playing about it, O King of Mystery." Then, quietly. "I'll tell you what happened last time I went hunting the Trace. I'll tell you the whole fuckin' yarn, beginnin' to end."

Rey listened.

-

Another night settled in over the desert. Those stars.

They'd watched the night before, as Shinsuke fell. They'd watched as he'd told his history to Rey. Now they watched Finn tell his own past.

It wasn't a nice story. It wasn't neat or satisfying.

It was a story Rey had heard many times, but didn't say that, just let Finn keep talking, right up until the stars were joined by a helicopter's searchlight, and the two men had to duck for cover in the cold desert night. After that, Rey didn't need to know how the story ended. He knew. They left it there.

This marks the second story now that Rey heard, which he told no-one else. Be patient. The truth of those stories will come out.

Soon.

Chapter Text

Guam is an island in the Pacific, that the United States colonised in its imperialistic endeavour to replicate the parts of the British Empire it rather liked, actually. When sea levels rose, in the whole apocalypse thing that goes without saying, very little of the island remained. Civilians were evacuated. Leaving only the military. Strategically, it was of little significance, except for the fact they needed somewhere to keep the prisoners who'd gone round the bend. Eventually, with the fall of the government, the base became a private prison. You'd be sent there, and your enemies would pay for you to stay. Except in Shinsuke's case, it was his friends who'd paid for his incarceration, and when he realised that, the first thing he wanted to do was go back to Japan and kill them. Kazuchika Okada most of all. But he didn't. 

Anyway, he wasn't rational for a while. There were brief moments of clarity, during which he'd try to escape, and then the heady numb of sedation. And something was happening there, he knew it, when he knew anything at all. For all that this was supposed to be a private enterprise, there was still far too much military presence. It stank. 

People have this idea about electroconvulsive shock therapy, that you're awake and in agony, spasming and screaming. The truth is that they sedate you, give you anticonvulsants to stop your body shaking and causing any injury. That isn't to say it doesn't hit you like a freight train after. And that doesn't make it any better, if you don't need it and you don't consent to it.

That was a flicker of awareness, and then nothing. Afterwards, haze again. 

He had no idea how long he spent there, dropping in and out of consciousness -- being forced out of it, only to claw his way back with everything he had, to be beaten back again. Anyone else might have given up.

There had to be a reason, he reasoned, that the military were here. Not just to stop the dangerous inmates escaping, himself included, in moments that felt more like dreams, while his dreams felt more real than reality itself. More than once he'd got hold of a weapon, which had been a mistake. If he wanted to get out of here, he needed to slow down and think. 

What were the military doing? What did they want?

By now, he'd dropped off their list of troublemakers. Of course he had. He'd been rotting here long enough. 

They'd brought him here in a shipping container. Okada had apologised before knocking him out, and he'd woken in the shipping container. He didn't remember arriving. He remembered trying to escape, again and again, killing a doctor. His memories got sparser and sparser. He remembered white walls, padded walls. He remembered giving up, only for the need to escape to come back when he remembered who the fuck he was. 

If Okada had really been trying to help him, he'd been lied to. This wasn't a hospital. Something else was going on here. And lovely though the mind-numbing blur of days was, he couldn't figure it out like that. So he had to stop taking the meds. 

By now, nobody was paying much attention to him, idiots that they were. He could spit the meds into a drain or something and let his head clear. Which hurt like a bitch, but needed to happen. It was hard to stop himself twitching and jumping as he came back to life, but he held himself still because he needed to observe. In the old days, observation had been most of his job as a sniper. Before he'd cracked up. He had cracked up, he could admit it. If this had been a hospital, he might have started to be pieced together. It wasn't. He had to help himself.

The first thing he noticed was that the military didn't seem to pay any attention to the inmates, which didn't add up with the idea of them being guards. They instead focused mostly on the white coats, the doctors. That rang alarm bells. 

Human experimentation, of some kind. 

People weren't dying, so it wasn't biological weapons. Honestly, that was probably the only relief here.

So what, then? Were they trying to make some kind of fucking super soldier serum? Testing stimulants to be used on the battlefield? Attempting to hack human consciousness? For weeks, he obsessed over this, trying to make sense of the injections and EEGs and MRIs, trying to form a coherent narrative out of what was being done to them here. He needed to know what he was part of. He couldn't ask. There were inmates who spoke with the doctors and one another, who played basketball outside under armed guard, who had a rapport. But he had clammed up, and he had this feeling if he began speaking again he'd be watched like a hawk. They'd know he was lucid. He'd never escape.

Escape.

It hit him like a bolt from the blue. It didn't matter what they were trying to find here. The experiments didn't fucking matter. He had to get out of here. 

He stole a scalpel to prepare. His plan was to kill a guard, steal a gun and then- 

Promptly be caught. No, he had to do this quietly. In the night. When everyone was supposed to be drugged up and sleeping tight. Creeping out of bed, he slunk to the dorm's adjacent bathroom, where he shut the door and clogged up the lock with toilet paper to buy himself time, before getting to work. 

He climbed onto the toilet seat and set about dislodging the ventilation fan. He used the scalpel he'd planned to kill with as a screwdriver. He worked as quietly and methodically as he could. And at long last, he wriggled out of the vent and was free, though still on the base's land. 

Over those weeks, he'd made a plan in his head of the base. He could see the sea from the upper floors, and he knew that they'd arrived by sea. He had to head to the sea, and from there find a port. From there, he could get off this damn island, leave it in his past. 

Nothing is in the past. There's no past and no future. Just this second right now .

Sound words of advice. He could have been a philosopher, except he was sure philosophers had got there already on that one and figured it all out, so he'd be too late to the party. Oh well. With that second right now, he started running into the night.

A tale of human experimentation, and madness, and abuse of power. A story of trauma and gut-wrenching fear. Rey had listened, not particularly surprised by any of it but still quietly admiring the resilience it took to go through that and come out of it only as fucked up as that. Most people would have gone more batshit. 

Shinsuke was probably dead now. His story should have been done, a closed book. But Rey still wondered. What had really been going on in that hospital in Guam? Was this really where it ended? It couldn't be that simple. 

And on the other side of the coin, you had Finn. Finn, whose story went as follows…

-

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" the girl had kept asking. She seemed much less sure than her partner. They had hired Finn to help them find the Trace, which he had believed in back then, though he hadn't been as sure as those two kids that the Trace would save the world. Still, their enthusiasm had been infectious. It was nice to have something to believe in, he reckoned. Without him, those kids would have been dead in the water, that was how naive they were.

"Can't be sure of shit," Finn replied honestly. "Can't your wee thingamajig tell us?"

The boy shook his head, and shook his weird device, hitting it with one hand to try to make it work. "It's not working."

"If I knew what the feck it was, I might be able to help," Finn muttered. The boy didn't answer. "If it's a bloody Geiger counter I'm out of here, ya hear me?" He didn't know much about that kind of thing, but he knew radiation was a no-go. 

"It's not. It's…you wouldn't understand," said the boy. Really, he and the girl were in their twenties. Years later, Finn would realise he struggled to remember their names. Megan and Chad? Lindsay and David? It was something in that vein, something all-American, apple pie and twee. 

"You wait here," Finn had said. "Don't you move, got it? Unless ya wanna die sooner rather'n later."

The kids had nodded earnestly, and Finn left them to scout ahead. It was the last time he'd see them both alive.

Lance and Carrie, that was it. Carrie and Lance.

It was easier to forget. Push it to the back of his mind. Because when he remembered he remembered it was his fault, for leaving them alone.

Back then, though, he had no suspicion anything was amiss. Truth be told, he didn't think much. He floated, disconnected, through life, taking jobs like this for his own entertainment. Finding the Trace would be entertaining, so he thought. If he stumbled on it before the kids, that'd be fucking hilarious. 

What changed his mind was the bullet that had torn through him just below his right lung. Later, he'd learn he'd been caught in the crossfire of a random spat between local militia. He'd learn this from his bed in one of the sides' field hospital, where he lay while recovering. It had been days before he could speak, and after that he didn't remember the kids until it was too late.

They'd waited for him, he was told. Waited for him to come back, even as their rations ran low, and the night got colder, and Kansas winter started to set in. The girl was dead when they found her. Carrie. Her name had been Carrie. The boy, Lance, looked like he could survive, but Finn didn't wait around to see if he pulled through. If he'd woken up a day earlier, if he'd remembered, Carrie would have lived. If he hadn't gotten cocky and wandered into disputed territory, only to be shot then scooped up and put back together. 

At the end of the day, that wasn't what created the Demon. Nobody had killed Carrie directly, stood and pulled the trigger. Finn knew that, logically. Covering himself in improvised war paint and hunting down whoever it was that had shot him was just his own stupid, half-feverish idea. He couldn't be sure who it was, so he killed as many militia members as he could find. When the two feuding armies had united to hunt him, he'd finally fled into that bitter cold. To die too, he'd thought.

Except the McMahons had picked him up, given him work. They had heard rumours about this Kansas shit, some nutcase killing indiscriminately, unsure and uncaring of who had wronged him. They'd come to find him. Not Finn, who they couldn't give a shit about. But the Demon. Since then, he'd had to act in ways that should have made him feel some kind of way. He felt nothing, mostly. Eventually, he'd retired the Demon, realising the notoriety was getting out of hand, and that wasn't what he'd had in mind. He'd just wanted to hurt someone. The more he thought about it, the more he knew this person was himself.

And that had been his life, until another Trace wanker had asked for a ride from Point A to Point B. He should have seen it coming. This was fate, history repeating itself. 

The worst part was, he'd started to feel again. 

Now? What the hell was left, except carrying this through to the bitter end?

For Shinsuke, and for Lance, and for Carrie .

-

Some of this, Rey pieced together himself. Finn had been cut off before he finished describing his escape; his time with the McMahons, and attempts to regain his soul since, were Rey's own observations. Shinsuke for once had stayed eerily focused, telling his story, and gave only the barest details. None of it was particularly surprising.

They were inevitabilities. Domino effects. 

Two fucked up people had found one another, and things had started to go well for them. Then the universe had interfered. 

Now, Rey would be the first to admit he had his own ulterior motives here, and this wasn't exactly any of his business. But by that same logic, it wasn't Seth's business either.

Someone was going to have to have some choice words with Seth Rollins. 

Finn would just gut the pendejo where he stood. So, in absence of anyone else with common sense, it'd have to be Rey.

After the helicopters moved on, and they could set up camp properly, Rey volunteered himself for third watch, right in the middle of the night. 

The perfect time to strike.

Chapter Text

Before he did anything, Rey made sure Finn was asleep. The last thing he wanted was the Demon going feral on anyone. No, it was Rey’s job to hear what Seth had to say and make his move based on that. To force a confession, whether that was simply his part as witness or any active participant in Shinsuke’s demise. Presumed demise. So, having first ensured that Finn was out for the count, Rey slunk over and injected Seth with a shot of morphine.

Nothing crazy. A safe amount for an adult man. That wasn’t the point. The point was, when Seth jerked awake he saw the needle and Rey had the advantage; he could tell Seth anything, and in his addled, already sleep-deprived state, he’d believe it. A negative placebo.

“I just poisoned you,” he hissed. “You want the antidote, you’ll talk.”

“What the fuck, man?” Seth’s voice rose, hoarse with sleep but still louder than Rey would have liked. A warning glance hushed him; when he spoke again it was lower. “Did he put you up to this?”

“Nobody put me up to anything. You know that, hermano. But I can’t have liars in my circle of trust. You’re gonna tell me the truth. You do something nasty to Nakamura?”

“If I did,” Seth replied, avoiding eye contact. “It would have been to protect us all. Guy was crazy, and it was making Finn crazy, and I dunno what he told you but when he gets crazy, he’s a goddamn monster. Paranoid, dangerous, borderline evil. A demon. That’s the road he was going down. Someone had to call time on it. You would have too, don’t pretend you wouldn’t.”

“What did you do?”

Seth sighed. “I did the right thing. A light stabbing. He could even have survived it! I mean, I didn’t twist the knife.”

“Lies,” Rey shook his head, tutting. “You’re full of shit. You didn’t stab Nakamura out of concern for anyone else. You did this because of the Trace. What’s in it for you? What do you think you’ll find?”

Seth shrugged loosely. “What else? Nukes, man. It’s gotta be. Nuclear codes, weapons, armageddon. And I’m sorry I didn’t let that fall into the hands of a borderline schizophrenic.”

Rey didn’t get chance to press Seth further on where he’d got that bizarre idea from, because Finn (hadn’t been asleep after all, was pissed ) was rushing Seth, pushing Rey aside and plunging at the other man. Straddling him, he pressed a gun to his temple.

“You motherfucker!” His yelling roused Ambrose and Reigns, who didn’t exactly race to help their friend so much as saunter over to watch. “You killed him. I don’t care what ya say, ya lyin’, weaslin’ bastard, ya killed him. Even if the Flairs finished the job, it was still fuckin’ you. Give me a single reason not to kill ya where ya stand.”

“Because,” Rey interrupted quietly. “You don’t want to. You’re not a demon, Finn. You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man now, because you know what’ll happen. You know you’ll be letting in a darkness that can’t be easily killed.”

“But you’d poison one?” Seth snorted. “So much for Catholic guilt.”

“I didn’t poison you,” Rey snapped, and turned to Finn instead. “Finn. We can’t fall apart now, or we’ll die. We have to be in this together. The Trace-”

“Can get fucked!” Finn fell back, collapsing to his knees. “Fuck it. I’m out. I don’t give a shit anymore. Tell Triple H- tell him to deepthroat a cactus.” He stood up and began grabbing his stuff.

Seth, who had been legitimately drugged and was still woozy, tried to stand to go for Finn, but collapsed back into a heap. “Are you sure you didn’t poison me?”

“Yes,” Rey replied. He left the Shield to get themselves together, and went to Finn. “You sure, cabron ? You just gonna walk into the desert and die?”

“I’ll hitch-hike.”

That was the last word Rey would hear him say for a long time. He watched him go, until he was a speck in the night.

Hitch-hike, huh?

With the Flairs on his ass?

Good luck to him, Rey thought. Perhaps he’d find peace out there. It was unlikely, but…perhaps.

He turned his attention back to the Shield. “You gonna try it? I’m sure if you rush me, I’ll be fucked. Two of you, one of me, not to mention size…c’mon. Let’s see how it goes.”

“We can take him,” Seth insisted, but Reigns and Ambrose shook their heads. They turned their backs, wordlessly, giving Rey their blessing to do whatever he wanted.

“You think the Trace is nukes?” Rey laughed. “How dumb are you? It’s worthless to you. People have died for it, and people like you will die for it without ever knowing what they threw their lives away for.”

“And you do know what it is?” 

“If mankind went extinct tomorrow, what would we leave behind?” Rey looked at Seth, who was just some guy, who believed he was doing the best he could. Who had likely killed a man over a misunderstanding. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t find it without my coordinates. And I’m out. It’s over, Seth, and it’s all your fault. You ruined your own shot at finding the Trace. If you hadn’t killed that crazy bastard, you’d have got everything you wanted. This is goodbye now. We won’t meet again.”

He didn’t look back at the Shield, just walked back to one of the cars and hopped in. He could probably catch up to Finn, give him a ride. But he didn’t. Instead, he drove in the opposite direction. 

He was going home. 

When he’d told Seth they wouldn’t meet again, he knew even then this wasn’t it. That it wasn’t over. There was Finn, who was spiralling down and down and down. There was the possibility, not outside the realms of what might be, that Shinsuke was alive. There were enough threads to pull that could unravel everything. And while he wouldn’t be the one to pull them, someone would. He just didn’t know who that would be yet. Or where. Or when. But it was inevitable. 

All of this would come back to bite them.

Nothing was over until all parties involved were dead and buried.

-

That person…

Now, he was in Guam, stepping of a ship with his head held high. He didn’t look tall, didn’t look impressive, until you saw him next to his own bodyguards and he stood taller than them. 

He was Japanese. He was rich, clearly, well-dressed and confident. His short hair was dyed blonde. He was armed. He was used to owning the place.

He was looking for someone. 

Kazuchika Okada was out to make amends. Pulling on threads until they came unravelled.

What happened at the military hospital, nobody would ever tell. Suffice to say it burnt down in mysterious circumstances, when they didn’t have what that person wanted. When their crimes came to light. 

He left Guam. 

Six months later, someone else would arrive in the ruins of New York, Okada's agent.

Looking for a certain Demon.

Chapter Text

6 Months Later

It had been half a year, the Irishman realised, on that hazy winter morning, since his life had upended itself. For the first few months he’d drifted, before settling in New York around October. It didn’t snow here now, not like in those old movies. Actually, you needed a boat to get around. The flooding had utterly consumed Staten Island and much of Manhattan. Some boroughs survived almost intact, and there life went on.

But in the waterways crime flourished, and so that was where Finn Bálor came to rest. He’d take fights for some money, and then live off the cash as long as he could. Half the time his little boat ran out of gas and he’d have to row to his next bout, then the fighter’s fee would go on gas money. He could have organised himself, figured out a system. He didn’t. He was squatting in an abandoned apartment block that seemed to subside further into the water every couple of weeks. Sometimes they had power. Mostly they didn’t, and Finn had invested in solar cells to power his kettle. He was, after all, Irish. He needed tea.

It was a lack of teabags that drove him down to Regal’s leaky attic known as the basement. Presumably it had once been a basement fight ring that had to move upstairs after the flooding, and they hadn’t changed the name; though it could be William Regal playing a joke on all these Americans who didn’t understand irony. 

“Alright, Finn,” the doorman Sheamus, a fellow Irishman, said. “Listen, thought ya should know. Someone’s sniffin’ round about ya. Told the cunt I never heard of ya.”

“Good ta know. Got a description so’s I know what I’m lookin’ out for?”

Sheamus shrugged. “Had a hood up. Didn’t get much of a look at his face. Think he was Japanese though. Ring any bells?”

For a moment, Finn’s heart leapt with hope -- fuck, it couldn’t be - was it before he crushed it. More likely it was unfinished business from his own time out there, someone looking for revenge on the Demon. But he had to ask.

“How crazy was he, on a 1-10 scale?”

“Seemed normal,” Sheamus replied, and whatever hope Finn might have privately harboured died right there. His next statement buried it; “Then again, ya never do know. Maybe he skins cats an’ eats babies for fun. Oh, he was a right short-arse too. If that helps. Normal’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Finn replied, dully. “It is.”

-

William Regal was a solid bloke, and he always found something for Finn no matter how packed the card was. Today was no exception; there was a mad Scotsman who kept biting people’s faces off, and nobody willing to fight the bastard. If it had just been about the teabags Finn would have walked away but he was running low on other supplies, like tinned food and toilet paper. A man needed to eat and shit, in a constant never-ending loop. Running out of teabags had just pushed the fight a couple of days closer than it would have needed to be anyway. 

Besides, Aleister Black mostly had a reputation for biting the English and Americans. Finn figured as an Irishman he might duck the Scottish psychopath’s wrath. Fellow Celts, and all that. One could only fucking hope Black wasn’t a Rangers man. 

This news about someone looking for him didn’t disturb Finn much. Perhaps they were watching him now, as he walked into the ring like any other Tuesday. Let them watch. Let them see the Demon hadn’t been slacking. Because Demon he was, right now. Not the lamb but the slaughterer.

Trying to be something more had never got him anywhere. It had only ever brought him pain. So he was done trying.

The usual crowd at the Basement was mostly foreigners -- that is to say, Irish, Scots, English, and other Europeans freshly come over to the remnants of the States. It was a drunk crowd, and a belligerent crowd, a crowd that threw bottles at the cage whether they were pleased or put out. It was rather reassuring, to Finn anyway. A good dive bar was hard to find out here, not one that felt so beautifully familiar. You had people claiming to be Irish on one drop, it was nice to have this slice of home.

Even if that did consist of drunken hooligans pelting beer bottles while you got ready for a punch-up with a semi-cannibal.

You take what you can get, sometimes.

Aleister Black had these cold grey eyes. You knew immediately that you were a bug to him. There was no solidarity in those eyes. Wishful thinking.

Sometimes ‘take what you can get’ led to you taking an absolute beating.

Finn found himself backed up against the wire, the steel cutting a cross-cross pattern into his back, while Black pummelled him with blow after blow. One of his eyebrows -- Finn’s, that is -- had split and was bleeding right down his face into his eye. Half-blinded, he just about saw Black take a step closer, perhaps saw or didn’t see his lips curling. In his mind, he knew what was about to happen, and the Demon struck first.

He bit down and Black’s ear tore. Half of his ear was off now. The Demon spat out the earlobe and gave a bloody smile. Then he lunged forwards.

When Finn came to, he was being held back by Sheamus. Black was staggering to his feet, too tough to stay down (too insane, even) but his legs were unsteady. He was being kept back by Regal. He was bleeding from the side.

Finn became aware of a throbbing in his palm, his fingers. He looked down at his hand and saw a shard of a beer bottle that he’d been gripping hard enough to cut. 

Shocked, he dropped the glass. What the fuck had he done?

What more would he have done if he hadn’t been stopped?

He’d blacked out, stone cold sober. To the audience it must have looked like a fight going too far, nothing special, but when Finn met William Regal’s eyes, he knew the other man knew. Of course he did. He was too experienced not to know.

Fuck .

“Our winner, Finn Bálor,” Regal said, taking Finn’s arm and holding it up. More quietly, through gritted teeth; “You’ll get your money for this one, yeah, but don’t think of coming back. I’m sorry.”

Nor was Black in a particularly forgiving mood as they left the cage. “You’re a dirty fucking cheat. Fucking Irish. You’ll pay.”

“Try,” Finn said, just as Sheamus stepped back between them. 

“You wanna repeat that? Manky Scots feckwit.”

In all that drama, Finn managed to get his eyebrow patched and his hand bandaged, down his free winner’s pint in one and get his money. Regal was busy setting up the next fight, which was good because they had nothing to talk about. His decision was made and it was final. Finn couldn’t say he disagreed, even.

He left the Basement surreptitiously. Sure, he could have scored more free drinks, worked the crowd. But he needed air, to clear his head.

Someone did notice him leaving though. Someone who hadn’t taken their eyes off him.

That someone followed.

Bingo .

-

Someone was following him. Finn should have noticed immediately. Too sloppy. He was nearing home when he noticed the other but lagging a little way behind his. He turned the Jenny’s motor off and stood up, facing down the shadow on his back.

“Hey. Wanna kill me, here’s ya shot. Well?”

“I just want to talk,” said the stranger. Definitely Japanese. Definitely not Shin.

“We’re talking. Who the fuck are you?”

The stranger pulled their hood down, revealing a shock of pink-green hair. Who had the time or money for hair dye these days? They wore a strange baby-faced mask, utterly fucking creepy it went without saying. “Don’t worry about who I am. I’m not even looking for you, really.”

“He’s dead,” Finn replied. “He died in the desert six months ago.”

“No.”

From their bag they removed something, tossing it over to Finn’s boat. The shape was awkward, hard to catch, and Finn almost dropped it straight into the Atlantic. But he didn’t and as he turned the object over his stomach lurched.

It was a prosthetic hand.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

“Let’s talk properly.”

Finn had to capitulate. It wasn’t real evidence, but it meant whoever this person was, they knew Shinsuke had lost a hand. If he’d just died in the desert, his body would have been picked apart by vultures and nobody would know that little detail. 

Could he really be alive?

Had Finn abandoned him?

He docked his boat and waited for the stranger. When they got there, he was surprised. He’d assumed when Sheamus had said ‘short-arse’, it had been Sheamus talking smack. But the stranger was extremely short, shorter than Rey even…at least, short for a man. With long hair. And a clear voice, low for a woman -- but that seemed most likely right now.

As if reading his mind, the woman removed her mask. The face underneath was female, and beautiful yet fierce. Not soft or girlish, a grown woman with dark, guarded eyes. “Now we see each other. Now we talk.”

“Answer my bleedin’ questions,” Finn hissed. “Who are ya? Where’d ya get that?”

“Found it at a crime scene. Sniper. Interrupted. Used a sword to get out. Lost this in the scuffle. How many one-handed snipers use samurai swords? Can’t be a large pool of suspects.”

“You talk like a cop.”

The woman laughed. “Close. Vigilante. You can call me Asuka. You’re going to lead me to Shinsuke Nakamura.”

“Why would I do that?” Finn’s heart was pounding in his ears, but he kept himself externally cold. “If Shin’s alive, you should leave him the fuck alone.”

“Because he’s a prisoner of the Flairs. You left him once. Can you do that again?” The woman grinned. Oh, she was crazy too. People had it in their heads Japanese women were demure and polite. Submissive, even. This woman though? She was fucking unhinged.

But she was right. Finn couldn’t abandon Shinsuke again.

“I need to buy tea,” he said. “You can tell me everything over a cuppa.”

-

Back at Finn’s, Asuka dumped too much milk and far, far too much sugar into her tea. Even looking at it gave Finn diabetes. It reminded him of Shinsuke, biting down on expired candy at a gas station.

“You haven’t told me your interest in Shinsuke. If you’re hunting him to finish the job-”

“So suspicious,” Asuka chuckled. “No. I’m an independent agent. I was hired by a friend of Mr Nakamura’s to find him alive.”

“Who?”

“Kazuchika Okada. He would have come in person, but he’s a busy man. Plus -- I speak better English.” Asuka sipped her tea, winced, and put another lump of sugar in.

“Why? No offence, but when Shin and I were running around on our mad Trace hunt, Okada didn’t seem to give much of a shit. So why now?”

Asuka shook her head. “Don’t know. Does it matter? He wants to make sure Nakamura is alive and safe.”

“How altruistic,” Finn muttered. “Are we sure he doesn’t want us to find Nakamura to use himself?”

“Not my job to care,” Asuka replied, then perked up. “So you’re in? You said us .”

“I guess I did,” Finn sighed. “Tell me what we’ve got.”

There wasn’t much to tell. Asuka had got her info, that Shinsuke was with the Flairs and the hand itself, from Okada, who had got them both from somewhere . That job had taken place in Louisiana, six months ago. It was hardly much of a lead.

But the workmanship on the hand was striking. Finn recognised it.

Or rather, the workmanship.

Becky Lynch.

Perhaps if they’d had to replace the hand, they’d have gone back to her. Perhaps. It was all they had to go on.

Becky fucking Lynch.

Again .

Chapter Text

It took a solid week of driving back west, and more gas than Finn cared to contemplate, to reach the stop where all this had began, way back. Where AJ had warned him about Finn, where H had given him the job. To get the gas money, Finn and Asuka worked occasional odd jobs cross country, mostly courier work, but occasionally they would have to pull in to a dive bar and Finn would go inside to take a fight. He didn’t like doing that, he could feel the Demon gnawing on his bones, but they needed to get across the whole fucking US of A, so he bit his tongue until it bled, and pushed his worse impulses down. Several times he had come close to snapping, barely keeping himself from crossing the invisible line. 

On one occasion, Asuka had looked at him and rolled her eyes. “I go fight,” she said, as if she weren’t tiny, compared to the men who brawled in these underground things. They’d eat her alive; or would they? Something about her was thoroughly unhinged.

“Wouldn’t feel right lettin’ a lassie fight for me,” Finn insisted anyway. Sure, he knew ladies who could hold their own in this ruined world. There was a difference, however, between holding one’s own and getting into a fucking cage match. 

Asuka looked at Finn like he was the crazy one (which was very possible, at this stage) and then burt out laughing. “Oh, you think I’m little girl. Funny. I don’t lose.”

“These guys won’t pull their punches,” Finn warned, and Asuka bared her teeth. 

“Neither will I,” she said, and a shiver ran down Finn’s spine. Why did he feel sorry for whoever her opponent would be? That poor guy was about to be thoroughly humbled in front of a crowd of his peers, not to mention the physical injuries Asuka would undoubtedly inflict. Poor, poor asshole. Still, they needed the money and in they strolled, up to the bar.

“Here to fight,” Asuka declared, and Finn did cringe a little inside. Forget everyone else’s fragile masculinity, he felt like an asshole right now.

“You?” The bartender scoffed. “Little lady, we don’t got no women’s division.”

“Don’t need one,” Asuka replied. She bounced a little on her feet, which only made her look all the smaller. 

“I dunno how the guys will feel about-” the bartender began, but didn’t get chance to finish, because Asuka jumped, cat-like, onto the bar and headbutted the motherfucker, hard. Her right hand wandered, finding an empty beer bottle just waiting for her to seize it. In a movement so smooth it looked effortless, Asuka smashed the bottle and brought the sharp edge to the bartender’s throat. She looked back at Finn and smiled.

“Your favourite,” she said, oblivious to the click of firearms as the bar armed itself. Or perhaps she didn’t care.

Someone at the back of the bar applauded. Finn turned to see someone all too familiar.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Reigns? Rollins put you up to this?”

“Believe it or not, I’m a free agent,” Roman said. “Cousin of mine got in touch, fronted me the money for a solo operation. I figured you heard the same rumours I did. Call off your girlfriend, and I’ll buy you both drinks.”

Asuka leapt down from the bar and sauntered over to Reigns’ table without a car in the world, casting Finn a withering look when he didn’t immediately follow. The bar breathed again. Finn didn’t yet. He realised his fists were clenching, nails digging into his palms hard enough to mark.

When he’d heard the applause, he’d thought…for a second. Hoped, really.

“You gonna stand there forever or wake up?” muttered the bartender, dabbing his nose. “Fucking crazy bitch. You oughta keep her on a leash.”

“Go fuck yourself with a rusty chainsaw,” Finn replied, and woke up to the reality where he had to go and make pleasant small talk with Roman Reigns. Fuck that. He’d skip straight to talking shop. 

He sat down in opposite Reigns and folded his arms. “What’s going on?”

Asuka had pulled up a chair too, turning it around to sit backwards. “I heard of you. Nice ink. Very identifiable . If you got eaten by shark and it spat your arm out, everyone would know.”

“Do you just like…collect?” Reigns asked, the same question Finn had been asking himself for a while.

“The point, Reigns,” Finn growled, almost demonically . 

“The Flairs haven’t exactly been quiet lately. They’re after the Trace.”

“Last I checked, they didn’t believe in the Trace. At least not enough to target it.”

“Well, something changed. Rey was looking into it, but he’s dropped off the grid. His kid’s launching a rescue mission to get him back. Figure you’d want in.”

Though they were speaking in lowered tones, Finn didn’t exactly want to drop his bombshell on Reigns in a dive bar. He turned to Asuka, looking for her input, and only saw an empty chair. 

Shit, the fight .

Now, Finn wasn’t worried about protecting Asuka, more like protecting these punks from certain death (for his own sake; it was unwise to foster too many enemies). He met Reigns’ eyes, and the Samoan smirked. Arsehole. 

“We’d better fo watch the show,” the utter bastard said, “then you can decide if you want in.”

“Oh, I’m in,” Finn said, hitting the fuck it button, “Shin’s alive. Of course I’m bloody in.”

-

Asuka didn’t just triumph in the ring, she dominated , but that went without saying. From the moment she set foot in the squared circle, her demeanour shifted, becoming that of a hungry predator, vicious as she stalked her prey. Her opponent was some lardy trucker type, Otis or Otto, who the fuck knew? Who the fuck cared? He was broad, but slow, and it took no time at all for Asuka to run rings around him, once again bouncing cheerfully on the balls of her feet the whole while, and smiling . When she hit, she hit hard and she hit vicious , clapping her hands on his ears to make them ring, jabbing her fingers in his eyes, and striking repeatedly firmly and precisely. And when she headbutted Otis? It was all over. Never before had Finn seen a takedown so methodical. Once, Asuka had caught a body shot, and she’d laughed it off.

All of this was disjointed in Finn’s mind, divorced from how it happened sequentially, because next to him was Roman and he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

“What do you mean he’s alive?” Roman didn’t say that name, as if he were like that demon in that old movie, the one with the green hair and striped suit. “Seth put him down. And last I checked, when Seth Rollins kills someone, they stay dead.”

“Not this time. I thought you said, you’d heard rumours.”

“Different rumours, clearly.”

“You said Rey’s missing.” Asuka was about to finish the fight, that final headbutt impending. “Where’s Dominik now?”

“With his girlfriend. They’re pulling a team together, but it’s hard to find trustworthy people. You see, the girl, she’s crazy.”

“Who isn’t?” Finn muttered, as the fight concluded, spectators booing and cheering in roughly equal measure. “Who the fuck isn’t?”

-

They got out of the bar quickly, having collected Asuka’s winnings and bounced before the atmosphere could turn nasty. Apparently Dominik and his girl were holed up in some shitty motel with a lot of guns but no plan. Why Reigns was helping them wasn’t clear. Unless he’d had a grand transformation with Rollins gone, Finn had to suspect ulterior motives.

Something else bothered Finn. Rey being missing stank to high heaven, but hell, the guy’s name was King Mystery. No, what he truly disliked was not knowing the whereabouts of Seth arseface Rollins. It’d be bloody typical for him to show up to throw a monumental spanner in the works. All these thoughts ran through Finn’s head, as he followed Reigns’ motorbike to the motel. Asuka, in the passenger seat, was quietly counting her winnings over and over. Until she spoke up, suddenly.

“Wondered when he’d show up. Surprised he’s working with Dominik though.”

“You did your homework.” Finn gave a grudging grunt of respect. “Anythin’ else happen ya keepin’ mum about? Ya don’t happen to know where Ambrose an’ Rollins are?”

Asuka pulled a face. “Ambrose changed his name back and went West. He’s bodyguarding in California now. Seth Rollins vanished. Bad sign, right? Should watch our backs. Plus, all I heard about Dominik’s girlfriend says she’s bad news.”

That made Finn laugh, despite himself. “What do you consider bad news?”

“Just what I heard."

"Well, I kinda owe Rey. We get him out, then we find Becky. It's just a brief detour." Finn didn't like the change in plans. Every second wasted, something terrible could happen. Something terrible was happening, out there in the fucked up world they lived in, and every second they wasted, the odds were more likely that something would happen to one or both of the people they needed to see.

"Whatever you say." And with that, Asuka went back to counting her money.

Up ahead, the lights of the motel flashed, like a poisonous frog warning of danger. Stay away, it said, and Finn ignored his instincts, pulling up into the parking lot just behind Reigns; who admittedly did look damn good on a motorbike -- Asuka whistled when he took his helmet off, letting his majestic hair flow.

“Room 401,” Roman said, flashing Asuka a charming grin. Handsome prick. Smug handsome prick. Finn wanted to bury him up to the neck, slather him in honey, and release fire ants on him, but he wasn’t sure where to get the fire ants.

They approached the room cautiously, on the off-chance it was a trap. Finn stayed well behind Roman, cautious, while Asuka watched their back. As they came within earshot of the room, Finn’s doubts died, but it didn’t put him at ease. Inside, a couple were clearly screaming at each other with a venom unheard of outside that old Christmas song about New York. The word cunt could be heard rather a lot. Before they could even knock, the door flew open, and a rather edgier, dishevelled punk Dominik Mysterio burst out of the room. 

“That’s right, run away! Pussy!” The woman’s voice was vicious, and Finn’s heart sank. Australian . Fucking Aussies.

It took a moment for Dominik to recognise Finn, but he did. “You- you came to the farm. My dad came back after the job went south, then left again. There’s been no word since.”

“An’ Dom don’t have the balls to go rescue him!” the girlfriend called. She came to the door, clad mostly in leather, with slick hair and eyeliner and yes, the aura of bad news Asuka had described. “That’s why he’s my pet, ‘cause he needs me to wear the trousers, don’t you?” 

She was practically purring those last words. It was uncomfortable, and Finn didn’t want to indulge any such nonsense. “Yeah, well. We’ll get him back no problem. Then you gotta do somethin’ for me. In fact, it’s entirely possible our goals will align. We’re gonna fuck over the Flairs so royally they won’t be able to find their arses with both hands.”

The woman laughed. “I like him. Glad to see you got friends that ain’t limp dick fuckheads. No offense, Roman.”

“None taken, I think,” Roman replied, oddly jovial. What the fuck was his angle? Cousin fronting the money, what did that mean? Finn’s paranoia was screaming. “Rhea, Finn Bálor. Finn, Rhea Ripley.”

“Charmed,” Rhea said, while Finn just nodded. He was less than enamoured with this woman, who needed to put others down to feel important.

And that was when everything went wrong.

“Hey, Finn!” Asuka yelled, out of nowhere. “Your car!”

He whipped around so fast, only to see his car pulling out of the space like greased fucking lightning. 

“We got wheels,” Rhea said, without hesitation, tossing Finn the keys. “Show me what you can do, Irish.”

The chase was on.

Chapter Text

Rhea’s truck didn’t have the turn of speed as Finn’s much lighter dodge, but it did have one advantage; it had a competent driver behind the wheel. Of course, it had been a while since Finn had driven anything else, but watching his fucking car careen wildly ahead, he wondered if the thieves had ever driven anything at all . The truck also had a bigger engine, so his hope was they’d burn themselves out and need to refuel before crashing into a tree.

Like the tree, right up ahead, crooked and half dead, that only an idiot would have hit. His car was wrapped around it, with smoke coming out of the engine, while an oddly familiar pair yelled at each other. Disbelieving, Finn pulled the truck over and hopped out, already gritting his teeth.

“Like, what the actual fuck, Truth?”

“Mella, baby, I told ya, I never drove stick!”

“Nuh-uh, this has nothing to do with stick, and everything to do with you spinning out!”

“There was a pothole!”

“Which you hit!”

“You didn’t tell me it was there!”

“Well, you should have been watching the road.” Carmella noticed Finn first and threw her hands up. “It was his idea. I was an innocent princess, you know? He’s been leading me astray ever since we first met. I am so sorry about the car- wait, you? Shit.”

R-Truth looked at Finn, and the penny could be seen bouncing around his head before it finally dropped.

“Aw, hell no! Man, we were out!”

Finn ignored him, walking past them to check over his car. Asuka hopped down from the bed of the pickup, along with Rhea, who got out of the passenger seat, both of them with their guns drawn. Moments later, Reigns pulled up on his motorbike, another body to keep things under control, while Finn inspected his vehicle. 

Actually, the car was salvageable. Not so fucked as it looked at first. They’d hit the tree, yes, but side on, and not at speed, after the pothole. The smoke- Finn checked inside and found the engine still running. Putting the key in the ignition, he turned it off. He was a little more optimistic now. He headed back to the others, and found the women…well, being complete psychopaths.

“Let’s string ‘em up by their ankles and light a fire underneath,” Rhea was suggesting.

“No, no. Death by a thousand cuts.” Asuka bared her teeth. Why she was joining in this nonsense, Finn wasn’t sure. Enrichment, presumably.

Finn waited for them to notice his presence and finally shut up. He looked at the idiot thieves. “No bullshit. What happened here?” Both of the morons started yapping away at once. Finn sighed, reaching for his gun. They shut up again quickly. “Why are you stealing cars?” He pointed the gun to Carmella. “Well?”

“Because, genius , we walked. Away from the money and success we could have had. No thanks to you and fruit loops. Wait, where is he? Oh my god, is he gonna jump out of a chasm again and-”

Finn ignored her, pointing the gun to R-Truth, who nodded quickly. “It’s true, we ran. I swear brother, we didn’t know this was your car. We were out, then we heard the Flairs came to town to set up shop. So Mella and made the executive decision to bounce.”

Finn inhaled sharply. “You’re gonna tell us everything you heard about that. Location, details, everything . You’re also gonna hitch my car up to the truck, both of you, all by yourselves. Get to it, before I put fresh holes on your heads and we see if there’s anything in there or not.”

They didn’t argue. Finn had almost expected them to nitpick, ask what they were supposed to do first, but they immediately jumped to it on the car. Rhea made an impressed noise, and looked like she was about to say something mindless and inane, which Finn truly couldn’t be arsed listening to. 

“Call me when we know where next. Oh, and don’t kill those useless pricks. They’re just idiots, and it’s bad karma. Just…I dunno, tie ‘em to the fuckin’ tree an’ leave ‘em to figure the rest out themselves.” With that, he crossed the road and found a rock to sit on, back turned, staring off at the sunset. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight until his ears rang and white hot light flashed before him. All he could think about was driving off, dragging those jackasses behind the truck until they stumbled and fell and died . They had crashed his fucking car! They deserved it. The demon was fighting to get out.

Instead, he waited until Asuka sat down beside him.

“Warehouse compound due east. Rhea and Dom are set on storming it.”

“And they want me to take point, don’t they?” Could any of these stupid fuckers wipe their own backsides without him? “We need to get to Becky Lynch, find out what she knows, and fix my fuckin’ car, but-”

“The Flairs.”

“Yeah.” This was what they needed. That didn’t mean Finn had to like it. And if Rey had gone and got himself captured, that only worsened their odds, particularly with only one getaway vehicle.

“Reigns says he knows a place to stash the car, ‘til the job’s done.”

Ordinarily, Finn wouldn’t have trusted Roman Reigns as far as he could throw him. And he really, profoundly disliked leaving his car in the hands of strangers, trapping himself into one course with no way out. There was no guarantee when they’d even be able to come back for the car like this. It needed new tires, having hit the pothole twice on the right, and after it spun right around into the tree, the entire right side itself was pretty fucked, but nothing internal was substantially damaged. Becky’s junkyard would have the parts to repair the cosmetics, and Finn hoped they could replace the tires at Roman’s warehouse/safehouse/whatever-it-was. 

Not that hope had ever got him very far.

-

Before they left, Finn went to the idiots tied to their tree, already wriggling about in vain attempts to escape. “Hey. Dipshits. I got a question. My friend, who I was with last time. The crazy one. You see him around?”

“What, did you lose him somewhere?” Carmella sneered. “Maybe you should get dog tags.”

“Maybe you should watch your mouth before I change my mind on killing you.” That shut her up. “Another thing. You see a short guy in a mask with an absolute shittonne of tattoos?” 

“Wait wait, yeah!” R-Truth said, and Dominik suddenly was there, shotgun pressed against Truth’s head. “What- oh c’mon man! I told you what you wanted to hear!”

“Where is he?” Dominik looked like a desperate, feral animal. 

“Man, I don’t know. We were going one way, he was going another.”

“He was headed toward the Flairs,” Carmella said, which honestly went without saying, because any child could have figured that out at that point. “He had this RV all rigged up with solar panels and a gun on top. Crazy shit. Can you guys like, stop pointing guns at us and just leave us to die in peace? It’s too stressful. I’m gonna break out.”

Reluctantly, Dominik lowered the gun and allowed himself to be coaxed away, back to his needlessly mean, psycho girlfriend. Finn couldn’t see Rey appreciating that chick very much. Maybe they should kill her, steal her truck, and just drive off. 

His car had been somewhat secured behind the truck. Checking it over, he hopped in the back, next to Asuka. Roman pulled up beside them on his motorbike. 

“I’ll take you to the safehouse. Follow me.”

“Don’t go to slow, or I’ll run you down,” Rhea laughed. Fucking nutcase. Sat behind her, Finn could really see the appeal of stabbing someone in the back with a katana. He could see the appeal of going crazy right about now, completely.

Asuka’s hand on his shoulder. She fixed him with a look, and shook her head. At this point, Finn wouldn’t have been surprised to learn she was psychic. It would have tracked. Still, he nodded, closing his eyes.

It would be foolish to sleep, but it would be utterly moronic not to rest at all.

So he rested, as best as anyone could with a complete mental case like Rhea Ripley behind the wheel. It was a testament to his own exhaustion he was able to black out at all. 

He didn’t dream. Didn’t drift off deeply enough to enter REM sleep at all.

When he woke up, his mouth tasted disgusting, and he felt stiff all over, worse than before he’d slept. He hated everything, wanted to kill every last fucker who’d ever so much as looked at him funny. 

The perfect frame of mind to start planning all-out war. He got out of the truck, realising they were finally at the safehouse. Asuka was grinning, bouncing about like an excitable child. Why exactly-

“Finn!” She saw him, and hugged him out of nowhere. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with you? Did I die for a bit in the car? What’s going on?”

Asuka chuckled. “Roman’s cousin owns this place. He left some toys here. Real good military stuff. Body armour. Weaponry. Everything you could possibly want.”

“A unicorn.”

“Probably!” Asuka clapped her hands together. “We got this, Finn.”

A tiny fragment of hope mistakenly stirred in Finn’s chest. Maybe they did got this after all. 

“Alright,” he yawned, shaking off the disgusting feeling of having napped, “Let’s do it.”

-

“Your cousin won’t mind us raiding his stash?” Finn asked Roman, who was thoroughly kitted up by now, personally carrying more guns than one person should physically be able to hold. He was moving them to the pickup, but it did create a temporarily hilarious image of a walking arsenal. 

“Nah, he’ll never notice. Got bigger fish to fry, these days. Besides, we can just call it business expenses.”

Which meant if he did notice, they’d all be fucking dead, but what else was new? 

“Going in hot will get us all killed,” Finn pointed out. He hated to spoil the party, really he did. But someone had to be realistic around here. “I’m not saying leave shit behind. This is good stuff. We just gotta...Asuka and I, we’ll scout the place first and come up with a map and a plan. Once we got that, we can plan a full scale assault with fuckin’ acid-breathing vampire bats or whatever the latest shit is. You two-” He wheeled around, fixing Dominik and Rhea with a look he hoped was suitably demonic. “Sit the fuck down until we get back. Reigns, shoot them if they pull anything stupid. In the kneecaps, preferably.” 

“Kneecap,” Rhea said, wistfully, “Great Irish band from the old days. You like them much, Irish? ‘course, you’d remember back then.”

Finn elected to ignore her, simply stocking up. For all he talked about not going in hot, he still filched himself an AR. 

And a few grenades. You could never be too careful, even on a scouting trip. While Rhea was busy sorting through C4 and so on, Finn decided to check on Dominik, who was refuelling the truck.

“You good?”

“Why do you care?” the kid snapped. “All of this is your fault. My dad went missing because of you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Finn sighed. “Look, you wanna blame anyone, blame Rey himself. He has these fuckin’ ideals an’ morals an’- if it hadn’t been me, showing up with the key to the Trace, something else would have come up. Because it’s the Trace, an’ it’s gonna kill us all in the end. Your dad knows what he’s getting into. You gotta get your head around that if you wanna save your old man, an’ stop bein’ such a whiny brat.”

Dominik, very rationally, swung at Finn. Finn stepped to the side. At least, he thought he did. The next thing he knew, though, he was standing on Dominik’s throat, pressing down. His hand was in his pocket, wrapped around something made of cold steel. A lighter. He heard Rhea somewhere, laughing and whooping at something Roman had said. He recoiled, knelt down to help Dominik back up. 

Dominik looked at him uneasily, but accepted his hand.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, yeah?” Finn said, his voice weary. His hands were shaking as he walked away to find Asuka. Half of him expected Dominik to shoot him in the back there and then. And would he really be wrong to do so?

The gunshot never came.

Asuka was nowhere in sight. The warehouse was big enough that you could walk for a while and vanish among the shelves of gear. Probably she was having the time of her life somewhere deep in its barely-lit shadows. 

Leave her to it. Instead, Finn hopped onto the truckbed, with the supply of extra weapons Rhea and Roman kept adding to. 

“You can get in the front, Irish,” Rhea told him, as she hefted a crate labelled C4 onto the back with him. Dominik said nothing, the bruise on his neck purpling angrily, though no-one seemed, as yet, to notice. Finn shook his head. Didn’t want to be in an enclosed space right then, couldn’t trust himself. “Suit yourself.”

Roman passed by, with more ammo just in case. He was properly mental, actually, Finn was realising. His brain was cooked, and what was left was soup. “Flairs compound is just Southeast of town. We’ll drop you off by the perimeter of the compound. You figure a way in. If we gotta bounce, we’ll radio, and meet back at the motel, right? Don’t you come here unless you’re certain you’re clean.”

“Got it.”

Moments passed. At long last, Asuka hopped up beside him. Whatever she’d appropriated, she was happy about. He opened his mouth to ask her what she’d got them, but instead she cut in, “Hey Finn, just because you wanna die, doesn’t mean you gotta volunteer us for a suicide mission, you know?”

“Who says I want to die?” Asuka just looked at him firmly. “You don’t have to-”

She laughed. “Please, this is crazy. Of course I’m in. The challenge, the…how do you say, the love of the game?”

“This is fun to you?”

“No,” Asuka replied. “Fun is not the right word. You know in the zoo they used to give lions big ball full of meat, and lions must roll it around, get the meat out.”

“You’re saying it’s enrichment ?”

“Yes!” Asuka clapped her hands together. “I have my job, and I could do it boring, Point A Point B. But you are a key asset here. So we do things your way. More challenge.”

“So it’s an ego trip?”

Asuka gave him a bright, cheerful thumbs up. “As much as you trying to get yourself killed is, and me with you. You make the problem. I keep us alive.”

The car started up, the engine covering their voices from those inside. Quietly, leaning in so he could be absolutely certain not to be heard, Finn whispered, “I’m losing it. Snapped on Dom, almost blew us both sky high. Couldn’t even remember how we got there. I don’t know how well I can have your back.”

“I get it,” Asuka replied, sagely, “Hard mode.”

“It’s not a-” Finn cut off. Wasn’t it all a game, when it came down to the wire. “Alright, why not? Fuckin’ hard mode. Let’s do it.” 

He raised his hand for a fist bump, which Asuka met. Sure, he still felt like ripping his own face off, but that was the challenge, wasn’t it?

Hard mode.

So fucking be it.