#also alex has a secret that i gave the tinniest barely clue to somewhere in here

[clicheantagonist]

WiP Wednesday Friday

just shy of the weekend!!!

Thankies for the continued inclusion in the tags: @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @shallow-gravy and @inafieldofdaisies

I'M BACK ON MY BULLSHIT AND I'M FINALLY POSTING THE BOYS AU after I completely changed the plot I worked on for months a day and a half ago. Ehehehehe chaos.

Be gentle, I really did just let the first impulsive thought win after months of struggling to write and KEEP writing.

“You'd sell me to the Devil without a second glance. Trade me for a paycheck if you got the chance. […] One of many, but you say the best you've ever had. So tell me that you love me, then stick the knife in my back. God, I really worry 'bout the people that you stab, but it's your turn soon. Karma is a bitch like you.”

-Maisy Kay (ft Teisto), “Karma Is A Bitch Like You”

 “There was some other God then, a God for whom the spilling of blood was a prayer, an act of devotion. And they’ve been praying to that God their whole lives.”

-Brandon Taylor, “Filthy Animals”

“Shepherd.” Alex answers, work phone trilling loudly beside her as she lounges in bed, watching the news with morbid fascination. It seemed the Supes had beaten the mad scientists and their corpo overlords in the race to control the country. Not something on Alex’s yearly bingo list, but not entirely shocking, either.

“Got a job for ya, love.”

Alex sits up, eyes narrowing as she looks frantically for the remote to mute the tv.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not taking new clients right now and – “ Alex starts, laying low amidst the current political unrest.

There’s something familiar about the voice on the other end of the call, but it brings a vague, anxious connotation with it.

“Aw, don’t remember me, eh? That stings.”

Alex’s lips pull up in an amused smirk. At her age, coupled with her substance abuse and all the head trauma through the years, her memory isn’t what it once was and she’s open to being wrong.

“Refresh my memory.” Alex invites, curiosity gnawing at her. Its not often she can’t recall a voice, certainly not one as distinct as this guy’s.

“You and yer hubby had a run in with tha C.I.A. some years ago over biological weapons trafficking.”

Alex has to think back a moment, there had been several close calls with various law enforcement agencies throughout the years, but there’s a reason Alex is still a free woman.

“City?” Alex presses, drawing a blank.

“Miami.”

“Were you a bribe or a break?” Alex asks, not finding the further information helpful.

“Break. Ya dislocated me shoulder.”

He doesn’t sound annoyed or resentful, rather it sounds like he’s chuckling around his words.

“Ah! Yes! Handsy Fed that treated me like I  was bein’ trafficked! I do remember you. Got some tracking skills, Mister - ?” Alex laughs in recognition, the memory flooding back of the scene she unintentionally caused when some DHS assholes wanted to get a little too hands on with Wesker (and their bags). There was no quicker way to piss Alex off, especially at the end of a long, stressful retrieval mission. She'd been more than a little upset over being heckled by the stupid government after that.

“Butcher. Glad I made an impression.”

 “We are the last people standing at the end of the night. We are the greatest pretenders in the cold morning light. This is just another night, and we've had many of them. To the morning we're cast out, but I know I'll land here again.”

- Bastille, “Get Home”

Alex makes the short flight to Delaware, to meet Butcher in the smallest, most 90s diner she’s ever been in.

He’s already there, sitting in the last booth opposite the door. The diner is long and narrow, like a strip mall bar. There’s a cook barely visible in the little window behind the front counter, and a tired looking waitress straightens up off the table with a sigh, reaches for a menu and passes it to Alex as she passes the table.

“Here ya go, honey. Sit wherever ya like and I’ll be over with coffee.” She instructs, fixing a smile on her face that doesn’t look genuine (but Alex is glad for the attempt to seem happy).

“Thank you. No rush.” Alex takes the laminated menu and continues towards Butcher’s dark shape in the back. Alex notices her heels tapping on the tiles louder than the old TV in the corner, over the counter, playing the news.

‘Good ol’ 24 hour news cycle. Worst thing that ever happened to this country.’

“Good morning,” Alex greets brightly, sinking into the other side of the booth, facing the door, and making eye contact with the former Fed. ‘Well he’s quite handsome. That’s a plus.’

Butcher makes no attempt to hide the way he sizes Alex up as soon as she nears the table. Alex knows right away she’s dealing with a predator like her; there’s a look that comes with that, one that sees more than most would at first glance.

‘That’s okay, I’m eye-ballin’ you too, handsome.’ Alex thinks, casting him a cursory once over before returning to the single page plastic menu. From her peripheral, Alex watches the tired waitress return with a white mug and pot of coffee.

“Need a minute, hon?” The woman asks, causing Alex to look up with a pleasant smile.

“I’m ready actually. I’ll do the steak and eggs, rare, over medium, no toast, and home fries, please.” Alex orders, waiting for the brunette to stop writing on her pad before offering the menu back.

“You hungry? I’m payin.” Alex asks the stoic ex-Fed across from her, noticing he makes no attempt to even acknowledge the waitress.

Butcher’s eyes narrow briefly in Alex’s direction before he answers, still not bothering to look at the waitress.

“Jus’ eggs an’ toast. Scrambled, wheat.” He mutters, voice a gravelly rumble that Alex wouldn’t mind hearing more of.

“You got it. I’ll have that right out for ya.” The waitress chirps, sounding a bit more awake, and seemingly not taking offence to Butcher’s stand-offishness.

They wait for her to leave before Alex speaks again.

“How safe is it to talk here?” She asks, reclining in the booth, stretching her legs under the table, crossing them at the ankles, toes resting on the bottom opposite booth. She reaches up, rubbing her eyes and blinking them clear.

“Safe enough for some specifics. But I’m gonna come righ’ out an’ say it now – this ain’t for tha faint of heart. They all gotta go, an’ if you get in me way, you will, too.” Butcher tells her seriously, jumping right to the meat of the situation, as it were. Alex appreciates that in a client.

Alex’s lips twitch up, eyes half-lidded even as they occasionally shift between the door, the counter, and the man in front of her.

“I appreciate the warning. Do you expect me to get in your way?” Alex asks, playing it diplomatically, she wants to get a read on this man who managed to find her – its not often those outside her very particular circle manage to locate her.

Butcher smiles.

“Ya never expect it, but it happens.” He replies coyly. Alex raises a brow, smile widening the slightest bit.

“I think I understand. As long as you keep me in the loop, you won’t have to worry. I’m still alive because I deliver.”  Alex replies, knowing well what kind of animal she’s dealing with now.

“That’s what I hear.” Butcher replies, the muscles in his face visibly relaxing.

“So hang on, what makes you think I’ll take such a dangerous job with no guarantee of payment?” Alex chuckles, cutting into her steak.

“Ya don’t survive this long doin’ stupid shit like that. Sell it to me.” Alex requests, gesturing vaguely in Butcher’s direction with the piece of steak speared on her fork.

“Aw c’mon, don’t bust me balls, love.” Butcher grumbles around a sheepish smile Alex knows is not genuine.

“Get used to that. C’mon, convince me why I should risk my life for a stranger, taking on what could well be an actual Fool’s errand?” Alex encourages, curious as to what’s up Butcher’s sleeve. She can tell he’s quite calculating and clever, certainly he’s thought of this before reaching out to her.

“Savin’ tha world ain’t enough?” Butcher asks, still smiling, knowingly this time. He’s teasing her.

Alex hums a laugh before popping the piece of steak into her mouth. She chews and swallows before she replies.

“That was very cute, but you wouldn’t have reached out to me if you thought that line would have worked.” Alex replies, unaffected.

Butcher nods and laughs softly.

“You’ve kept a low profile since ‘e died. Condolences, by the way.” Butcher tells her abruptly, still smiling that malicious little smile. Alex knows her mask cracks some at the unexpected mention of Wesker, but she rolls with the punch, no stranger to the mind games people play.

‘I play them better.’

“Thank you,” She replies, voice the slightest bit choked. He knows more than she would like him to.

“I’m askin you because you’re rudderless. Adrift in tha open ocean. Wouldn’t it be nice to ‘ave direction and purpose again? Really shake up tha world, jus’ ta show ya can?” Butcher asks, leaning forward conspiratorially, arms resting on the edge of the table.

Alex tips her head and sets her fork and knife down, regarding Butcher critically. It’s concerning he’s so confident about his read of her.

“Son of a bitch, I’m in. Fuck it.” Alex answers, around a stunned laugh, reaching over the table with her right hand to shake, and Butcher grasps it firmly, pulling her in over the table.

Alex gasps, but catches herself before she lands chest first in breakfast.

“We gotta leave now then, you’re workin with a marked man.” Butcher murmurs around a reckless smirk that makes Alex think she’s found an unexpected comrade.

Her brows shoot up and her expression twists briefly in stunned shock, more over being physically dragged than his actual words.

‘I’m a magnet for troubled men.’

“Woulda worn different shoes, if I knew that.” Alex replies, expression relaxing into a soft kind of annoyance.