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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

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The Runaway (Summer Hideout, Part 1.)

Series description: Ray, otherwise called T-Bone, was a man you were meeting daily during your shifts in your hometown. You were working as a waitress in one bistro near the beach in the summer of 2014, not knowing the man in front of you was one of the biggest whistle-blowers of the history of America.

Part Summary: As Raymond finally escaped Chicago with Aiden’s help, he decided to take a short holiday on the south of the East Coast. Just as he rides into the town, he realizes he’s hungry - meaning he has to find himself a place to eat at.

A/N: Alright, alright. This isn’t a comeback or anything, please don’t get your hopes up; I just had this small series planed for the longest time and since I’m on my Victor Sullivan/Raymond Kenney wave (aka the OG daddies), I wanted to finally put it out. All my exams are ready, so I’m finally ready to go through all the parts and to correct them.

Series master list: H E R E

Raymond Kenney’s playlist: H E R E

Unspecified location, summer of 2014:

When it comes to the life of an outcast, it isn't a way anyone in their right mind would choose deliberately. Living on the run usually doesn't come as a voluntary choice... Well, given the circumstances, there might be a few people out there who are mentally unstable enough to enjoy all the perks and disadvantages this lifestyle comes with. First things first, you sure as hell have to be loaded to afford to pay for all of your livelihood expenses - changing the plates on your cars rather often, paying for all the fake ID (and all cards and documents that come with it), when you have to change the model of your car because cops look at you funny, guns and ammunition and let's not even talk about food, rents or fuel along the way.

Living in the shadows would be tricky enough given the assumption that you're running away from real people or the law anyway. Whole new shenanigans come to play when you're standing against a whole biometric cybernetic AI which is capable of recognizing your features in mere seconds, just from a snap of the camera feed. Fingerprints in the worse case. Having the ultimate knowledge of the ctOS, which was the AI's given name, didn't help Raymond Kenney quite enough. He still had to make sure everything is in check all the time to be able to fall asleep once nighttime came around each day; it was a never-ending cycle of paranoia hanging on the back of Kenney's mind.

If he was to explain ctOS to someone, he'd begin by chuckling dryly and downing at least half a bottle of Tequila. His first words would probably be 'it was a fucking miscalculation, a brutal error costing me everything I once had... Costing everyone their freedom' before talking about the rest. Once upon a time, Ray was a young and naive software engineer hired for the purposes of creating ctOS working for Blume - an underdog at the time of his start in the corporation - didn't seem so bad at first glance. Sure, some strange sketchy details were coming through here and there, but none of it was that bad. But one day Raymond looked at the Bellweather (another rather funny programme encrypted into the system) and got sick in his stomach as he started to realize what did the terabytes of software mean exactly.

Everything Blume created was based around absolute population control - Bellweather acting as an advanced form of behavioural pattern recognition software, ctOS tracking and memorizing each user's history and habits, giving the corporation a window through which it could spy on anyone living in a ctOS regulated city at any moment. It was started by Ray, yes, but it was finished by Tobias Frewer and Angela Balic, former Blume employees. Back then, as stated before, Raymond was very naive and stupid enough to think that rioting and warning about the potential dangers might be a good idea.

All he tried to do was to wake everyone up and highlight the issue of Bellweather being a wall of numbers purposed to figure out people's "numbers" (especially connected to criminal activity) and behavioural predictions, the wall was flowing around each person walking around the city as it constantly kept on profiling, controlling their minds, manipulating the media and also supported consumerism. Even more horrifiedly, that was only some of the things the subliminal software was capable of doing. If there was to be just an itsy-bitsy rummage, malfunction of error inside the intricate system? It would come with disastrous consequences. Once Raymond realized he started something which was way larger and scarier than him, something that couldn't be controlled, he knew he has to do his best to put a stop to all of it. Sure, the man didn't know how was he to achieve that, but he had to try. His main goal was to shut down the entire ctOS along with Bellweather.

Once Blume found out what their own employee, let alone the head of the project, was planning on doing, Kenney was fired immediately. Not only that - during a thorough search through his personal belongings and data discs, they also uncovered all of the dirt Raymond was consistently gathering throughout his years in Blume Corp. This earned him the status of a lunatic, which Blume let played into their hands as they stated this is their reasoning as to why chip Kenney's head with a chip that would warn ctOS if he was ever to come near to any of its oh so precious databases. To worsen the situation, he was also removed from his office by force, yelling warnings about Bellweather while other engineers simply... Watched. The man remained isolated from everyone else; all of his colleagues didn't bat an eye upon hearing Blume accusing Kenney of going insane. This was exactly what they wanted. To defeat Kenney by all means necessary. This was the moment Raymond realized there were even more drastic measures to be taken. It was now or never, he had to act and act quickly.

The desire for revenge overtook Kenney's common sense as he slowly became the madman Blume made him out to be; their arch-nemesis to be precise. With all of his might, the man started to open all of the software backdoors created throughout the years. The ones Blume didn't have any idea about. He got in... After careful trials and errors. Looking back at the whole situation, the plan was badly constructed and hastily put together; he jumped after the first thing which sprang to his mind. He realized what he caused was horrible, of course, but the realization came too late.

Kenney never meant to hurt people, not in the slightest. It wasn't in his consideration that people might actually get killed just because he decided to become a whistleblower. It wasn't supposed to be more than a few handcrafted software malfunctions in the firewall of one of the electric plants. Nothing more than that. What happened next never stopped haunting him. The Northeast blackout of 2003, this was what 'few malfunctions' led to. The entire disaster consisted in billions lost in economic stagnation, it caused families and friends to be separated in absolute darkness, the water to stop flowing and food in supermarkets rotted. It took from hours (in major cities) to days (in secluded areas) to make the electricity run again. It didn't take more than a few bad numbers in the code and more than half of American metropoles and massive territory of Canada's southern provinces were out of order. Eleven people died that day. The public's opinion regarding Kenney's crimes was diverse, as is everything there says. There was a non-negligible portion of people whom he manage to wake up from slumber; those celebrated Kenney as a hero, as a famous and invulnerable whistleblower, a legend among others. Some called him a psychopathic murderer, some a terrorist, some a dead son of a bit and Kenney agreed with all of these people; he was the scum of Earth, and he deserved to be punished as such. Yet none such punishment came, leading Kenney to hide in Pawnee for ten, almost eleven fucking years.

Let's just honestly say Kenney's mental health and stability went down slowly but surely, getting lost amidst all of the isolation and alcohol problems. The man knew his skills and limitations well, he was still as ingenious as when Blume kicked him out... The man simply resigned on life and said fuck it. While in exile, Raymond learned how to get along with locals, making some acquaintances here and there - even those always remained rather lukewarm. He found himself in a small house in Pawnee's collection yard, getting an unlimited access to metal, screws, scraps and various other fun things; in the wake of loneliness, Kenney told himself he could start the career of a destruction artist going by the name T-Bone Grady. After a year of living in isolation, Raymond would swear he's found a con and a positive to living on the outskirts of Chicago.

Undeniable positive was remaining close to the beating heart of Blume Corporation itself - he memorized their chopper schedules, he knew precisely when cars drive in and when they leave, and he was overseeing everything happening in the grid through his various backdoor. The con? Raymond couldn't leave Pawnee under any circumstance; he couldn't physically overstep cadastral boundaries by an inch or ctOS would freak the fuck out and send every disposable force his way. He learned this fact the hard way - this happened both times T-Bone tried to leave that God damned place. The biometric profiler immediately caught on his chip's tracing and didn't let go until Kenney crawled back into his junkyard to rot away once more. Over the ten-year-long stay, Grady became an alcoholic with undeniable paranoia regarding basically everyone and everything with remorse following him each step of the way.

If Raymond was to describe himself, he'd start with naming his favourite brand of brandy, cut to IT and software, talk about all the metal and punk-rock bands he loved to listen to and end with poetic and passionate talk about his career and passion of choice; the art of destruction. His mind resembled a pulsing heart overflowing with knowledge regarding coding, networking and creating all sorts of stuff. Technology was his thing ever since he was a teenager. This was how his destruction statues came to be - and dear it made his heart thump quick when Grady finally see his life's work put to use.

When were his statues put to use, you might ask? It was the year 2013. Raymond was still in hiding, living his ordinary life in Pawnee; that was when two very bright hackers had found him... Sure, only Clara was a real hacker, but Aiden wasn't the worst at it either. They helped him to get out of Pawnee in change for his help in Aiden's case and to these two, he could thank for making his life matter again. Yes, he was still an alcoholic, he still was a paranoid asshole, but he wasn't convicted to live his life in seclusion anymore. When he first got out of the area of Pawnee, after ten years of waiting, it felt incredible - having the whole world on your palm got a new meaning to Raymond; it didn't have to be the whole world as long as he was able to move in 50+ miles radius.

He attempted to leave Chicago twice from that point. Once, it ended up in a complete clusterfuck - the day he was leaving was the day when he received a call from his former co-worker and good friend, Tobias Frewer, who was locked up in the trunk of someone's car. Raymond couldn't just... Let him die, could he? So, no matter how much Kenney was against it, he stayed in the city for a little longer, helping Tobias with the small problem he had. When this whole situation was solved and the dust had settled again, it was time for Raymond to leave again.

When the second attempt came to play, it looked good. Almost too good for his taste - there was not a single fuck-up on his horizon. Aiden promised to look after Frewer as he was slowly getting back on his feet, the Chicago South club seemed to be less active and ctOS was under control. And then, the day when he was set to leave, really came. Raymond programmed a false trail of his biometric data, leading the trail down to Indiana and Tenessee while he planned to leave for Miami for some time. What will come after that? Ray hadn't got an idea, but so far, things were going well.

He was just driving into the state of Florida, taking a three-week lasting pause in a small city near the coast. This city was ctOS-free so far and no-one seemed to recognize him. It was eleven years since the Northeast blackout. No-one remembered his pictures from the TV and news, no police station had him on the search list anymore. There were more pressing matters like mass murders and other shit, which was more important than some dude who was already considered dead.

"It's nice to hear that you're not dead. I almost started to miss your voice." - The man he had on the line joked, making Raymond chuckle as he drove inside the town, looking around. The view on the beach was as magnificent as it could get.

"So far, so good. Riding only in the night, speeding up on empty highways... Uh, that's the life. You'd love it, amigo. The only thing is that my arse is in immersive pain, I need to take a walk already." - Raymond chuckled back, stopping on a small parking lot by the beach, watching the sun setting from his seat. He had to leave the car there for some fixer to pick it up - he had another one ordered to be delivered to this place three weeks precisely from that moment. This car app, to which Raymond got introduced through Aiden, was pretty handy. The plates were untrackable, false, showing out different car plates in different states. All hail to the ctOS, right?

"You will get some time to go on a walk, trust me. I paid you a little vacation, so, go ahead and enjoy it." - Aiden grunted, which made Kenney chuckle as well. - "You paid me a vacation or did the money from Quinn paid it, huh? I see through your bullshit, amigo." - Kenney told his friend while taking his belongings out of the car, picking up the phone as well, putting Aiden on his ear. - "You got me, T-Bone. Just keep it low, I don't wanna make a trip to Miami to save your damn ass." - With that, they chit-chated about all the bullshit going down in Chicago, but after that, it was time to say goodbye.

"Call me when you dig up your little hole in Miami. Adios, amigo." - Aiden told Ray in the end, finally ending the call. This made Raymond chuckle as his phone received a text, giving him the address of the place of his current stay. Raymond now had all the time in the world - and given he was hungry like a small bitch and that he only had two bags and one utility leather bag on him, he decided to have a quick dinner somewhere.

Kenney was known as a steak lover with everything he got. This man would never say no to a piece of meat thrown on the table in front of him. Yet throughout his stay with Tobias, he discovered that not all fast-food chains or bistros selling exclusively pre-prepared food weren't that bad wither. And realizing it was already eleven p.m., Raymond didn't have too many choices available. What he was left with was a bistro by the beach. On the other side of the coast, there was a pier where some party was going on, but overall, the city was nicely quiet.

There weren't many cars riding by, meaning there weren't many people who would be looking at him, so there wasn't any real danger. Lazily, stretching his back, Ray walked to the bistro, stopping for a while so he could watch the ocean waves lazily tolling up as the moon shone on the town. Because the town was smaller, there wasn't much light pollution covering the night sky. Kenney sighed and thought about Chicago again. That city's sky was always yellow. Pawnee didn't have that much pollution because it was set aside from the main city, but this was a brand new league.

He would never consider himself a person who would like to watch the stars. On the other hand, he wasn't getting any younger, so maybe he should think about finding new hobbies. Ones like fishing, with dynamite, or maybe something calmer... Like astronomy. He wouldn't be able to make his sculptures and statues until the end of his days, so he probably should start thinking about all of that.

After this small life reconsideration, he finally walked to the door and pushed them, waking into an empty bistro.

Your POV:

You wouldn't say that you hated your job or anything, but you did hate it. Especially on nights like these. The air was humid and heavy, having you trying to make the broken AC work solely by staring angrily off to the distance while playing with toothpicks in your palm. Also, to top it all up, Crissy Carpenter had just wedded to some other random dude from your city and their families had a huge party on the pier, so you were listening to drunkard singing for two hours at that point. The only plus this whole situation had was probably the fact that it was eleven p.m., meaning your shift was ending in an hour - the beach was empty and no-one will come in.

On the other hand, you loved the job you had. Especially when the tourist season had started and people were searching for a secluded area - your town was small, so they were given enough privacy. The tourists were cool as hell, funny even, willing to leave a pretty good tip behind. Plus, in case anyone rich would like to have a vacation there, a huge resort was built in proximity to your home recently. There were huge bungalows, a private beach full of luxurious stuff. Or so you heard. You also heard that they clean the bungalows every day, that the cleaning ladies change the sheets and towels every single day, and that they had even hired a few people who were bringing champagne and dinner by choice every night. Fucking rich assholes, huh?

While you were working your ass off in a badly paid job where only the tips were making your life more enjoyable, there were fuckers who could afford to pay horrendous money for a one-night stand at the resort. And what about you, huh? You were standing in a super-hot bistro and even if all of the windows were opened wide, you were sweating like a hooker in a church. College didn't work out for you, since it was behind your financial limits. So you started to work in the bistro and started to save money for your future college studies.

A glance over your wrist told you that you had only 45 minutes remaining. Slowly, you set off the counter, walking across the place to clean up the messy tables and to carry away the salt and pepper thingies, as you called them. And when you heard the fucking doorbell behind your back, you cursed under your breath so the customer wouldn't hear it. Who was going for these nasty fries and burgers at such a time anyway? Nonetheless, you let the tables be and took your notepad. It was only you in the building at that unholy hour and you could remember the order, but you were used to writing everything down.

With that, you set on a walk around the interior to stealthily check out the incoming person in case they'd be looking suspicious. A glance over your shoulder told you that it was a dude. He wasn't young, but he wasn't old either. It was quite hard to tell how old he was with all the hip indie clothes, all of these bad boys were patched, and it was even harder to determine his age with the dreads he had on. The man could be anywhere in the range from the thirties to sixties for all you cared.

The thing you've stopped at were his two large sports bags, each one hanging over his shoulder. Could he be carrying someone's body in it? You couldn't tell by the odor since the air was already horrendous when he walked in. And by the color of his skin, he wasn't a local. He wasn't a local since you knew everyone in the fucking town. On top of that, the guy was as pale as a sheet of paper, having a small to zero amount of tan on his body. If you'd tried enough, you would see through him. Was he a ghost, perhaps? At that, you furrowed. You had to stop with all of these insane thoughts. It was occurring because of the late hours; your brain was tired, less attentive, and let's be honest, straightaway paranoid. With all the crazy news you've seen in the news, how could you know if the guy's cool? Again, you tried to calm down and put on your best smile before walking in front of his table.

"Welcome to Larry's bistro. What would you like to order?" - You asked with a sweet smile, running the stranger down with your eyes with undying suspicion. The man looked at you with confusion, not really knowing why were you at the table already. He just sat down. For fuck's sake, he didn't even have the time to open up the menu. - "A while to look around, thank you?" - The old-timer answered carefully, telling you to 'fuck off' in a nice way. Humming quietly, you walked back to the cash register. With a dry mouth, you were running your eyes all over the interior as you played with a ballpoint pen, clicking it faster and faster.

Was he looking around for good spots to kill you at? Was he looking for cameras? What the fuck was he doing? What you didn't know was that Raymond was just reading the damn menu.

"It's weird for someone to come in so late, ain't it?" - He said suddenly, glancing at you from the piece of paper sealed in plastic. The man watched your eyebrows arching and eyes closing a bit with arising suspicion. You've heard as Guns'n'Roses started to play at the pier, knowing nobody would hear you scream now as the drunk wedding guests sang the words of Paradise City so loud that you could hear all of them clearly.

"That's the first thing that a killer would say." "I'm not a murderer, young lady." "That's the second thing a killer would say." - You breathed out, your eyes were now locked on the man as you slowly grasped your phone.

"I'll have this... Damn, Three-combo burger, whatever it is, some fries, a can of somethin' like Coca Cola and an iced latte... If you'd be so kind, of course." - The possible-serial-killer-man put the menu back on the table, smiling at you warmly. Without hesitation, you nodded and wrote the order down, walking into the kitchen to prepare everything he asked for. After a moment, when the beef was slowly frying on the stove, you brought the man the first part of his order. The iced latte. - "Jesus, I'm sweating like crazy. You have somethin' like AC in here?" - The man asked calmly, taking the iced coffee from you.

"Yea, we do, but that piece of crap doesn't work since last summer." - That was a weird question to ask. Like, sure, the place was hot as hell, but why did he need to know? Was he figuring out how to drain the stench out of the bistro once he slices your throat? Dear Lord, you stopped yourself again. Stop being so paranoid. It's just a tourist who came into town, who was also hungry, and who bumped into your workplace. There wasn't anything like murder happening.

"So, what would you say if you'd cook the food and I'd look at the AC system? I'm... You can say that I'm an electrician of sorts." - With that, your eyes widened before you could stop yourself. What the fuck? The man, seeing he threw you off the rails with that question, threw his palms in front of him, worried that he had scared you more than you were before. "Let's start again, alright? I'm T-Bone and I am from Chicago." - He stood up and offered you his palm. Carefully, you went for it, shaking it. - "I'm Y/N." - That was all you told him before you stepped away. At that moment, T-Bone turned around and took out his leather bag, showing you what he had inside.

And Lord behold... All of it looked like IT or electrician utilities of sorts. Wow. Having the AC repaired was something your boss wasn't able to do, since it was too expensive in his opinion, so having the system working again, would be simply magical. - "If you wanna have a look, go ahead, dig through all of this. I really don't wanna kill you." - "That's the third thing a killer would say." - You mumbled again, but this time, it was taken as a joke which made T snicker. - "Lead the way, then. I'll take a look at your problem." - The man asked you, throwing the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

"I don't know if I should do that, T-Bone... Not that I would still believe you're a psycho or anything, it's just a personnel-only area, you know?" - You sighed and wiped the light sweat off your forehead. "If you wanna cook yourself in here, I won't be holding you back." - T-Bone answered and put the bag back on the table, going for a sip of the fizzy drink he ordered. In the end, you sighed and walked towards the area, opening it for the stranger.

"Just... Don't steal anything, don't destroy the thingies we have here, I beg you, and no - I won't let you squat here." - You sighed and flickered the lights on. Damn, the maintenance room was a sauna on its own. Even T felt the sudden change of the air. The air smelled oily and was humid as fuck, he could barely breathe inside the room. But after he looked around, he started to work his way around the room and the utter chaos in it. "Do you have some normal music in here by any chance? I don't think I can listen to these people singing for much longer." - T-Bone asked you once he kneeled to go through his bag, searching for something. - "Depends on what you think is 'normal' music."

"I don't know... Nirvana, Ministry, The Vindictives, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkin Park, I don't care. Anything that will be louder than them." - He said with a chuckle, smiling at you, and took out some screwdrivers, looking around the room again to be sure he knows what he's doing. Before you walked back to the kitchen, you played Can't Stop by the Red Hot for him, knowing this song is probably one of those which everyone loves in their own way.

T-Bone was indeed working in the maintenance room, which could be heard by him opening the old rusty boxes, throwing the aluminum plates on the ground, and occasional curse words coming out the room while Red Hot played through the bistro. You did your best to mostly stick to the kitchen, trying to make the Three-combo burger the best you were capable of. You even put some extra mayonnaise, cheese, and bacon into that monster just because the man was so kind and looked into the long-broken AC. For which you were more than grateful. It was little over half an hour since the moment you left him in the maintenance. As you were just bringing the food to his table, you felt on your skin that the air felt... Cooler. That crazy son of a bitch did it. He repaired the AC singlehandedly.

"How did you..." - You asked silently when you walked to the room to tell the man his food was ready. "I told you that I'm an electrician and not a killer. You were the one who didn't believe me." - And with that, a joke left your lips. It was so straight to the point that it made even T-Bone himself turn his head at you, looking at you for the first time in the whole evening.

"Well, that kinda sounds like something straight outta porn." - Your chuckle filled the room, having the sweaty man stopping at the remark, staring at you with his watery blue eyes. Noticeably, he was rather confused. As you realized what you just said, you closed your eyes firmly and licked your lips, taking in a long breath. Fuck, you shouldn't let jokes slide past your lips in front of customers, should you? There was this thing about you - you were a friendly person most of the time and you liked to joke around with the people you were talking to. Whether it were customers, your boss, or your friends, you were just joking around. But most of the time, the jokes went outta hand pretty fast. Like at that moment. Sexual innuendos? Your fucking home base. But joking with a customer, let alone a stranger who still could turn out to be a killer, about porn, that was really outta hand. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry. I mean... Your food is ready." - You mumbled embarrassedly, leaving the room.

But there was this funny thing Ray knew about himself you didn't have an idea about. Younger women, just like yourself, were right up his alley. He was penchant to be attracted to them. Sure, he was perfectly capable of falling in love with someone his age... But that wasn't as fun. He couldn't name or point at what it was, but young ladies, uh, boy, he had a thing for them. And when they had a wicked sense of humor, Raymond knew he can sign himself as attracted. Clara was a pretty nice young girl, that needed to be said, but there was some noise going on between her and Aiden, and that was why he ignored his instincts in the first place back in Chicago. Yet... This wasn't Chicago anymore, was it? He could allow himself to flirt around a bit, he was allowed to have a bit of fun.

He followed you to the customer's area and heard you locked the door behind him again. "I have to disappoint you." - T-Bone said dramatically, sitting down as he looked at the beautiful thing you've created in the kitchen. You weren't the one who was cooking most of the time, but this burger was looking good. - "I don't have my HD camera on me today, so we have to plan the porn thing for another day." - The man heard himself saying, and just like you before, he couldn't stop himself from saying it out loud. As you heard a continuation to your joke, you looked back at him, an amusing grin slowly lighting up your face.

The man stayed until the end of your shift - he even helped you with cleaning the bistro. You, on the other hand, paid his bill from your tips, because you were very much grateful for the working AC. And as he was leaving when you were about to change into your normal clothes and lock the place, you wondered if you've seen the last of the mysterious customer.

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