2007-08-18: DF: Baby You Can Drive My Car


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Proving that one can never have a finger in too many pies, Molly visits Jack to offer him a deal.

August 18th, 2009:

Baby You Can Drive My Car


Gotta be alone. No more people. Going crazy. Gotta find a way to get away.

In search of some time and space to sort out the issue that is having your best friend turned into your worst enemy and then back to your best friend, Jack has hidden himself away in the garage. Julia's hood, trunk, and all four doors have been popped open to make room as he scurries to and fro, loading large cartidges and belts of ammo, replacing mounted weapons, and changing out battered armor panels. His face is a mess of half-healed cuts and greenish-yellow bruises, and he moves with an extra hitch in his step that has nothing to do with his war wounds.

Unfortunately for poor Jack Derex, he's not going to be alone for very long. When the girl who can find anyone in the world wants to see you, well, it's hard to stay hidden. In fact, it's near impossible. Though she doesn't have the ability to turn invisible or dampen the noise of her steps, she knows where exactly Jack is at any given moment, so she only moves when she know she's not turned toward her. Finally, she hops up into the driver's side seat, the door already pulled open as if just for her. "You look like a train wreck, Uncle Jack," she says sweetly, legs kicking out, not touching the ground. "But, then, I don't have to ask what you've been up to."

Spend enough time with automatic weapons and grenades going off next to your head and your hearing is bound to suffer. Once upon a time, a ninja master couldn't have gotten this close without spooking Jack. It doesn't help that he's sitting in the passenger's seat with his head between his knees and a screwdriver clamped between his teeth. Startled, he sits upright fast and catches his head on the bottom of the glovebox. "Mmmph. /Nng/," he mutters emphatically, then spits the screwdriver into his hand with a resounding PTOOH! "Jesus!" He flails about impotently with the nitrous line he was about to replace in his other hand. "Bloody hell, it's the concrete girl. How did you… What the fu—Uncle Jack?" Groan.

Seeing Jack smash his head on the bottom of the glovebox makes Molly giggle. Oh yes, she likes that. She loves startling people, keeping them on their toes. It's what gives her a rush. "Oh, yes, I knew you were going to be fun. Your face was probably the best thing I've seen in a month. So surprised. Almost as good as when I shot the president. He never even saw it coming." That might explain that scar on his shoulder, by the way. "You said I could call you Uncle Jack. You're not going back on your /word/ now are you? That would be very un-Saintly."

To his credit, Jack is quick to regain his composure. He sets down his screwdriver and bit of tubing between them on the bench seat and scrubs his gloved hands over his battered face. When he finishes he's wearing a crooked smile. After all, this little girl might be creepy, but she's cute. Plus, she can handle a gun like nobody's biz. That gives them three things in common. "Nah. Just surprised me, is all. You got me good with the ol' rock-in-a-sack trick, kiddo. I'll not be forgettin' that. How the hell did you find this place, anyway?"

That does give him a little something in Molly's book. She's used to unnerving people - it's what she does best. Of course, there's a reason she does what she does. Most of the time. Not that there's a /sane/ reason behind it all, but there's a reason. "You led me right to it." Not by anything he did, of course, just by being himself. "Oh, don't worry, what you were looking for is in very safe, grateful hands. They paid quite a bit for it. It'd be gone for days before you showed up. You certainly did not disappoint me, though. You live up to your reputation. You're just as reckless and easy to push around as they say you are." There's no hint of insult in her voice. It's still the same sweet, innocent little girl's one that she's been talking with this whole time.

Jack's eyes narrow, a sure sign of his displeasure. There's a barely audible grinding noise from his teeth as he jaw muscles flex several times. The look he sends Molly's way is Patently Unamused. Time for a new tactic. "What do you want, kid? You've already jerked me around once. Don't think that sweet lil' smile will be enough to keep me from puttin' you over my knee like you wuz my own pain in the ass kid." His eyes go wide again and he quickly, raspily clarifies. He even punctuates the statement by forming the sign of the cross. "The kid I don't have."

"Oh, but you don't have kids, Uncle Jack." Molly's been watching him for long enough that she knows quite a few things about him. It's why her power is so very very useful. Propping her chin up on her knees, she just keeps smiling that sweet, innocent smile. "Ooh, such anger. Such promises. I'm sure that whatever it is you can think of to do to me is nothing compared to what has already been done. I've been through so much. So many people think they can hurt me. Or save me. But we know better, you and I. Some people just can't be saved. Some people, they like the way they are." Lounging back in the driver's seat, she playful tugs at the wheel, like little kids will do. "You see, I've come to make you an offer. You can refuse it if you want, but that would be pretty stupid, if you ask me."


That one word says it all. Jack is once again perplexed by this tiny, impish, terrifying little creature. That's right. Terrifying. He can't put his finger on why. Maybe something to do with the fact that she waltzed through a radiation zone, snuck up on him, and now has come precariously close to threatening his life. And she doesn't even have boobs yet.

Jack shifts in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest uncomfortably. "'Course I don't have kids. Just told you that. Whaddayou want, girl? I feel for whatever you've been through, but you're creepin' the bejeesus outta me."

It may say it all, but Molly doesn't really take it at face value. "You heard what I said. Don't pretend like you didn't. You're smarter than that." Pretending as if the car is taking a sharp right hand turn, she jerks the wheel in that direction. "You don't feel for what I've been through. You couldn't begin to even guess." That's not her bragging, that's her stating a fact. "I'm telling you. I'm offering you a once in a lifetime bargain. My services for…well, let's see. What could I ask of you that would actually mean something?" Hm. Now /that's/ a tough call. "We've already gone over the no family boundaries. We /could/ just do the favors to be turned in later, but I like to be much more imaginative than that. What would you say? I'd like your car. I can't actually drive yet, but I'm sure I could learn." She honks the horn with an impish grin on her face. Beep beep.

"AHHHH." Again, Jack flaps and flails his hands in the air. Combined with the squawk, it's a painfully chickenlike gesture. "Jesus-God-Balls-And-Motherfuckers! No! Not just no, but RAAAAAHHHH NO!" He slaps both hands against his face like McCauley Caulkin. "Kid, you are bent. Get outta the car!"

That's not /exactly/ the response that Molly was looking for. Of course she went for something that was precious to him. Because the offer she's about to give him is a one-time only sort of thing. "Ah, see, I can tell you don't know who I am. Most of the time I need no introduction." Pulling her legs up so that she's actually crouching on the driver's seat, she rests her arms on her knees and gives a superior smirk that is well beyond her years. "The Company's old Walker System? That's me. Only now, I'm freelance."

"What? You're the Walker Trackin' Doohickey? Sonofabitch!" Cursing and swearing like a broke sailor in a whorehouse, Jack pounds on Julia's dash over and over again. "This sucks. This sucks!"

Think about it. The Saints' most secure sanctuary has been compromised. During a worst case scenario, they always had the option of falling back to Weichsel House. It would take an act of God to track them here. Or a little girl. Suddenly, his survival and that of many other hinges on keeping this girl from leaving one way or another. The President is caged in the next room, for God's sake. Briefly, longingly, Jack ponders his alternatives. Few. He could kill her, theoretically, but not even he's that cracked. He huffs out a ragged sigh and nods, hovering on the verge of tears.

"Fine. She's yours."

/There/ we go. That's more of the proper respect for her abilities. Molly grins and doesn't move from her crouching position, the smirk remaining on her face. "Sucks? Sweetheart, you've just made the deal of a lifetime." He could kill her, it's true. She's been threatened with that and worse. But, that makes it sound like she would be /easy/ to kill. With what she's been through, it's like trying to kill a cockroach. She's ready for just about anything that could be thrown at her as she's had to suffer through worse than most people can imagine. Grinning excitedly, she jumps down so that she bounces on the driver's seat. Her toes just barely touch the pedals. "I knew you'd make the right decision. I think my first course of action is to make her pink. I could never say no to pink."

A thick, strangled moan builds somewhere in the back of Jack's throat and crawls out of his mouth. He tugs at his collar, exposing some of his heavily scarred neck. His face pinches up into a horrified grimace, like someone in the middle of getting stitches or taking a particularly painful dump. "Oh God. Oh my God." Great faith is the product of great fights. Great testimonies are the outcome of great tests. Great triumphs come only out of great trials. Now, Jack clasps his hands in his lap and solemnly starts to pray, improvising and paraphrasing from Psalms. "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Your presence, and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me for this fucked up thing that I have done. And please don't let it be pink."

"Yes, /pink/," Molly affirms for Jack. There's no way he can escape it now that he's shown how much he disapproves. "And a cute stuffed dog hanging right from the rear view mirror." Draping her arms on the steering wheel, she rests her temple against it so that she's still facing Jack. There's no chance she wants to miss any moment of his torture. "The Holy Spirit's got nothing to do with it." Beaming, she burrows her head a little, but still not enough that her eyes are hidden. "Don't look so sad, Uncle. You've just bought yourself a way to find anyone in the world. Whenever you want. As long as you've got a picture of them."

"Okay, okay. Jesus. Just… Stop talking for a second." Jack presses a hand to either side of his head and pushes inward. Splitting headach. Very sudden. Must keep brain from falling out. "You're evil," he whines petulantly. "Evil and mean and I don't like you anymore. What did I ever do you you? No. Don't answer. Just shhhhh. Shush now." With trembling fingers, he pulls Julia's keys from his shirt pocket and hands them to the little girl. The boobless little girl that just extorted the shit out of him. "Nnnngg."

Molly giggles. A cute little girl's giggle, despite all the mean and decidedly insane things that otherwise seem to come out of her mouth. "You're getting it now." Just because she's fourteen and looks innocent doesn't mean that she is. In fact, she's the farthest thing from. Remembering Jack's ability, she doesn't waste any time to take the keys from him. It's a deal, though, so he's got to keep his word. "Deal. You've just bought a share of the Walker System. Thank you for your donation. Now. How do I turn it on?"

"Oh God. Oh dear God, please bless this old Irish fool and see him safely through the night." Jack crosses himself again, then snaps his fingers and relocates his garage door opener from a toolbench on the other side of the room. He thumbs the button that opens the bay doors. As they rattle upward, weak rays of sunlight streak into the garage. "Shit! Whatever you do, don't touch any of the buttons. In fact…" He scoops up his nearly-forgotten screwdriver and wedges the flathead behind the converted stereo panel that controls the armaments. He tears it free from it's moorings with a vicious wrench of his arm, leaving a tangled, frayed mass of exposed wires behind. "There. Uh. The big key. Use the big key."

Frowning at what Jack has down tot he panel of her new car, Molly hmfs. And does what she's told. The big key is inserted into the ignition and turned. First the wrong way, which makes an angry Julia sound. And then, she gets the picture and turns it the right way. Julia purrs to life with a satisfying sound. Giddy, Molly claps her hands. "Oh, this is wonderful." She's already two years too young to have a license, but she doesn't seem to care. "How do I make it go?"

The grinding gears and unhappy starter are a cringeworthy sound. "Make it go?" Jack queries hollowly. His hands clutch spasmodically against his thighs for several seconds. Then, wisely, he clips on his seat belt and clings to it instead. "Jesus, this is gonna be a long night," he whines.


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