2007-08-02: Never Tell


Eric_icon.gif DFTrina_icon.gif

Summary: Insomnia and tune-ups always go so well.

Dark Future Date: August 2, 2009

Never Tell

Dark Future - WCH - Packing Room

Weichsel House is an old-fashioned operation based out of one enormous room separated into sections by thick, opaque plastic curtains. One entire wall is dedicated to walk-in coolers and freezers. There are row after row of meathooks mounted on automated conveyors in the high ceiling, powered saws of all imaginable sizes and descriptions, and steel tables laid out with many hand-sized implements. Much of the equipment is still covered with dried blood. It looks as if the crew dropped what they were doing in the middle of a workday, walked out, and never came back. All that's missing is the meat. A creaky, shallow staircase at one side of the room leads up to a large, enclosed loft with a stout door and heavily shuttered windows.

It's late, but Trina can't find it in herself to go to bed. There's too much to do. Too much to think about. Maybe that is why she is currently bent over, leaned entirely under the hood of the car so that only her lower half, clad in tattered jeans and black boots, is visible. In her hand, a ratchet is currently tightening a bolt. It's soothing, this. Making the cars work. In an engine, the world makes sense. If you do something wrong or abuse it, you pay the price. But you can fix it. You can make it better. If you take care of an engine and maintain it, it won't fail you. Won't betray you.

And they sure as hell won't ever lie to you. Try to kill you. Separate children from their parents.

Engines make sense.

"Knock knock,"

The voice echoes through the dark of the interior of the building, a familiar voice. Eric's voice. The young man stepping out of a doorway of a ruined building. A slightly lopsided smile on his face as he leans against a door frame and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asks, though this time he tries very hard not to scare Trina this time.

This time, the voice is more expected. Thus, Eric is spared the sight of her being startled. Instead, she just straightens, runs her grease covered hands down the loose-fitting black tee-shirt she has on before wringing the shirt around her fingertips, and then smiles. It's a weary looking thing, but is well-matched by her reddened blue eyes and the dark rings starting to form beneath them. She wants to sleep. Curl up and just make the world get sucked down into the void of slumber for a few hours. That ain't happenin', though. "Shouldn't really be sleepin' anyway. Tomorrow's a big day, and the babies aren't ready yet."

"…I think that it would be the best time to sleep, actually," Eric replies with a raised eyebrow. He shrugs slightly though as he steps out, still dressed in the denim jeans. He looks tired, in fact he looks almost exhausted. He can smile, though, easily towards her. "…though yeah…it could be bad if your babies gave out in the middle of things tomorrow."

Everybody's so tired. The fatigue on Eric's face is enough to send Trina back into the hood of the car. It's easier to ignore when she doesn't have to be looking at it. "That's why they're not gonna," she offers determinedly. "Ain't had one of 'em cut out yet, and I ain't about to start." In the dim glow from the hood light, the young woman again plunges in the ratchet only to come out a moment later. "Hey. Since you're here, do me a favor?" Her hands dig down into her pants pocket, extracting a set of keys. Those keys are then tossed in Eric's direction. "Turn her over and push the white button on the steering wheel." Then there is a look of dire seriousness that paints itself across her face as she specifies something very important: "*Just once.*"

Well, Eric has other reasons to be tired, but he'll keep those nice and hidden from everyone that matters. At least until he collapses in the middle of something important. He steps forwards though and catches the tossed keys. "…a white button instead of a red one?" He asks with a laugh as he pulls the door open and hops into the cab. He does indeed though, turns the car over and waits a moment before looking around. "White button, right?" He asks, and then he does indeed press it.


As the engine roars to life, Trina shuts her blue eyes. The small smile on her face as she gets a gust from the belts kicking in only lasts a few moments, black hair dancing on the engine wind. Why? Because Eric pushed the button. There's a whirr, even above the roar of the motor, and things start churning and clicking in behind. She rubs at her eyes with her forearm, and then smiles. Why? Because there now happens to be the lengthy shaft of, not one, but three rocket launchers pushing out of the truck from their secret stow spot in the truck bed. Trina watches them unfold with a small frown of concentration, and then nods once and pats the side of the car a couple times soundly. "Alright, sugar. That'll do it. Just turn the truck off." Two down, one more to go. Leaning down, she gives the truck a kiss on its primer gray side. "Thatta girl," she whispers fondly.

He just blinks a moment before Eric laughs and shakes his head. "Trina, you are amazing," He says with a nod of his head as he glances back over his shoulder and grinning at the launch tubes that now stick up out of the bed of the truck. "…I suppose I won't have to bring anything but small arms then eh?" He asks with a smirk coming to his face. A slight shake of his head before he turns the key off, killing the engine. "…so…have you ever thought about working on something else. Like my Ferrari, or the Porche?" He asks with a grin. "…I think they might need more weapons."

"Ain't amazin'. S'just necessary." That compliment efficiently dodged, Trina continues to watch as the launchers proceed to fold themselves away once more once the power's cut off. Their neat tucking warrants a satisfied nod on her part, and she is seemingly pleased as the panel covers slide back into place. Again, the truck looks like just a pieced together hunk of junk. Dropping the hood back into place with a loud slam of steel, Trina starts rapidly packing up her tools just enough to be able to move on to the next assignment.

"Tell you what. We make it back tomorrow and get moved into that place you done up? I'll work on whatever the Hell you want." The next up is an older van, but she's got her secrets, too. Trina doesn't immediately start working on it, though. She just sort of stares at it, and then puts down her box. She may not be able to sleep, but she's tired and slowing down. "I ain't seen Jack that giddy in a long time. I owe you."

"…that's what they all say," Eric replies with a smirk as he slides out of the cab and slams the door. Handing the keys back towards Trina though he looks over towards the next thing, the van. A raised eyebrow before he shakes his head. "…how many do you plan on putting on that one?" He asks curiously as he leans against the side of the truck.

"…tell you what, I'll take you up on that when we all get back from getting Elena back." He says with complete and utter confidence and a smile. "…and when we all get moved into the new place. Since Jack agreed on it all." Then a grin. "…and the toy I left him. I have one more toy for him, too…but I'll leave that till tomorrow."

"She's got four already. That's enough." Trina's hands stretch out at that, gently running along the line of the hood with her faded blue paint as though caressing the fine muscles of a horse. "This old girl just needs to have her struts checked and get loaded up. She's sturdy as they come, but the reinforcin' rides hard on her sometimes." There's a pause, and then the mechanic tilts her head so she can look over her shoulder towards the pretty, rich boy. "S'alright, you know," she offers quietly. "Y'don't gotta make the brave sounds for me."

"Ah, yeah that does seem like it would be enough…" Eric blinks slightly. What is that. Seven total. Plus more. Oh me oh wow. What the hell are they gonna need them all for. "…Elena is going to have a hell of a fireworks show isn't she?" He adds with a smile across his face. A shake of his head then before he laughs. "…brave sounds? Well, I suppose I was making brave sounds. Maybe they're just to convince me." He says with a wink. He still looks exhausted, but he manages a smile.

She's not putting off muscle work. Really. She's just… not diving into it immediately. "The coordinates tomorrow ain't real reassuring, so let's cut to the chase." Trina's frown reappears, cutting into her cheeks with a somber familiarity. "F'Somethin' happens tomorrow, Eric, you'll make sure someone keeps an eye on Jack, yeah? Just… to check in now and again. Our people are stretched so thin, all of 'em, but… I'd feel better if I knew."

He pauses a moment before he sighs and shakes his head. "Trina… If Jack heard you talking like that, he would get very upset," Eric murmurs before he shakes his head. His hands are thrust into his pockets and he smiles easily towards Trina. The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, though. "…I'll look after Jack, just like I'd look after the rest of you. However…" He walks over and puts his hand on Trina's shoulder. "…I won't have to. We are all coming back Trina. You'll see." He pauses a moment before he looks back towards her, his hand sliding off her shoulder. "We are Saints, Trina, you should know that no matter what we'll all look after each other."

"Jack ain't gonna hear me talkin' like that," Trina replies simply. Matter of factly. Bordering on snappishly. She knows better than that. Her blue eyes grow defiant at the chastisement; she's tired and overworked and irritable. "And he better never find out I ever did." Capisce? Grabbing her toolbox and her flashlight with a sharp yank, the slender woman hauls the heavy, rusting steel monstrosity over to the first tire, roughly sets it down, and then slides underneath to start her inspection work. "Just remember," she calls out from the darkness beneath, her voice echoing against its steel underbelly. "You promised."

"No, he won't," Eric replies with a nod towards her. She's tired and overworked and irritable. Eric has dealt with so much worse than that. He sighs though as she grumbles and drags her things over. "…you know I won't tell anyone, Trina." He adds with a sigh, drawing his hand over his face a moment. For a moment he just looks tired, almost pained. "…I remember, Trina. I'll always remember." He murmurs before he shakes his head and the look vanishes easily enough. "…I'll see you around. Like you said. It's a big day tomorrow." He adds.

Then, his hands slide into his pockets again as he smiles wearily towards her. "…take care of yourself." Then a flash of darkness swallows up the young rich boy, and when it vanishes he's not there anymore.

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