"Up & Apart": PG; (2.0/Legacy); S. Flynn & J. Bradley Part 2/3

[allronix1.livejournal.com]

Title: “Up and Apart”
Rating: PG (language)
Author: Allronix
Characters: S. Flynn and J. Bradley

Summary: Even the closest of brothers grow up...and sometimes grow apart.



Disclaimer: Monolith Games and Buena Vista Interactive came up with Jet, Disney proper owns the rest.



Note: This is an attempt to do a canon mash-up between 2.0 and Legacy, so I've had to fudge some details in regards to the fate of Lora Baines-Bradley. This also postulates that 2.0 and Legacy both happen in 2010.

 

“Jet, quit daydreaming. Can you access the workstation in cube 9143?”

 

“9143?” Kolowski's desk. Guy had been working for Encom since 1995, crawled his way to middle management, and was as clueless as it got. He was the kind of money-focused, business-school cliche that upper management loved, but would never be dumb enough to promote higher. “Sure thing. Three cheers for picking that one.”

 

As the remote access protocol brought up the login for Sam, Jet let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. In the movies and TV shows, the “voice with an Internet connection” worked out of an unmarked van somewhere in the parking garage, not sitting in a smoker's shed with a laptop and smartphone, both loaded with a ton of home-brew hacking apps. It reeks of stale cigarettes and rotting lunches in here. Their bikes are parked down the street, all the better not to be obvious, but it will make quick escape a real pain.

 

“I'm trying to brute-force my way into the server. Little help here?”

 

“Working it,” The algorithm was like a slot machine, twisting through the encryption like a paperclip sliding tumblers in an old lock. “We're good.”

 

“Uploading. You wanna know what it is?”

 

“Less I know the better. I'll find out when everyone else does.”

 

He can almost see Sam's disappointment. “Jet...”

 

Jet's already feeling antsy. He really shouldn't be doing this, but Sam is the one guy in the universe who fundamentally gets it. They're both walking in their fathers' shadows, recreating a drama that played out well before they were born. They both have this love-hate relationship with Encom and all it gives and takes. No matter how much they try to pull away, the legacies and the company pull them back.

 

Jet adjusts his glasses and dares to look up. Shit – security guard by the door. Quickly, he slams the laptop closed, and crouches deeper in the shed, beneath the ugly green metal panel. He sucks in his breath and hopes he wasn't spotted. When he dares to look up, the slightly paunchy guard has pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

 

Oh, great. The guard turns and Jet knows it's his only shot. Taking a deep breath, he mentally calculates the distance to the dumpster. Sam's squawking into his earpiece, but Jet's focused on the guard.

 

It took many teenaged nights of crawling out windows and crashing concerts to figure out the proper way to sneak. The trick is to wear soft-soled shoes and move as slowly as you dare. Duck, deep breath...Go!

 

By the time the guard turns around, pack and lighter in hand, Jet is already behind the dumpster.

 

“Bradley, where the fuck are you?!”

 

“Shh!” Jet whispers.

 

The guard strolls into the shack and puffs away. The second part to sneaking around is to wait for the right moment. All the tricks to minimize noise aren't any good if they're looking your direction. As long as the guard doesn't look directly at the dumpster, Jet is okay.

 

From here, he could see who it is - Amos Washington, the guy who usually worked the late shift, came out of the Gulf War with nerve damage, and spent years sick. Now, he was working Encom at night to try and pay his bills while arguing with the VA all day. Thorne treated him like an afterthought because the night shift wasn't considered important.

 

Jet feels his gut twist. Amos wasn't a friend, but he wasn't anyone Jet wanted to cause trouble, either. Even if he and Sam got away with this, would Thorne fire Amos as retaliation?

 

After Amos finishes his cigarette, he stretches and walks back in the building. Jet puffs out a breath. That was way too close. Before he worked here, he could hang around with a laptop and not get recognized. Now that people saw him around Encom's campus and knew who he was...

 

This whole stunt? Phenomenally bad idea.

 

He has the mental image of his father staring at him over his spectacles, and the words “Jethro Eugene Bradley, I'm very disappointed...” When it comes to his dad, “disappointed” covers a lot of things other people use four-letter bombs to express. And as much conflict he has about walking in his father's shadow, Jet doesn't want to hurt him.

 

With a sigh, he sinks down to sit on the ground. “Sam, you live?”

 

“Yeah. And file's loaded. Thanks for nothing.”

 

“Shut up,” Jet mutters.

 

“Never fucking mind, then. I'll find the way out myself.”

 

“Sure, cop an attitude.” He loves Sam, but God, he can be a dick sometimes. Jet sighs and pictures the building layout in his head. “Maintenance stairwell, cross five, and then down to the parking garage.”

 

“Cameras?”

 

“Use the smart phone app,” Jet grumbled. “And meet me back at the club.”

 

Jet turned off the earpiece and shut off the laptop. If he hurried, he still had a clear shot to the bike.

 

Sorry, Amos. I hope Thorne doesn't fire you, because this isn't your fault...

 

****