|The wrong trailer
Author: Is0lde PM
(SnatchMatrix crossover) Ever wonder how Mickey was able to punch someone out cold with just one blow? Here's why... AU 'cause here, Mickey's the One, not Neo. This might be a bit weird... heh.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Words: 2,415 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 3 - Published: 12-27-04 - id: 2191585
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The wrong trailer
: Okay, I know this is pretty... umm... weird, but I just couldn't help myself...
Matrix belongs to the Wachowski Bros., Snatch belongs to Guy "The Man" Richie... blah blah blah... wish I owned Turkish.
I was sitting playing cards with Tommy when they knocked on the door of our 'office'. It was late at night, but I was having trouble sleeping, so I'd woken Tommy up to keep me company. He'd complained loudly at first, of course, but after a few hours he'd kind of mellowed down and stopped arguing. Perhaps 'cause he knew it was futile, or perhaps just 'cause he didn't have the energy. Now, he was sitting opposite to me at the table, rubbing his sore, reddened eyes furiously.
"Now who the fuck could that be?"
"Dunno, Turkish. Ordered any pizza lately?"
Stupid git. Sometimes Tommy could be as intelligent as a lamppost. "Why would I order pizza in the middle of the goddamned night, Tommy?"
"Dunno. Why would you wake me up in the middle of the night?"
"Ah, shut up." I arose from my chair and staggered to the door of the trailer. Admittedly, I was beginning to feel a bit drowsy, but that was no reason to quit playing – dammit, I was winning.
Before I got a chance to open up, the ones waiting outside took the initiative and barged right in, causing me to fall over in the process. I got up as fast as I could, and stared at the people who'd decided to break an entrance in such a rude manner.
There were three of them, all of which bore black leather jackets and sunglasses. Couple of bleeding prats, I remember thinking to myself. They looked like they'd just walked out of a cyber punk science-fiction convention. To round it all off, they carried massive firearms.
I reached for Tommy's gun, which was on the table. Had to defend the office and myself as well as I could, and that was the only way I knew how.
"Who the fuck are you?" My voice trembled in a most unsatisfying manner as I held the strangers at gunpoint. "I'll have you know this is loaded, and I'm not one for subtle solutions when it comes to defending my office. So I suggest you get the hell out of here, before me and my partner here make you." I glanced at the table, looking for some support from my half-wit companion. "Ain't that right?"
That's when I noticed Tommy was cowering somewhere beneath the table. I could hear him pant frantically. He's a fine boy, Tommy, but his courage sometimes… falters.
"Your… office?" replied one of them, a bleached-blond woman, eyeing it doubtfully.
Something stirred inside me. "Yeah, that's right. My office." Pride's a funny thing, isn't it? I was fully aware Tommy's gun had no bullets in it, and that if they wanted to, these fellows could easily take us both out, but yet there I was; staring in the face of death and defending my office. Pathetic, when you think about it, but at the same time, I suppose it's only human.
"Well, we haven't come here to fuzz about your poor living conditions," the apparent leader said rather scathingly. It was a dark-haired woman, and I noticed her very American accent. She seemed capable of anything. Brick Top would've loved having her employed, rest his rotten, evil spirit. "We've come for him." And she pointed at Tommy, who was still attempting to hide beneath the swaying table.
"M-m-me?" Tommy stuttered, still quailing.
"Ah, what's the matter with you people? He's just a kid, for fuck's sake," I said, trying to sound tougher than I was feeling. If Tommy had got himself into trouble again, I didn't know what I'd do. It wasn't even three weeks ago I'd had to fight off a fucking herd of slugger-like thugs 'cause he'd had the audacity to tread on their territory whilst shopping for groceries. That would've cost him more than his wallet if I hadn't come along. Sometimes I wondered how many times I'd have to save his ass before he learned to stay out of trouble. "Look, you got a problem with him? You take it up with me first. We'll work something out. No need to get violent."
"Stay out of this, you idiot, I'm handling it."
"B-but I've never seen these people before!" Tommy crept out of his hiding and stood up as nimbly as he could – that is, not very. "What do you want? I don't owe you anything!"
Well, what do you know. Tommy may be as brave as a potted plant, but when under pressure, he's actually got the balls to stand up for himself. Most unreliable feature, balls.
The dark-haired woman gestured to her colleagues. "Switch, Apoc, you wait outside."
"N-n-nice fucking names. Y-you thought of 'em yourselves?" Tommy stammered, with the recklessness that always got him in trouble. I cursed under my breath. The boy's asking for it, 's what he's doing, and the next time, maybe I won't be there to save the day.
"Listen, I thought I told you to shut… the hell… up, and stay out of it," I mumbled through gritted teeth.
"This does not concern you," the woman said, her two cronies exiting the door behind her. For a fraction of a moment, my instincts told me to make a run for it while the doorway was still available and open, but thinking of Tommy, who'd have to face this bitch alone if I went and left him behind, held me back efficiently. Also, the thought of what the strangers would do to me once I'd got out kind of did its job, too.
"Like hell it doesn't concern me. He's my partner."
The woman cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, really."
I scowled. "Shut up." I still had the gun in her face, and I would've expected her to be affected by this fact, but she didn't even flinch, she did not waver. Either the bint was fucking stupid, or she knew it wasn't loaded. But how could she possibly know that? "Look, you tell us what the hell the boy's done, or I'll pull the fucking trigger on you."
"You've been looking for answers." The woman had obviously ignored my remark and spoke directly to Tommy, who'd parked himself right next to me as if he was preparing to take a dive behind me if bullets would come our way. Fucking coward. I reminded myself to give him a proper beating later, if there would actually be a later for us. "We can give them to you. All you have to do is follow us, and you'll be enlightened. So stop your whimpering and let's get out of here."
Tommy frowned. His expression told me he couldn't decide on whether he was scared witless, or just merely confused. I thought if he was both, I couldn't blame him. I myself was fighting fear as the woman spoke, I'm not afraid to admit.
"I haven't been looking for anything," he said slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman didn't pay any heed to the boy. "If you just put on your jacket, then we can be on our way." She turned to me, and I could see my reflection in her sunglasses' dark surfaces. My head looked a lot bigger. It annoyed me more than I would've thought it would. "You," she said, a demanding tone in her voice. "Turkish or whatever the hell your name is."
"Put down that gun. It's useless." She grabbed hold of my arm, and as easily as though it'd been well-cooked spaghetti, she bent it down. I felt utterly powerless. It freaked me out, but I had no power against her. She'd now taken the gun out of my hand and was weighing it in her hand. "A bit heavy, isn't it?"
"Means it's reliable," Tommy replied proudly.
"Didn't I tell you to go get your jacket?" she said, her voice cold as ice.
He shook his head furiously. I cursed inside me yet again. If the boy kept fucking with these dangerous people, he'd soon be spending a lot of time looking for his head. But it wasn't up to me anymore. He'd have to tell her off, 'cause he seemed honest in his proclamation: he hadn't met them before, and he didn't know what the hell they were talking about. "I'm not going anywhere. Like I told you, I don't know who or what you're after, but it sure as hell isn't me. I run freakin' slots, okay?"
For the first time since the lot of them had arrived, the woman seemed to have doubts as to if they were doing the right thing. "You're lying. I know you're lying. I was told to go get you, and that means you're coming with us."
"I still don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Tommy was getting tougher and tougher by the minute. If I hadn't known him, I could've easily mistaken him for a real cold gangster. But as it was, I knew that his new-found courage was temporary.
"So… you get a good night's sleep every night then? You don't sit up by your computer looking for answers you can't find anywhere?" Her voice was very small now. I grinned. Maybe Tommy had broken the bitch after all. Impressive.
"Normally I sleep just fine," Tommy said ironically. "When Turkish here can't, though, that usually means I'm not able to either. Second, we don't even own a fucking computer. How could we? Have you had a look around? Have you seen our office?"
The woman bit her lower lip. "Your name isn't Mickey?"
Here's where things just blew my mind completely. How many Mickeys did we know? Only one: the fucking idiot who'd damned near got us killed. Figures he'd be the reason we were now in trouble yet again.
"Meet Tommy," I said, gesturing in his way in a taah-daah-where's-my-fucking-drum-solo sort of way. "Unlicensed boxing promoter. Well, to be fair he just runs the slots."
The woman gasped. "You're kidding me. You're fucking kidding me."
"No, I'm not. Incidentally… this Mickey fellow you're looking for… he's not a pikey, is he?"
"How the hell did you know that!?" she shouted, apparently as mad at us as at herself.
"We know him, 's how," Tommy inserted. "You know what, I think you've just got the wrong trailer."
"The wrong… the wrong trailer. God dammit! Switch! Apoc!"
The pair of them stumbled in, their weapons drawn.
"What? Want us to take 'em out, Trinity?" the man called Apoc asked fervently. If he'd had been a normal bloke, I'd probably have poked fun at his ponytail. In this situation, though, I rather felt inclined to shut up about it.
"Whoa," I said, raising my arms up in a disproving gesture, "no one's taking anyone out. Little lady here's just realised a mistake's been made."
"He's not the One," the woman said, letting go of Tommy's gun. It hit the floor with a bang that echoed between the metallic walls of the trailer.
"I could've told you that just by looking at him," Switch said, giving Tommy a disdainful look. "He wouldn't last two seconds faced with an Agent."
"What's an…" Tommy began, but when I stomped on his foot he shut his mouth promptly.
"Okay, look. You get out of here now, and I won't mention your little visit to anyone," I said quickly. "Does that sound like a fair deal?"
"We'd appreciate if you told us where Mickey is," the leader bitch said. "Of course, this is pretty embarrassing for us, and we don't want it to get out, but… but if you gave us directions, it would really help."
"I don't know where Mickey is. He left months ago and he didn't exactly want to be found, so he didn't spill the word about his future whereabouts or nothing. But what I can tell you is, since he's a pikey, looking in campsites would be a safe bet."
I hoped that my explanation had sufficed. After a moment, the woman the ponytail man had called Trinity nodded curtly. "Okay then. Guess that concludes our little rendezvous, then. Come on, let's move on."
When the three dunces had left the trailer, Tommy turned to stare at me.
"Fuck me," he said. "That was bloody scary."
I glanced at him, trying to give an impression of superiority. "You think?"
He ignored me. He was getting good at that. "Well, what do you think they want with Mickey, then?"
"Perhaps they want him to box for them. Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy, I don't know. And I don't want to know, either."
He shrugged. "Fine, be that way. So why did you step on my foot, Turkish? What's the harm in asking a plain question?"
I rolled my eyes. Tommy was certainly back to normal again. Daft as ever. "You think they wanted us to know more than we already do? Tommy, they're obviously pretty shady characters. You think it's wise to go digging in their fucking heads for more information?"
Ashamed, he shook his head. "No, Turkish."
"Good lad." I sighed, sat myself down at the table again and grabbed the half-empty milk-carton to take a sip. Then, I looked at him. "Are you coming, or what?"
He snapped out of his own thoughts and looked at me dully. "What?"
"We have to finish the fucking card-game, Tommy. I was winning!"