Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, Marvel, and all the men and women that created the Agents of SHIELD TV shows, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
Rating: T dark themes and mentions of violence
Author's Note: This is a Quakerider or Daisy/Robbie real world AU. I just really love this pairing so I decided to write this. I don't know how often it will get updated, but hopefully not long between updates. I'm thinking it will be about 20k-25k words total (spread out over 10 or so chapters), but maybe if I'm feeling ambitious it'll go longer. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Also, if you like this or want to read Quakerider fanfic that is set is the MCU world, check out my oneshot "Eye of the Hurricane"
Chapter 1: Flowers and Flames
A burst of laughter cuts through Daisy Johnson's concentration and she looks up from her paperwork to see the new girl, Marina, flirting with the boy who always seems to be around. They aren't supposed to have visitors at work, but the job is boring, so Daisy lets the infringement slide. Besides, Daisy still remembers what it feels like to be in love for the first time.
Speaking of love…
Daisy touches the soft velvet petals of the bouquet of daisies on her desk. Her boyfriend, Lincoln, had dropped them off earlier. He's one of those sweet guys who constantly do little acts of affection to show his love.
How a nice guy like him ended up with a former-hacker and foster care outcast like herself is beyond her, but she doesn't question it. All she knows is that he's the right one for her.
Daisy smiles to herself as she turns to her computer and works on sending the next order in. The company she works for sells car repair parts. It's not a job she would have chosen, but in order to pay for her college she has to work somewhere. And it turns out her ancient boss is clueless when it comes to technology, so who better to hire than a computer major like herself?
Although, one slight problem with this job is that she is just as clueless with car parts as her boss is with computers. Marina works at the front counter selling the items, and she's competent enough that between the two of them and pictures from Google they can complete inventory - though not quickly or efficiently - but Daisy knows when to take advantage of an opportunity.
And this opportunity will save her lots of time.
Daisy stands and makes her way from the office in the midst of the warehouse half of the store to the presentable half, where she and Marina organizes and restocks shelves for customers (a job they accomplish through item serial numbers that they assign themselves after receiving new shipments).
Marina is leaning over the counter to talk to the boy in the wheelchair. Daisy has talked to him a few times, and he's always been respectful and polite. From what she's overheard from him and Marina talking, he doesn't seem to mind his "disability".
"Marina, I need your help with something." Daisy stands next to her behind the counter, then acts as if she's seeing the boy for the first time. "Oh, hey, Gabe.
He nods in greeting, and Daisy turns back to Marina. "I'm trying to work on inventory, but I don't know what half of this stuff is." She sets her clipboard on the counter and sighs. "Who even knows what spark plugs are?"
Gabe's eyes light up, and he sits up straighter. "I can help with that," he offers, reaching up to grab the clipboard with the list of supplies.
"Really? Awesome!" Daisy starts making her way towards the back, but when Gabe rolls past, she slows down.
"You knew he would offer to help," Marina accuses lightly.
Daisy shrugs, not able to completely wipe the smirk off her face. "He comes in here to get parts for his brother's mechanic shop every week, so he knows what all this stuff is, and he likes you so he wants to show off by helping. Plus this is a lot less work for you and I later. A win-win."
Marina shakes her head, but she's smiling now, too. "You're good at getting out of things."
"That's the biggest thing I've learned from college so far." Daisy and Marina finally catch up to Gabe, who is already a quarter down the inventory list.
"I figured I'd just finish it," he admits. "Maybe then you guys can get out early."
He wheels towards the row of boxes and does some quick math in his head before marking off that item and moving towards the next.
"That's so thoughtful of you," Daisy replies, winking at Marina. The girl blushes a little and turns away.
"We'll have to give you a discount next time you come in with an order."
"Oh, that's okay. I don't mind helping. It's nice to feel needed."
Although Daisy knows he doesn't mind being in the wheelchair, there still are societal prejudices against those with disabilities. And, of course, certain things are impossible to do without the use of legs.
A few minutes later Gabe returns, handed Daisy back her clipboard. "Done." He turns to Marina. "I'll see you when you get out?"
Daisy jumps in before the girl can answer. "You kids run along. I'll close up tonight."
Marina's face brightens. "Really?"
"Yeah. Go ahead."
Daisy watches fondly as the two of them head out together. They make a great couple.
She heads back to her computer to finish sending in the order, then closes up. Tonight is a special night, and the earlier she gets out the better.
Robbie Reyes shrugs on his usual black leather jacket with the white rectangle on the front. The sun is starting to set, so his real work is about to begin.
He grabs the keys hanging from a knob by the door and spins them around once before clutching them tightly. The metal edges dig into his palms.
He hates this job.
The old Dodge Charger - '69, to be exact - blends in with the dark sky around it. Robbie slides into the front seat and starts the engine.
He glances at the weapons sitting on the passenger seat next to him, and his hands curl into fists. He hates this, but it has to be done. He made a promise, an oath, and he won't go back on his word.
And he also needs to stay alive for his remaining two family members.
He flicks his headlights on and hits the accelerator. He doesn't have to go far tonight. This time, the gang members have journeyed into his territory.
When nears the outskirts of Los Angeles, he cuts his lights and drives cautiously through the ghettos. Graffiti art and a few muffled screams are what gives away Fifth Street Locos' position.
Robbie stops the car a block away from the crime and gets out, grabbing a gun from the passenger seat and sliding it into his waistband. He then heads towards the gang at a brisk walk.
There are four of them here. One is holding a knife to a woman's neck, the others laughing at her anguish.
"Let her go." Robbie stands at the entrance to the alley. Only a dim streetlamp illuminates the scene, making it all the more eery. But Robbie isn't the one who should be afraid.
"Ayúdame, ayúdame por favor!" the woman exclaims, momentarily breaking free from the thug's grip. "Tengo dinero y - "
The thug shoves her down and behind him and eyes up Robbie. "Why should we?"
Robbie doesn't answer. He starts walking towards the gang members, his hands clenching into fists with each step.
The gang members whip out knives. The first one jumps towards him, but Robbie grabs his wrists and flips, using the man's momentum against him. The second thug throws a punch and then tries to catch Robbie with an uppercut, but Robbie lands a solid kick to his sternum.
The third thug throws his knife, but Robbie ducks. The knife ends up burying itself in the chest of the first gangster, who had just stood up again. He falls to his knees, and then to his face, unmoving.
Robbie throw a punch to the man's face, which he successfully blocks, but then follows it up with a gut shot. The man is taken by surprise and staggers backwards.
The fourth thug sweeps Robbie's legs out from under him, then angles his knife towards Robbie's unexposed neck. He grabs the man's hands and struggles to keep the knife suspended in the air.
The other gang member kicks at his side. Robbie twists his body out of the knife's path and lets go. When the thug falls forward on his momentum Robbie grabs the back of his jacket and pulls him to the cement, bashing his head against the sidewalk.
The two remaining thugs rush him at once. Robbie can't stop the direct punch to his face, but he grabs the arm that delivers it and twists it around the man's body. The gang member cries out in pain, but Robbie keeps applying pressure. When the other gangster gets close he kicks him away without releasing his current victim.
The arm snaps with a sickening sound and Robbie releases his arm only to grab the back of his head and crush it against his knee. The man falls limply to the ground to join his other two friends.
The last thug turns to run, but Robbie pulls out his gun and fires one shot. The bullet strikes the man right in the back and he collapses mid stride.
The woman stands shakily and rushes over to Robbie, grabbing his hand. "¡Muchas gracias, señor! Tú eres un verdadero ángel."
Robbie shakes his head. "No," he replies, pulling his hand back. "Not an angel. Soy el otro."
The woman frowns. "¿El otro?"
"I am the devil. El diablo."
The woman stares at him for a long moment. "No comprendo. Tú eres un buen samaritano. Tú me ayudaste. No puedes ser el diablo."
Robbie stares at her with pity. She believes that because he helped her he can't be the devil. She called him a good samaritan.
But he knows the truth. Good samaritans aren't always as good as they seem. "La vida es...muy complicada. Ahora, ¡sal!"
She gives him an almost scared look before grabbing her purse and leaving. He hears her heels click as she picks up her pace and runs.
When she's far enough away, Robbie drags the bodies into a big pile. He takes a half empty bottle of alcohol one of the thugs had and dumps the contents over the bodies.
One of the men stirs sluggishly. Robbie pays him no attention as he takes a match from his pocket, strikes it, and tosses it onto the pile. It erupts into flame, catalyzed by the alcohol.
Robbie turns his back and walks away, the fire lighting up the alley. The man who had been moving slowly started screaming, but Robbie ignored his pleas for help.
His fingers clench into fists again, but this time it's not for fighting. This time it's out of frustration.
He hates his job. He hates hearing the screams of pain and the snap of bones and the crack of a gunshot or the crackle of the flames.
But he swore an oath. He swore that he would get vengeance.
The fine print was that none could be left alive.