InFAMOUS belongs to Sucker Punch. I own only this story.

"You know what we should do?"

"Oh here we go…" Cole kept his eyes on the Western, taking another sip from his bottle.

"We should go on a road trip. Yeah, you know, like we used to do in college!"

Cole turned his head, the world's most incredulous look plastered across his face. Zeke had always been full of ideas. Good ideas, bad ideas… that was up to interpretation. But they were always ideas. Ideas on how to protect the rooftop. Ideas on how the government was spying on them. Ideas on what classes to take and not take.

"Zeke, that has to be the worst idea I've ever heard." Zeke frowned, biting his tongue in wanting to say that he knows he's had worse.

"I know it's sudden and all that, and that we've just started rebuilding the city. But com'on Cole. You can't just keep working all the time, you gotta relax, take a break now and then."

"What do you think I'm doing now?" Truth be told, Cole agreed with Zeke one hundred percent. He was tired, he was bruised black and blue, his arms were so sore he could hardly hold his beer. But he was the hero of Empire City, he wasn't allowed to complain. He had an image to uphold; a hard-ass that took a twelve story leap and didn't feel a thing. That's how people portrayed him, and that's what he had to be.

"Look, Z." Cole cut off his friend, who was about to protest. "Protecting this city is my job. A full time, unpaid, thankless job. But I made this mess, and I owe it to Tr-… to the people to fix it. Once the city is back on its feet and the police can handle what might be left of the gangs, I can go back to being a bike courier and do whatever the hell I want. But just, not yet."

He almost slipped up there. Almost said her name. He knew Zeke caught it; he wasn't totally oblivious when it came to what bothered Cole. But Zeke knew to let it drop. Trish was still a sore spot for not only Cole, but for himself as well. No, Zeke would let the slip pretend to be ignored; but it simply confirmed in his mind that he was right and Cole needed a break from the city and from his hero stint.

"Yeah, well. Probably for the best. Seeing as you can't even ride in cars no more anyhow." Cole knew that tone. This would not end well for him.

"Zeke, what the hell is this?"

"Well, see now, we was talking the other night and I got to thinking, you really can't ride in a car!"

"Yeah, so? I have my bike, the rails, the wires, the rooftops… don't really need a car."

"You might not on your own, but what about us needing you in a car?"

"That makes no sense."

"Yeah it does brother. See, what if you get hurt or something, and Warden or I have to bring you to a hospital or something. I can't carry you, and Warden can't carry you. So, I got to thinking, why not throw you in the back of a truck that's lined and you can't blow it up!"

Cole stood, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the trash-bag lined bed of the pickup truck. Zeke was standing inside the bed, spinning a roll of electrical tape around one of his fingers.

"See, there're rubber mats in it, 'cause rubber doesn't conduct. And then plastic, as an extra layer, and keeps everything nice and dry like. Figured you'd like that part. You don't seem to be so keen on water as of late. Which reminds me, you stink like hell."

Cole sighed slightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Zeke again had a point. While he could heal incredibly fast, and was getting physically stronger every day, now and then a fight would leave him face down on the ground for more than a few minutes trying to regain his breath. What if something major happened? What if he was injured to the point of needing medical attention? He could call Zeke, and his friend would be there with the non-exploding truck, and could get him to help. He did mention that some genius should think up a car that wouldn't explode when he sat in it. He just really hadn't wanted to put Zeke's name to that status.

"Can you at least try it, see if it works? Even if we don't use it, it might help around the rooftop." A number of nights ago Cole had gotten frustrated when Zeke hadn't been home, and he had come back hungry. In Zeke's actual apartment, the fridge was unplugged from the wall. Zeke didn't exactly live there anymore, and had been planning on moving the fridge to the roof just before the blast to replace the dying one that was already there. After the explosion and chaos that erupted, they never really got around to it. The unplugged refrigerator Cole could touch, but everything was rotten. The refrigerator on the roof was plugged in, and Cole knew better than to touch it.

So he stood in front of the door, tight frown tensing his whole being, as his stomach gurgled and rumbled in protest of a day and a half without food. He wanted to reach out, touch the handle, grab something to eat whatever it was. But if he did that, he'd short out the fridge, maybe even make it exploed. And then they'd be out of food, and would have to find another source of cold storage. Maybe actually get the good one from Zeke's real apartment. But that was a lot of work, work that he honestly didn't want to do.

So Zeke had found him, glaring at the door to the fridge, late into the night when he got home. Yes, if lining a truck bed could carry Cole around, they might be able to figure something for home life too.

"Fine." Cole grabbed the side of the truck, also lined with trash bags, and hoisted himself in without touching any metal whatsoever. Nothing happened.

"There, it works." Cole made a move to get out, but Zeke ran to the door, excitement radiating off him almost tangibly.

"Wait wait! Let's see if it holds while I turn it on!"

And that was how Zeke tricked Cole into a road trip. Two hours after getting into the back of the truck, Cole still refused to talk to him through the open back window of the cab.