picking up from @preludeinz through me to @drdone

Brain’s is glad that Kayo’s the one spinning lies.  Somehow, the mirrored lenses always seemed to reflect back a truer version of yourself than you wanted the Mechanic to see.

It’s how Brains had found himself in this mess in the first place.

He’s still not sure that the Mechanic is buying Kayo’s story, but at least he’s not outright angry.  Brains is so nervous waiting for the explosion he almost misses his cue to nod furiously when the Mechanic glances over to check Kayo’s point about taking Brains on a joyride.

Kayo looks relaxed in his presence, the slight arrogance Brains had come to identify with the real street rats, the ones who’d pick his pockets if it wasn’t for his ties to the big boss.  Brains himself can barely breathe as the Mechanic stares at her, impassive and unmoving.

“Bring me a car,” he growls finally, dismissing them with a flick of his hand. “Then we’ll talk.”

Brains almost yanks Kayo away, desperate to get deeper into the maze of makeshift workshops that had already sprung up in the new shop. He needed to talk to her without eavesdroppers.  “We’ve got a problem,” he manages to hiss with only one false start; Brains could see at a glance these weren’t racing pits.

“Chopshops,” Kayo murmurs, running a knowing look over the VIN cloning setup, the industrial grinders, all the accoutrements of slicing cars up in all the ways that couldn’t be traced.

Brains nods tightly.  He’d seen this twice before.  “He’s cleaning house.”

Kayo’s slight inhale told him she knew exactly what that meant.

* * *

“I’m giving her another ten minutes and then I’m calling it.”

Next to him, John sniggers softly, little more than an exhalation in the dim quiet.  “You said that ten minutes ago.  You’re not calling this in.”

Scott drags his gaze away from the door he’s been staring at for a good twenty minutes now to stare at his brother instead.  “You sound pretty sure of yourself there.”

John’s messing with his phone, texting or Tindr or Candy Crush, Scott can’t tell. He’s set the screen down as dark as it will go, but it’s still bright in the darkness, casting his brother’s cheekbone’s into even starker relief.  “You won’t call it in because right now you trust her a lot more than you trust the rest of your entire department not to screw this up.”  John looks up at that, a humourless smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.  “And you really don’t want to screw this up.”

The words it’s what dad would have done are like acid on his tongue, and even a year ago Scott would have spat them at John.  But he’s gotten good at keeping that anger deep down where it won’t show.  “What are you doing, anyway?” he asks instead, jerking his chin at John’s phone.

John’s thumbs are already flying again.  “Something this big, moving late model cars?  I’ve heard enough dispatch calls to know they use hackers to clear the plates.  And hackers,” he adds, pausing long enough to point at a discreet black box sitting on top of a fuse box near the door Kayo had vanished through twenty-two minutes ago now.  “Need wifi.  I’m just trying a few passwords….”

Scott scoffs despite himself.  “Somehow I don’t think anything the Hood’s involved in will use ‘password’ as a password.”  In cup holder by the handbrake, Scott’s own phone rattles, the screen flashing too bright.  Kayo’s message was terse, more code than words.  “Round back.”

John’s craning his neck to read upside down.  “Can’t get any plainer than that.”

Scott’s scowling as he turns the motor and eases them around the lot.