Chapter Text
Alex was, for all her many faults, a incredibly good mechanic and was surprisingly trustworthy with a lot of stuff.
The allround definition of the “i know someone” person.
You went to Alex if things broke and needed to be fixed.
Dime was the sort of person you went to if you needed an IED.
Low and Alex vaguely knew her from their school days, but she seemed fairly normal back then and was at least half-popular with highest grades, something that was hard to believe if one looked at her current state of life.
They both politely upheld contact for a while after graduating, as long as the etiquette for 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 commanded them, before they eventually allowed it to fizzle out.
Years later she re-established contact via a phone booth and highly cryptic messages in calls and notes pushed underneath Low’s door, it was clear that her mental state had suffered massively at some point between those.
“Dime” wasn't even her real name, but whenever someone tried talking to her about it they either were treated to the 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘱 of an ended phone call or the frantic hissing of “𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 name has been compromised”, whatever that meant.
And now she had contacted them because something in her refuge and kingdom had broken and she, for reasons unknown, couldn't trust anyone but him and Alex to fix it.
So they had arrived at her place, a relatively “stable” house in the parts of the town that had been completely leveled during the Uprising and simply neglected to be rebuilt.
The house looked like it was preparing itself for a new bombardment.
Hundreds of metal sheets, mostly rusted scrap but also solar panels and a few satellite dishes, bolted or welded to seemingly random parts of the roof.
The yard itself looked like it had recently fought in at least thirty different wars; parts of the lawn singed and black, others a unhealthy withered yellow.
A lonely birdhouse fought desperately against the oddity of its surroundings.
“Cuckoo’s nest” Alex said next to him, giggling quietly over her rather lackluster pun.
The door bell was surprisingly normal and a few seconds later the mail slot flipped open.
“You got what i asked for?” a rough voice echoed outward, joined by the strange 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘬 of thin metal meeting something else.
“Alex, pay the nice lady” Low sighed and rolled his eye.
From the bag around her shoulder Alex pulled a box of aluminium foil, shoving it into the mail slot before stepping back and folding her hands courteously in front of her.
After a lot of locks fell and clinked heavily behind the rather flimsy door, Dime’s face appeared in the small crack that she left open.
Low had to bite his lip at Dime’s appearance.
A massive colander, crossed and covered with wires and crowned by a lightbulb, sat on her head and hid most of her features.
“I suppose her aluminium 𝘥𝘪𝘥 run out” he whispered to Alex with as much of a straight face as possible.
“You guys are way too late!” she hissed and the metal echoed her sentence, reverberating with distortion.
“I thought that was the point of you living here, that people have trouble finding you” Alex objected in a soft tone that was so unlike her.
Dime seemed to mull over the thought for a short while before nodding and opening the door a 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦 sliver wider.
The inside of the house was a mess.
Where Alex lived in filth because she was a slave to her vices and general laziness, Dime was living in a state that must be reflecting her own mind.
Every window had been covered with cardboard or heavy curtains, giving the place an air of eternal twilight; dust motes dancing in the few spots where the light did shine through.
Junk and other trash crowned every place, a few things had seemingly been gutted for its various components while others seemed to stay only because of Dime’s hoarder-like compulsions.
Low passed by a stack of newspapers, each displaying the date of the passing weeks up to the last year, seemingly random words and phrases marked with a marker that shone faintly when Dime’s light-hat passed it.
A thick and sour tang of what smelled like a mixture of industrial oil, trash, solder and singed ozone hung in the air, combined with the musty stuffiness of a place that hasn't seen fresh air in a while.
“Maybe she doesn't get enough air to her head, it would explain a few things” Low thought quietly to himself, hoping the various ornate but functional looking contraptions that covered the walls didn't fall down and crack someone's skull open.
“Do you perhaps have a window that's not entirely covered up? I can't stand the air around here” Low smirked and drew out a crumpled pack of smokes from the inside of his jacket.
“Go outside then” she huffed before lifting an admonishing finger.
“But don't linger outside, take a walk or else this place might look suspicious”
“I will ensure that no boogie man shall find this place”
Low snorted and placed a hand on his heart.
“But…𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯!” Alex protested.
“You can't just-”
“I’ll be right back, you can handle this”
His pronounced and creaky smoker’s laugh echoed long after he left the house.
“You think i can really trust him?” Dime said as she snapped up the blinds with a finger, staring after him as he actually did take a walk as promised.
“No worries 𝘉𝘦𝘻𝘶𝘮𝘯𝘺𝘺, you can trust my 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯” Alex said from somewhere in the background.
The thing that Alex was supposed to be repairing was impossible to describe, a random assortment of wires and servers with exposed circuit boards and antennas and 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 that were jutting out of a metal box that seemed partially handmade and yet utterly archaic in design.
It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, if the guy had a few brushes with derangement and brain-damaging fever dreams.
“Aha…” Alex said and placed a hand on her chin in an attempt to at least look like she understood 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 in front of her.
“That's my noise filter” Dime said, as if it was already clear from the start.
“A noise filter?” Alex repeated, in the hopes that the mad Inventor would elaborate.
She did not.
“....”
“I could use a noise filter as well, especially when my downstairs neighbour shows up drunk at night and-” Alex tried to breach the quiet with a small quip but was interrupted by Dime.
“Oh so you’ve been hearing these voices as well?” she said and immediately a small blush formed on her gaunt cheeks.
“That came out wrong but i’m serious! I’ve been hearing things on the radio and elsewhere too, so to counter-”
While Dime was rambling to herself about how the government was actually sending high frequency rays to control the populace and turn them into mindless hordes, Alex took a quick look at the radio, it looked relatively new and functional but when she turned it around the battery pack was missing and the cables had been professionally cut.
So much to that.
“-but three days ago it stopped working and i can't seem to figure out why, so that's where i need your help”
Alex turned to the woman wearing a salad bowl on her head, idly swung her hands around before folding them behind her back, bouncing a bit on her heels.
She was honestly quite out of her league here.
There was no saving this, she doubted the “𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳” could be fixed and if she could not fix it, which she was very much certain of, then she still had to think of a lie to feed the crazed Inventor.
Luckily there was 𝘰𝘯𝘦 thing she could do.
From a depth of her her jumpsuit, Alex fished out a small pouch.
She plucked a single dried leaf with two fingers, delicately placed it into her mouth, and chewed with a blissful expression.
𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵….𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺.
A bitter, almost earthy taste spread across her tongue almost immediately and she closed her eyes with a contented sigh.
“What did you just eat?”
Dime’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, the lightbulb on her head flickering, almost as if to signalise her emotions.
“Mints for my breath” Alex lied with an easy smile.
Even though Alex couldn't see her eyes she was sure that Dime was staring at her with an intensity that would surely set her aflame if she could, the lightbulb slowly glowing every brighter.
Then it stopped and, what must be a moment of clarity, she asked meekly if she could have some as well.
“Absolutely not” Alex grinned back, hoping Low would return soon.