THE FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS: SWEARING, KIDNAPPING, RESTRAINTS, CRIMES, VIOLENCE, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED (18+)
EYE FOR AN EYE
57. INT. BOZ’ HQ — UNKNOWN T.O.D.
JD hasn’t had a smoke in what feels like three days.
They’re not really sure why the fuck this is the only thought that’s filling their mind right now. Honestly it might be the incense in this place, it’s thick and heavy like it’s not just clinging to whatever decor is filling the hallway behind their blindfold, but the metal too.
Their sandals tap against the thick metal floor alongside their gnoll escort’s clicking claws. JD can only feel the tremors in their knees, their arms. They fight through it, hoping they don’t come off as pathetic as they feel. The restraints are getting really uncomfortable at their wrists in front of them, though.
Probably not as uncomfortable as this meeting with BOZ BARKFANG is about to be. Geez, they’re really going to have to sharpen up before they get there. On a good day they’d have a hard time talking circles around BOZ BARKFANG.
And, well… Today is far from a good day.
Their feet trip on something soft–is that a rug?–the gnoll guiding their arm uncomfortably, grips them tighter, yanking hard enough to keep them upright.
GNOLL
(warning)
Watch it.
Not like they can watch very much with this blindfold on. It’s tight. It’s dimly lit in here so there isn’t much contrast to even try to make anything out through it.
Do you think this gnoll is GEORGIE? Feels like they’re being escorted by someone they’ve heard of before but never actually met. A name that floats through conversation, you imagine faces to them until you meet them and somehow its never quite like the face you’ve been imagining the whole time.
Pretty sure that DOC–no–the guy talking to the DOC who knocked them out mentioned a GEORGIE. They saw this guy’s face briefly before and didn’t think too much of it. Hard to when things keep going from worse…to worse.
JD really wishes they could muster up some modicum of focus right now. They’ve been just barely keeping some tabs on the amount of steps, the lefts and rights they’ve taken. The sounds of the different material beneath their sandals. As if they’re going to be able to pull off some crazy escape now that they’re heavy into withdrawals again.
All they can really think about is that smoke they wish they had. Something to calm their nerves, and settle their impatient addiction. That would clear their head right up, just about now, probably come to their senses about how ridiculous an escape plan sounds right about now.
The gnoll–PROBABLY GEORGIE–tugs JD to the left and stops in front of a door. There’s a jingle of keys, a click, unlock, twist of a handle and then a small waft of air as it swings open.
JD is promptly shoved inside before PROBABLY GEORGIE speaks up again:
PROBABLY GEORGIE
Stay put. Don’t try anything.
The door slams shut, the lock settling into place again with a sharp–
SFX: CLICK.
JD waits, not really sure what to expect. This guy just left them with the full ability to take their blindfold off. It probably doesn’t matter too much. Still, nervously, on a count of ten… And then fifteen… Twenty–okay fine. They slowly pull the blindfold up to find that they’re in a real small–what is this four by four foot?–cell of a room. The door might as well have a slot for a window with three or four bars in it. JD takes a deep breath. Okay.
Well, this is…fun. They approach the door, carefully twisting the handle back and forth but it hits the locking mechanism both ways. They expected as much. It’s pretty rudimentary though. Old school. This thing doesn’t even have a keypad…its got a handle for crying out loud.
JD stares at the door handle for a long moment wondering if they can smash it hard enough with their foot to break the lock and get out of here. They picture it, for a moment– and the next second they know they’re lifting their foot and slamming it down on the handle.
Pain shoots up their leg like a rocket and they reel back, gritting their teeth and stifling a yelp.
Yeah, dumb idea. They’re not really sure what they were expecting–that thing’s really bolted in there. C’mon they’re not some sort of operative. They’re just a cleaner.
A cleaner who really can’t stop daydreaming about that smoke.
Okay, think of something else. No–not the throbbing pain in their foot they hope isn’t broken.
Their mind drifts to FRANKIE. She’s okay, right? She has to be if they’re still alive, still here. They just want to hear the full story. Maybe it’ll all blow over like nothing, JD’ll drop the mole’s name and it’ll be like they did something good for once, right? FRANKIE’s okay. She’s totally fine.
It’s not like they sat there and watched her get shot in the eye.
Yeah, that’s about as great as that’s ever going to sound.
JD shuts their eyes and takes a deep breath. Okay, bad thoughts. Think of something else.
Maybe sit down first. They can feel the trembling in their legs start up again and move over to sit with their back against the wall. They pull one wrist free of the restraints and halfheartedly check all of their pockets for a smoke that doesn’t exist because if it did, they would have smoked it days ago. They sigh, scrub their face–gods are they still the gnoll? Feels like it. This shift is going to feel real weird when they let it go.
This has been a really messed up liminal stretch of time. JD wonders to themself if it’s been days, weeks or months since they breathed fresh ABSALOM air.
Well, as fresh as it gets on a STATION at any rate.
They look down at the restraints around one of their wrists, thick woven piece of fabric clicked into a thick metal clip between the two. They put their free hand back into the other side of the cinch. Might as well wait this out, they’ve waited this long haven’t they?
Time to start thinking of the best plausible story, maybe a few answers to some tough questions.
They’re sure BOZ isn’t going to be quite as friendly as his entourage.
CUT TO: AN UNKNOWABLE NUMBER OF HOURS LATER
JD’s gone through fifty different scenarios, fifty different stories, each one sounding worse than the last. Every thought slips out like smoke. The nausea is really settling in now.
It’s really not helping the pit in their stomach as it squirms sharper and solidifies itself into a rock weighing them down. At this rate, they almost wish BARKFANG would just put them out of their misery. Someone just come in here and shoot them, already.
SFX: CLICK–THUNK–
The door opens and a swell of nerves and panic bursts the pit in their stomach, its contents bleeding out through their entire body.
PROBABLY GEORGIE opens up the door. Their gnoll face, flicking their gaze around the room until it lands on JD. It’s only their gruff voice that confirms it’s PROBABLY GEORGIE.
PROBABLY GEORGIE
Get up.
They approach JD as JD struggles to get up. They grip JD’s arm and unceremoniously yank them up to their feet. The pain in their arm at the sudden motion pales in comparison to the embarrassment of being tugged around like this. JD is shoved toward the door, and the gnoll shoving them around doesn’t bother with the blindfold this time.
The hallway is tight, but lush with fixtures, tapestries and paintings and little tables with vases, old heirlooms passed down from generation to generation. JD wouldn’t be entirely surprised if these were pre-GAP. They’re pushed along quickly, down a maze of halls they’d have a hard time remembering the pattern to now that they can see it. Never mind when they were blindfolded.
The two turn one last corner, facing a massive set of ornate double doors–is that wood? Wow. That stuff’s expensive to import. Especially for something like this. They imagine, anyway. Do trees even grow big enough to fit something like that? They’re trying not to think about the gnoll waiting for them behind it.
PROBABLY GEORGIE knocks. There’s no answer at first, at least none that JD can hear, but PROBABLY GEORGIE is opening up the door anyway and tugging them inside.
It’s hot in here. That’s the first thing JD notices, the crackling fire in some sort of furnace on the lefthand side of the room. Is that even legal? To have a roaring fire like that? Looks like this furnace really belongs in a boiler room. It’s antique, like a lot of the things in this place. Old, worn but refurbished.
This is a fancier office than they’ve ever been to. Permanent. Nothing like IZOLA’s.
Everything in here is antique, dark, moody. There’s a giant gold-framed, painted family portrait on the wall opposite the fireplace. It looks like part of it might have been repainted to exclude someone. The composition of the thing is all wrong, a large empty gap on one side. But there remains the serious face of BOZ with his two kids, looking extremely dignified. JD’s gaze lingers on this image of FRANKIE and that bleeding feeling in their gut gets worse.
JD is shoved into a too-big seat with a tired flat cushion, clearly worn out beneath them.
By the desk, they’re not sure why they didn’t notice him before, maybe he just fits his picturesque office space–
BOZ BARKFANG leans back against his, big gruelling desk. He smokes an electric pipe, one of the ones you actually have to fill with leaf of some sort. JD would appreciate the attention to aesthetic if they weren’t spending so much time trying to keep their nerves together.
PROBABLY GEORGIE takes the restraints off JD’s wrists and moves to tie them to the seat which conveniently has its own set, but BOZ speaks up before they can manage it.
BOZ
Leave it, Georgie. No restraints. It won’t be a problem.
Ah, so this is GEORGIE. GEORGIE hesitates, looking at BOZ, warily.
BOZ
Yes, go. I’m settling this.
GEORGIE nods, moves away. JD can’t help but take in BOZ as GEORGIE steps out of the room.
He’s shorter than JD imagined, but taller than FRANKIE if they had to guess. His fur is scruffy in that older-gentleman kind of way, silvering more than it already is at the tips. His suit is perfect and pressed, the jacket slung around the chair behind him, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s got a face that could easily be sympathetic but JD’s sure they won’t be seeing any of that just now.
BOZ takes a nice slow drag of his pipe, exhales the smoke and waits for the door to close behind GEORGIE.
He looks JD over and JD resists the urge to shrink under his gaze. They can’t bring themself to meet his eyes.
BOZ
Take your face off, kid.
JD hesitates just a bit too long, trying to figure out what he means but BOZ is quick to clarify, much to his obvious annoyance.
BOZ
Let’s talk without hiding, Mm?
JD hasn’t even shown their face to IZOLA…they can’t just show it to BOZ. The only thing they can think of is to shape-shift into a reptoid, that might just save their skin.
It takes a second for JD to undo the gnoll-shift. Sure enough it feels about as weird as they expected. Aches in places like their snout and their arms. Eesh that gnoll face was almost starting to settle. They manage a reptoid just barely.
BOZ doesn’t look impressed. The shift in his face is subtle but it’s enough for JD to quickly realise they made the wrong move.
BOZ
Your real face.
JD
This is my real face–
BOZ
Don’t fuck with me, endiffian.
JD’s heart sinks. How did he know? It’s not like ABSALOM STATION is crawling with endiffian. You’re more likely to run into a reptoid–
BOZ snaps his fingers.
BOZ
Don’t test my patience, I’m not in the mood.
JD grits their teeth but does as they’re told, shifting out of the reptoid base form and into their face. Their longer hair covers part of it, but somehow this still feels wrong. Like they might as well be sitting naked in front of him.
BOZ takes in their shift, another long, slow drag on his pipe. They can feel his eyes raking over their face as JD shifts in their seat. He exhales, he doesn’t speak. Forcing JD to squirm until they can’t help but break the silence.
JD
Is…Is Frankie okay…?
BOZ
You like her.
The reply throws JD off.
JD
Um, yes… Sir.
BOZ
Does she know?
Present tense… That’s a good thing, right?
JD
Kn-know…that I like her–?
BOZ
That she’s seein’ someone… Who isn’t real.
JD
Not real, Sir?
BOZ
What’s your name?
JD
JD.
BOZ
JD? No, a real name.
JD tenses as the two look into one another.
JD
It’s the only one I have.
BOZ
Hmph. Funny guy.
That’s not a good sign. BOZ doesn’t look like he’s laughing.
JD
Sorry, I’m not trying–
BOZ
You know what I find…funny?
JD hesitates again, the silence too short for them to reply anything to help themself.
BOZ
I find it funny, that some fella… With a bunch of masks, no name, happens to put my daughter in the middle of some trouble. ’N they ask me, if she’s okay.
JD
I didn’t set her up.
BOZ
Am I lying?
JD grits their teeth, their brain is slow, he’s quick, real sharp. JD can feel their sweats coming on. The next step after the nausea, the shakes, the brain fog.
JD
No, sir.
BOZ
You thought you could impress me, with your pathetic little scheme. Cost me two of my own crew.
JD balks for a moment. They run through the scenario again–did FRANKIE actually pick off the runner? Was the mole caught too?
JD
I was hired to clean, chasing a lead, Frankie had mentioned ages ago. She’d heard something about a mole and this felt like it might be the gig to draw them out.
The words come spilling out of JD, covering FRANKIE’s hide. It doesn’t seem like BOZ BARKFANG would be too forgiving even for his own kin.
BOZ raises his bushy eyebrows, peering into JD.
BOZ
Oh. A mole. Fine, give me a name, then, DJ.
Okay, cool, perfect. This ought to fix things. If they can drop the name they might just spare themself out of this.
JD
I don’t know the full details, I was just the cleaner. A gnoll named Nick. They weren’t at the scene, but there were traces left. Frankie was pretty adamant about it.
BOZ takes another long drag of his pipe, JD imagines doing the same, feeling the smoke burn down their throat and pool in their already-dead lungs. They imagine the hit of energy, of calmness, apathy.
BOZ exhales, looking disappointed…
BOZ
That’s not the full story, though is it? Still hiding behind a mask. You realise you’re life’s of little value to me.
Oh, that…wasn’t the reaction JD was expecting.
JD
That’s all I know–I was only hired for a clean, get in your good graces.
BOZ
In my good graces? I don’t believe that, not from you.
JD swallows hard.
BOZ
Been pinning things on us for years.
JD
So you know…
BOZ
Yeah, I know you’re Izola’s favourite little cleaner.
Okay, JD holds onto their resolve. There’s no way they could have planned for this so they’re going to have to play it close to their chest and pray they don’t make the wrong step.
JD
I put my head down and do what I’m told. That’s all.
BOZ
Mm. That’s too bad, for you, DJ. I can’t have Izola messing around in my business.
JD
This wasn’t Iz’s job.
BOZ
Whose job was it?
JD hesitates. Fuck. They can’t pin it on IZ or they’re done for, they can’t pin it on FRANKIE or they’ll never be able to live with themself.
BOZ
From the top, DJ. Let’s hear the whole truth, eh?
He leans against his monstrous-looking desk, settling in more comfortably. Looking down at JD as he takes another long drag on his pipe.
JD can practically taste the leaf on that one. They think fast. Short and sweet. No fluff. Only the important details.
JD
I was contacted about a clean. Freelance. I needed the work so I didn’t ask any questions, just decided to take it up. Showed up to the place a complete mess. Frankie was…
JD’s breath catches, remembering that night, her panicked face, that awful shrill gasp.
JD
A-ah. She was on the ground, passed out. There was a ysoki, a human, shot through, already dead. But Frankie was still breathing so I patched her up best I could and took her to the closest place I could think of.
JD lets the silence sit for a minute holding BOZ’s gaze. It’s not the full truth but it’s definitely half of it. The look in his eyes suggests he doesn’t fully believe JD though.
The tearing grip in their guts only grips harder when BOZ says:
BOZ
Funny. That’s not the version I heard.
JD’s surprise seems answer enough. BOZ reaches to press a button on the comm on his desk.
SFX: BEEP
BOZ speaks again but it isn’t to JD even if he’s still holding JD’s gaze.
BOZ
Francesca?
The voice on the other end is definitely FRANKIE and JD’s heart leaps hearing it nice and clear.
FRANKIE [OS]
Daddy?
BOZ
You wanna be a dear and come down to the office before you go? I want to ask you something.
There’s a slight hesitation.
FRANKIE [OS]
Eh–yeah okay. Be down in a sec.
BOZ
Thanks sweetheart.
JD’s relief overwhelms them for a moment she doesn’t just sound alive she sounds good like she’s rehabilitated, like she’s back to her normal life.
JD catches the look on BOZ’s face and that relief stifles itself a moment. Wait–was FRANKIE’s story…well if she was up front about things… Most of their own story still tracks.
It’s a painstaking wait in thick heavy silence before that door behind JD opens up again. JD can’t help turn in their seat, setting their eyes on FRANKIE for the first time since the whole ordeal.
JD swallows back the leap in their heart, happy to see she’s okay. Mostly, okay. Her eye’s been replaced with an expensive-looking cybernetic. The guilt twists their stomach.
She catches their eye and looks away like she’s horrified seeing JD here.
FRANKIE
Hey, daddy, you didn’t say you had a visitor.
She chastises BOZ, heading over to him and greeting him with a kiss on each cheek before she looks JD over with a bit more distance.
BOZ
Mm. Forgot I suppose. We were having a nice chat, about what happened to your eye, sweetheart. I just thought you should set the story straight, tell it what you told me.
FRANKIE’s gaze flicks to BOZ, wary.
FRANKIE
O-Oh…ah. Well. I don’t really remember very well…
BOZ
Hm? Oh you don’t have to worry about this thing. We’ve been talking a while. It’s civil enough. You had a pretty strong case a couple days ago.
FRANKIE hesitates, glancing between JD and BOZ. A sinking feeling starts to squirm in JD’s gut, here.
FRANKIE
Well uh, w-what did they say…happened?
BOZ looks at her, raising an eyebrow. He sticks his pipe in his mouth, thoughtfully, letting the tension really sink in, before he removes the pipe and speaks again.
BOZ
Says was just hired to clean up the mess you made.
JD
(quick)
N-no–that’s not what I said–
BOZ
(quicker)
You calling me a liar, now?
JD
No.
Their voice is louder than they intended it to be. The panic creeping up their throat as they glance between the two.
FRANKIE’s face gets harder to read.
FRANKIE
I said: JD came to me to help them. So to put ‘em in your good graces we’d do a job together. JD got the lead, shot both your guys, our mole got away after he shot me. That’s why Nick’s been MIA for almost a month.
JD just stares at FRANKIE, processing FRANKIE’s words, letting them sink in deeper. Without thinking they say:
JD
But you…you would have bled out there…if I didn’t get you to Jak’s.
FRANKIE doesn’t meet their gaze, looking to BOZ who nods and turns his attention back to JD.
BOZ
So, you think yourself a hero.
JD can feel BOZ’s gaze on them but can’t tear their own from FRANKIE. Why the fuck would she say that? This wasn’t their gig…it was her’s. BOZ is going to kill them just on that alone. Why would she lie, like that?
Their distraction frustrates BOZ enough he snaps his fingers and JD flinches, turning their attention back to him.
BOZ
Answer the question.
JD
N-no. I don’t–I’m not–far from it.
BOZ
Good. So we agree.
BOZ steps forward and JD stands, reflexive, this is all going to shit.
BOZ
Sit down.
JD stares defiantly, for a second, trying to think of something to say. But they look over to FRANKIE, her remaining eye wide. She shakes her head behind BOZ.
The gesture is enough to distract JD so that when BOZ shoves them back in their seat they land hard.
On either side of them, BOZ’s big clawed hands grip the arms of their seat. JD can smell the bitter smoke rolling off him. His pipe glints from his pocket.
Quietly, dangerously, Boz growls.
BOZ
This is on you.
JD
(strained)
I didn’t have anything to do with this. I was just there to clean.
BOZ
Say I believe you. Someone’s still gotta pay for Nick’s mistake…my daughter’s new eye didn’t come cheap. And, well, you’re the only one here. You kill my informants?
JD holds on to their resolve, where the fear was, a boiling frustration and resentment is starting to cloud their judgement.
JD
I’d say your informants paid for Nick’s mistake plenty.
BOZ looks at them, a smirk crossing his features. It could almost look sympathetic if JD weren’t already starting to see red.
That smirk spreads, grows into a chuckle, a laugh. Behind him, FRANKIE’s laugh is shaky, wary.
But then BOZ reels back, drawing his claws, FRANKIE catches this and shouts–
FRANKIE
No–!
But the cry is too late, BOZ’s claws come down in a sharp swipe clear across the left side of JD’s face. The pain is piercing, white hot. JD reflexively presses a hand against their cheek but it burns. They flinch. It takes them several seconds to even process that the blood on their fingers is their own when they look down at them.
BOZ isn’t laughing anymore. He grabs JD’s face, fingers clipping the open gashes across their cheek. Hot pain burns where their wound connects with his flesh.
BOZ
Mm. Missed. Was aiming for your eye. Poetic, you know. Call me sentimental, an eye for an eye.
JD stares back, wide-eyed, struggling to compose themself. Their breath coming sharp, sporadic.
BOZ
Count yourself lucky. I was gonna kill you. But Frankie made a real good case. Figured, cutting you off at the knees was better than cutting you off at the neck. I’d say it’s a bit more cruel.
JD stares at him but doesn’t hear everything, the burning pain across their face, bleeding into his fingers–
BOZ
Anyway. Funny little liar like you shouldn’t be wearing too many more faces. And if you try to… Well… Now we’ll all know who you are.
BOZ smirks, takes a drag off his pipe and exhales it into JD’s face. They grit their teeth, their fearful stare focusing into a scowl.
BOZ
(satisfied)
There it is.
BOZ pulls back, he takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes the blood from his hand.
BOZ
Francesca? Do your daddy a favour and escort our guest home. They shouldn’t be a problem for you anymore.
FRANKIE hesitates, but quickly catches herself with a nod. She makes her way over to JD, grabs them by the arm and roughly lifts them from their seat. The yank reminds them of GEORGIE from hours ago.
JD stumbles as FRANKIE tugs them toward the door.
BOZ stops them before they leave.
BOZ
Be back here in an hour. I’m keeping track.
FRANKIE
(quietly)
Yes, Daddy.
58. INT. FRANKIE’S RIDE — EVENING
JD is quiet, as the two walk through the halls. As FRANKIE’s grip on their arm tightens. They can feel her casting glances up at them, out of the corner of their eye. JD doesn’t meet her gaze once. They grit their teeth holding onto the simmering pain still bleeding across their face.
She sold them out. Straight down the pipe. Like it was nothing. Did she even think about it?
At some point she hands them a handkerchief to try and stop the bleeding. JD probably takes it because it’s pressed to their face. They don’t hear what she tells them because all they’re seeing is red and all they’re hearing is static.
Her ride is an obnoxious hot-pink-almost-red starcraft planet-bound. Parked in a garage, solo. VIP parking of some kind. JD slips in the backseat and doesn’t pay attention to the smear of their bloody hands.
FRANKIE
Careful the–yep–okay.
FRANKIE gets in the driver’s seat and pulls out, setting off toward JD’s place. They hope, anyway. Though she might as well take them to one of the drop-offs in BOTSCRAP and shoot them out into space.
Might be too much work for her, though.
They watch the city scenery go by, not registering anything but the number of times FRANKIE glances into the rearview trying to catch their eye. They know she wants to say something, but honestly it’s all they can do right now not to puke on her upholstery, it might even be custom.
They were never in the same league, the two of them. JD can’t help the red hot pool of shame. Stupid. They can’t believe they fell for it. For any of it. They can still feel the blood dripping through the handkerchief pressed into their face, down their neck. It’s only just starting to congeal.
CUT TO: ONE AWKWARD RIDE LATER…
They’re not sure if the distance between their place and BOZ’s HQ is too long or too short. Long enough to really make this silence thicken into noxious awkwardness. Not long enough for them to feel comfortable being let off right in front of their building. Too late, though, they’re staring up at it as FRANKIE pulls to a stop.
JD grips the handle to leave but FRANKIE locks the door before they can manage.
FRANKIE
JD, c’mon I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do, hm? Just tell my pops I was itchin’ to make a name? That I was fuckin’ around with the enemy? That I was–
JD
(quiet)
Unlock the door.
FRANKIE
You know I couldn’t put my ass on the line that’d cost me my inheritance. You think Barkfang would even function if Emilio wound up running it?
JD stops listening to her, waiting for this all to be over. Staring into a nicked stitch in the door’s upholstery. FRANKIE talks and talks and talks.
They unlock the door and she locks it again, faster than they can open it.
FRANKIE
Talk to me, JD–don’t get all fuckin’ weird.
JD
I thought you were dead.
Their voice is quiet but FRANKIE catches every word, her eye trying to lock with theirs in the rearview, but JD’s only looking at that frayed stitch and imagining it pull itself apart.
FRANKIE
Well hey–I’m mostly fine so–
JD
I thought you were dead or dying for weeks! You didn’t–did you even know where I was? Did you even think to check??
FRANKIE
I was getting used to the eye! I was gonna come find you.
JD scoffs.
JD
Why? So you could tell me you sold me out to your pops? Might as well shoot me yourself.
FRANKIE
Don’t be dramatic.
JD unlocks the car door but she’s quick to lock it again.
JD
Let me the fuck out of here.
FRANKIE
Relax, JD. You’re freaking out–
JD
Of course I’m freaking out! Frankie!
FRANKIE
Well stop freaking out, JD. You’re freaking me out.
JD locks eyes with her’s in the rearview, now.
JD
I’m freaking you out? For WEEKS you couldn’t have told anyone to let me know you weren’t dead? Boz had me bound and gagged in the basement for eons! I don’t even know what DAY it is!
FRANKIE
(quiet)
It’s fourthday.
JD looks away, unlocks the door and watches it lock again, swallowing the bile in their throat, ignoring the shake in their hands.
FRANKIE
I didn’t know, JD. I just woke up and I’m blind in one eye and I’m doing rehab for weeks–
FRANKIE stops when JD shuts their eyes, trying to swallow it all up, trying to ignore the tear in the floor of her sporty pink locomotive, of the black hole reaching up to grip their ankles.
FRANKIE
What?
JD opens their eyes and tries to unlock the lock again but FRANKIE’s just got her finger on the trigger.
JD
Did you ever really care about us, Frankie? Or was that all just a joke to you, too?
JD holds her gaze and they’re so angry but they hate how it gets overshadowed, how it gets muddied with heartbreak.
FRANKIE turns around in her seat, a flash of proper worry crossing her face as she moves to take their chin in her hand but they flinch out of her reach.
FRANKIE
JD–this isn’t. I still care, I care right now, JD. We’re still us.
JD doesn’t believe her. They don’t believe much right now. Everything’s angry and disjointed pieces. They watch her scramble. She keeps talking and talking and talking.
Right until she puts her own foot in her mouth again.
FRANKIE
C’mon. It’s like he said, eye for an eye, ‘cept you can count yourself lucky because you still got two–
And JD is seeing red again. A bubbling boiling rage erupting from them in a voice louder than they’ve ever had to make it:
JD
IT WAS YOUR PLAN.
The shock of it silences FRANKIE, her ears bending backward.
JD
You got shot in the eye and you were bleeding so much–I thought you had gotten yourself killed. I risked everything for you!
FRANKIE scoffs defensively.
FRANKIE
Risked what?? You came to me for help so I was trying to help.
JD
By getting shot?
FRANKIE
I had the shot and you distracted me! He heard me talking to you!
JD
There were two other guys there, FRANKIE. Apparently they were BOTH your DAD’S CONFIDANTS!
FRANKIE
How was I supposed to know that?
JD
It’s basic mission-shit Frankie! You have to know who the hell is on your side before you get in there! WHAT intel were you even looking for?
FRANKIE
We were tracking the mole!
JD
Okay, so you knew! It would have been fantastic for ME to know! What if your mole had a GUN–oh wait–he did!
FRANKIE
Well that’s why I had BACKUP, JD. That was YOUR JOB.
JD
I couldn’t even see the guy–
FRANKIE
Clearly! Cos ya let me get hit! You see the mess to clean up after? No. Because you left everything and I had to come up with an excuse!
JD
Oh, that’s low, even for you.
FRANKIE
Yeah well, it ain’t like I can get much lower than you getting dumped by your own family twice.
JD stares at her and it’s like they’re staring at a stranger. They watch in real-time as she realises her miss-step. JD looks away.
JD
Unlock the door.
FRANKIE
No–wait… I didn’t mean that. C’mon, JD we both fucked up here lets just scratch it and move on.
JD
I’m not going to ask again.
FRANKIE
JD…
JD
Unlock the door, Frankie.
FRANKIE frowns, she unlocks the door.
Without hesitation, JD opens up the door and steps out, leaving her to scramble out of the locomotive behind them.
FRANKIE
You’re just gonna leave?? Hey!
JD keeps walking, straight towards their front steps until FRANKIE grips their arm and turns them to face her.
FRANKIE
So what?? That’s it then? You’re just gonna drop me for that? For one lousy gig? After everything?
JD grits their teeth, biting back that bile, the pinching pain between their eyes and real quiet they hiss.
JD
Frankie, if I never see you again. It’ll be too soon.
FRANKIE stares, shaken now as the situation really starts to sink in. She holds their arm, a little tighter, possessively.
FRANKIE
(scoffs)
You don’t mean that.
JD holds her gaze, a boiling anger simmering through them. For once she seems real small. Her ears bend back and she scowls, trying to make herself seem big.
FRANKIE
You don’t. You’re just mad. Mad ’n scared.
JD rolls their eyes and taps their card to the scanner to let them into the building. FRANKIE’s grip on them tightens as she starts to scramble…
FRANKIE
You’re just running away again! It’s a blip, JD.
FRANKIE pushes them up against the wall next to the keypad so they can’t slip away.
FRANKIE
(upset)
Stop.
JD holds her gaze but when they catch her eye tearing up they can’t hold it for very long.
JD
I’m done, Frankie. We’re done. You can find someone else to use on your way to the top.
FRANKIE holds them there, for a long moment, processing, hoping for them to change their mind, they aren’t sure. Eventually she sniffles and shoves herself away from them.
FRANKIE
F-Fuck you.
JD exchanges one last glance with her, mustering up the last of their anger, their frustration, their hurt.
The scan blips against their card.
JD
Bye, Frankie.
They slip into the building and if she says anything more it’s cut off by the door shutting behind them.
59. INT. JD’S APARTMENT — 5 MINUTES LATER
The door is already cracked open when they get there. JD hovers just outside their apartment, staring at the handle hanging limp from the door and the shadows that pool from inside. They reach a hand out, pressing a palm to the door and open it carefully.
It takes a brief scan of the place for JD to realise, nobody’s here. Who knows how long it’s been since whoever ransacked the place. It’s a mess. Most of their shit’s gone. Clothes, vinyls, anything of value was pilfered.
They’d chalk it up to a case of rotten luck if they weren’t already pretty sure this was one of IZ’s goons looking for them. Probably pretty lucky, all things considered.
Once they’re sure nobody else is here they slip into the bathroom and hurl everything but their guts into the toilet. It takes a while for the nerves to settle and for their stomach to stop squeezing and wrenching every bit of sour out of them. Dried blood flakes onto the toilet seat when they press their forehead to the cool metal trying to settle back down.
They flush.
Maybe they ought to pop a nausea pill before they scrounge for a smoke.
They stand up to face the medicine cabinet, reaching to open it but they catch themself in the mirror and stare, instead.
Their face is a bloody mess but three bright gashes tear through their skin from their neck, all across their cheek. They reach a shaking hand up to trace them.
JD runs water over their fingers and quickly splashes it into their face, leaning down, scrubbing at it, harder and harder despite the searing pain complaining.
They straighten up, half expecting the effort to wash the gashes clean off but they’re still there, bright and bleeding. Rivulets of water mixing with blood dripping down off their chin.
Their breath is shorter, shallower, raking in hard, panicked. Sharper, quicker. They look away quickly, breathing and breathing and breathing–
Useless.
BOZ [VO]
…you shouldn’t be wearing too many more faces. And if you try to… Well… Now we’ll all know who you are.
JD steps back, catching their own eye, breathing and panicking until they just can’t stand themself anymore.
And then their fist connects hard with the mirror’s once smooth surface.