Chapter Text
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The Kanagawa mansion wasn’t so much a house as it was a labyrinth floating above Hyperion City. Once, Juno had made the mistake of looking up the blueprints for a case, and instantly had to go lay down from the ensuing headache. It was a mess: a rabbit warren of stylish expansions, half done renovations, and paid off safety inspectors that meant without an escort? You’d be lost for hours.
Juno didn’t actually know where Min’s goons had led him. He’d lost track somewhere around the second hidden door and the third staircase. The only thing he knew for certain was they were well past the range of the reality show cameras. A fact that was not lost on him.
He'd never been to this section of the mansion before. The sinking dread currently curdling his guts told him he wouldn’t still be alive if he had. He knew the rumours– everyone in the city did– of competitors or disgraced family members getting an invite to Casa Kanagawa, only to disappear off camera and never be seen again. The HCPD didn’t investigate those kinds of cases. They were either not paid enough or far too well to look into it.
Either way, things weren’t exactly looking up for Juno.
The room Min had prepared for him was decorated in the finest of minimalist aesthetics. So minimalist, in fact, you could probably just get away with calling a prison cell. There was no furniture, or windows. Just plain cement walls and a humming light strung from the ceiling.
Min hadn’t exactly been generous with the square footage either. If his hands were free— which they weren’t— Juno would be able to extend them and touch either wall. Instead he was stuck with his hands cuffed in front of him, unforgiving metal biting into his wrists. Min wasn’t taking any chances apparently.
Even Miasma’s set up had been more comfortable than this. The tomb had been musty and gross sure, but at least there’d been a bedroll to sit on, and more importantly no handcuffs. The company had been better back then too. As much as Juno was glad Nureyev wasn’t stuck here with him, it was hard not to miss him.
Without a clock or his comm, It was hard to tell how long he’d been down here. Long enough that his throat burned uncomfortably, dryer than the martian desert. A pointed reminder that he hadn’t had any water since he left the ship. He licked his lips.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Min needs a plumber,” Juno muttered under his breath. Or at least he tried to, the words lost to a cough that rasped against this dry throat. He was so thirsty. He didn’t know where the water was coming from- a leaky pipe maybe? But it was just insult to injury at this point.
Doing his best to ignore the dripping, Juno shifted on the concrete floor. He tried to get comfortable, but that was a lost cause. He hissed softly, resting his bruised and stiffening body gingerly against the wall. A parting gift from the goons who had escorted him to his room. Nobody did hospitality quite like the Kanagawas.
But hey- at least there was comfort in knowing Min wasn’t going to just let him rot down here. She still needed him to make a decision, right? She’d be back… eventually. Juno just had to wait it out.
Hopefully that would give Buddy and the others time to plan a much needed jailbreak. Juno may not have known how long he’d been down here for, but it had definitely been long enough for Vespa to make it back to the Carte Blanche. It’s not like Min had put much effort into hiding her tracks, sending Cecil to pick him up.
Had that been intentional?
Juno closed his eyes with a sigh. Trying to untangle Min’s motives was giving him a headache. He could already imagine the lecture he was going to get when Buddy got her hands on him. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d been played, mostly because there was no denying it. Min had been holding all the cards from the moment Juno arrived in Hyperion.
Her offer rolled in his head, the memory of her voice as crisp as the point of her pen, exposing Nureyev’s name to the world. Juno had been carrying that secret for so long, even before he truly understood the weight of it. Hearing it said out loud? It was like nails against slate, twisting the familiar syllables into something ugly. Something with teeth.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Somewhere beneath the throbbing his bruised face and the ache of his joints, Juno’s stomach churned uneasily. It’d never been a secret that Nureyev was hiding something from him. With the amount of money he pulled from every job, Nureyev should have been able to pay off any normal debt in a heartbeat. It was a question that had kept Juno up more nights than he cared to admit- even as he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. That Nureyev didn’t owe him the truth if he didn’t feel safe enough to share it.
But now Juno knew the shape of the weight chained around Nureyev’s ankle, dragging with every step. But drag it he did, with more grace than Juno ever could have managed.
Slip Jackson— the beating heart at the centre of Nureyev’s life story. One he had never shared with Juno. That lying on a bed in some medical research facility was a boy that Nureyev was willing to sacrifice everything for. That was the debt that Nureyev chipped away at, growing faster than he could ever hope to pay off. But that never stopped him from trying.
Because what Min was talking about? That wasn’t just waking someone up from a coma- it was bringing back the dead. Juno remembered having that conversation with doctors… after Ben. The difference between life support and actually being alive. Even if Dokana could do it… how much would something like that cost?
“Nureyev, you moron.”
Juno’s head fell back against the wall with a thump. His jaw clenched, hurt simmering in the pit of stomach. They had spent a year together on the Carte Blanche. A Year. But apparently that wasn’t worth anything. Nureyev had so many chances to tell him what was going on, but “it’s just a bit of debt, dear detective. I have it handled- no need to fuss.” And worst of all? Juno actually believed him.
He deserved to be angry, right? Especially, here now. Juno could feel it in his chest, snapping and snarling. But as soon as he reached for it, it slipped through his fingers…. Leaving only aching sadness in its wake.
He closed his eye and tried to remember Nureyev as a teenager. It wasn’t difficult to picture the boy Juno had seen in that red soaked room in New Kinshasa. All gangly limbs and wide eyes behind glasses that didn’t quite fit his face, the lenses streaked with the same blood that coated his hands. The man who had anointed himself his father, dead at his feet.
It was sickeningly easy to imagine that boy signing his life away to save someone else’s.
Burying his face in his knees, Juno shoved the hurt away before it could sink its festering claws any deeper. At least it was easier to ignore now that it would have been. Partially because he knew that not so long ago, he would have done the exact same thing as Nureyev without blinking. Clutching at the stupid idea that as long as nobody knew how bad the problem really was, you somehow had it under control.
Wasn’t that exactly what Juno did to him, back in that hotel room?
Drip.
Drip.
Dri—
Juno jumped as the door to his cell suddenly hissed open. He scrambled to his feet, dread waring with excitement as to who he’d see on the other side of the door. But if Nureyev was aiming for another last minute knight-in-stolen-armour moment, then he was running behind schedule.
“Morning, fellas,” Juno greeted the thugs Min had sent to his door, the same two cousins that had dropped him off earlier. “What can I do for ya?”
Even though he was talking to them, Juno’s focus wasn’t on the cousins. Instead he was far more interested in the cameraman they had brought with him. The cybernetic monstrosity growled, its camera lens focusing on his face. Whether to let Min see what was happening or for footage for documentary, Juno didn’t know. The only thing he was certain of was the thing was even uglier than he remembered- or maybe that was just the extra legs Cecil had added since the last time. Definitely not something Juno was interested in getting into a footrace with if he tried to run.
“Get up,” The closest goon said, grabbing Juno by the forearm to drag him from the cell.
Now that he was closer, Juno took a not insignificant amount of pleasure in the fact the goon looked just as rough as he did: his lip split, and both eyes bruised above a newly crooked nose. “Frozen peas will help with the swelling, you know.” Juno said, more than a little smug as he was escorted out. “It might even help you look less like roadkill.”
“Shut up,” Roadkill hissed, the split in his lip reopening as he sneered.
“Yeah you’re right. It’s probably a lost cause,” Juno said. “I hope your benefits cover plastic surgery, cause oh man that nose looks worse than mine and that’s saying something.”
“Ignore him,” said the other goon, glancing over at the camera man when it growled again. “Hurry up, Min’s waiting.”
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Annoyed by the sound, Juno turned. To his left was a side table that he knew wasn’t there before. And propped up on top of it was a data pad playing a video of a dripping tap. When Juno craned his neck, he could see the tiny speaker mounted on the wall of his cell. He rolled his eye, dry throat prickling uncomfortably. Min really did think of everything.
“So, what does a Lady have to do to get a drink around here?” He asked, fighting the urge to lick his chapped lips. “I gotta say, you’re not going to get that five star rating unless you step up your game.”
The only response Juno got was a shove against his shoulder, sending him staggering forward. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”
At first Juno thought he was imagining it; the sound of something coming from the ceiling. He even looked up, half expecting to see another Cameraman scuttling across the drywall. But there was nothing there.
Nothing except for a vent.
There was the sound again- a shuffling thump, like something was moving above their heads. It didn’t seem like the guards had noticed yet, too focused on the task that Min had given them. Only the camera man seemed to pause, its video camera face turning to the sound.
“Hey Min!”
Juno didn’t have a plan, not really. But planting himself dead centre in the spotlight had never failed him in the past. The cameraman whipped around, following the sound of his outburst. Juno twisted, craning his neck to stare down its lens. He wasn’t certain who was watching the feed, but hey- that had never stopped him from putting on a show. “I’ll take a lemon water with a straw. Oh! And extra ice, that’s the most important part.”
“What part of shut it don’t you get!” Roadkill snarled.
“All of it, if we’re being honest,” Juno quipped with his most annoying grin. “I’m not all that good with orders, just ask the HCPD. They called it a deficiency, but I like to think I’m being cute.”
Even bracing himself, the thunderclap of Roadkill’s fist connecting to his jaw nearly drove to his knees. He grunted, his head snapping back with the force of the blow. He’d be feeling that one for a while. But at least it gave Juno the perfect view of Peter Nureyev dropping from the vents.
He landed on silent feet, surveying the scene with eyes that burned as dangerously as the sparking plasma knife in his hand. In a blur of honed movement, Nureyev lunged for the cameraman. Dancing around its claws, he feigned to the side, dropping his knife from his right hand to his left before burying it in the base of the creature's skull.
It collapsed instantly, limbs twitching and camera powering off with an electronic whine. Retrieving his knife, Nureyev pivoted just as Roadkill’s partner managed to get a shot off with their blaster. But they were too slow. Nureyev sidestepped the laser without so much as a singed hair.
With a practiced flick of his wrist, he threw the plasma knife, sending it flying in a deadly arc. The goon grunted, clutching the blade in their stomach. They staggered back against the wall, legs buckling. Unflinching, Nureyev stepped over them, already drawing another knife from the sheath at his thigh.
“Drop the knife, asshole.” Roadkill snarled, without much of anything to back up his threat. Or so Juno had thought.
Too bad, Roadkill was smarter than he looked. Or maybe he was dumber, Juno wasn’t actually certain. But in his defence, the meaty forearm currently wrapped around his neck was making it a little hard to think… or breathe for that matter. He gasped, struggling, shoving at the arm with bound hands. But Roadkill wasn’t having it, the muzzle of a blaster jabbing itself into Juno’s kidney.
Nureyev froze. His eyes narrowed, knife held low at side at angle that promised retribution. “If you are at all concerned with your continued longevity, you would let him go.”
Roadkill’s laugh was an oil slick. His arm tightened around Juno’s neck, forcing him up onto the tips of his boots to relieve the pressure. “Buddy, I don’t think you understand how this works.”
“No, Darling, I rather think I do.”
Stepping out from the shadow of Juno’s blindspot, Buddy Aurinko was a vision in five inch heels and a twelve gauge blaster. Oblivious to her presence until it was too late, Roadkill jumped. His eyes flew wide as dinner plates, crossing to focus on the barrel now levelled at his skull. “My girlfriend bought me this for my birthday, shall we see if it’s as powerful as it promises?”
With a sound that could only be described as a whimper, Roadkills blaster hit the floor. Apparently Kanagawa family loyalty didn’t extend past death threats, who knew. Not that Juno was complaining as the arm crushing his windpipe was finally loosened before shoving him away.
Coughing and spluttering, Juno staggered out of reach. Nureyev was there to meet him, catching him by the shoulders. Which was probably for the best, because Juno wasn’t actually certain his legs were up to the task of keeping him upright at the moment.
“That’s a good boy, now— into the cell, if you would be so kind.” Buddy told Roadkill, tilting her chin to the room Juno had been occupying. Her gun remained steady, aimed unwaveringly at Roadkill’s skull. Her finger settled over the trigger. “Quickly now darling, I so dislike repeating myself.”
Whatever colour was left in Roadkill’s bruised face drained away. Hands level with his shoulders, he backed into the room, never turning away from Buddy’s blaster.
“Ta, ta!” Buddy said, the heavy door sliding shut. The lock slid into place with a click. “There, that should buy us a little bit of time at least.”
Juno snorted. “Not a lot. Min has cameras everywhere.”
“So I’ve noted. Thankfully Rita is already on it. From what I’ve gathered the mansion’s computer system is enjoying a rather nice vacation currently.”
“Do I even want to know what that means?” Juno asked.
“Perhaps not. Although I’m not exactly certain if I know myself.”Buddy said. Then she paused, looking Juno over. Her lips pursed. “No offence darling, but you look awful.”
“What? Don’t you like my makeover?” Juno asked with a grin he instantly regretted when it tugged on his bruised, aching face. “I thought it brought out the bloodshot in my eye.”
“Not particularly, no.” Despite the firmness of his words, the icy blankness of Nureyev’s features had melted away into gentle concern . He cupped the side of Juno’s face, offering him a small, worried smile. “Hello my love, must you worry me so?”
The coolness of Nureyev’s palms was like a balm. Juno leaned into the touch, letting it soothe the worst of the ache. “Yeah, can’t say that was my plan going in.”
Juno winced at the way his voice cracked. He coughed, swallowing around his bone dry through. Behind him, the video of trickling water continued to play.
“Any chance you have something to drink?” He asked Nureyev, knowing full well it was a rhetorical question. True to form, Nureyev reached into one of the bottomless pockets of his jacket and pulled out the flat bottle he always carried. He pressed it into Juno’s cuffed hands, helping him with the lid.
It was lukewarm and it was stale. But on Juno’s parched lips, it tasted sweeter than ambrosia.
“Slowly,” Nureyev murmured, his hand resting gently on the back of Juno’s neck. “… how long were you down here?”
“Dunno. That depends,” Juno said between sips. Even though he knew Nureyev was right, it was a fight not to drain the entire bottle in one gulp. “How long have I been missing?”
“Juno...”
“What? It’s not like it was my idea!”
Something flickered across Nureyev’s face- deepening the faint lines of his forehead and tightening his mouth. But before Juno could even start to figure out what he was thinking, the expression was gone. Smoothed over into the same carefully controlled blankness from before.
“Here.” Taking Juno’s hands into one of his own, Nureyev’s lockpick made quick work on the handcuffs. He rubbed Juno's wrists, working the blood back into them. “Let's get you out of here, shall we?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“We’ll need to be quick,” Buddy said, slinging that massive blaster over her shoulder. “Jet and my Vespa no doubt have their hands full keeping the path clear for us. But first, for you Darling.”
Buddy handed him a comms and an earpiece. Then, she pulled a blaster from the holster at her side, offering it to him. It wasn’t just any blaster either, it was Juno’s. The same one he had left on the Carte Blanche… however long ago. He took it gratefully, checking the laser cartridge and clicking the safety. The familiar weight of it in his palm was steadying.
“Vespa make it out okay, then?”
“But of course,” Buddy said, her lips quirking in the way they always did when she talked about her partner. “She’s been quite worried about you.”
“Right, sure,” Juno said, eyebrows raised. “And here I thought she’d be calling me an idiot.”
“Oh, that as well Darling, never fear.”
They made their way through the maze like halls, weapons drawn. Buddy and Nureyev flanked Juno either side, a step behind to not block his line of sight. Nureyev had made a point of staying on Juno’s right, tucked like a shield in his blind spot.
But in the end it turned out Juno didn’t even need his blaster. The mansion was a ghost town. The few people they did actually pass were slumped on the ground, their clothes charred by stun blast.
Juno whistled low and impressed. “Vespa and Jet have been busy.”
Nureyev hummed softly. “Apparently,” he said, looking around the room. He shook his head. “Although they could have been tidier about it.”
“Then it would have been a very poor distraction, Darling.” Buddy said, tapping the comms piece in her ear. “Vespa, do you have an update for me?”
“Hey Bud.” Vespa’s voice crackled in Juno’s ear. He’d never admit out loud, but it was a comfort to hear. “We made it to the office, but no sign of Min anywhere. She must have bolted. Probably when the hacker shut everything down.”
Buddy sighed. “Such a pity. I so wanted to have a conversation with her.”
“I hardly see how it matters.” Nureyev said, his hand resting on the small of Juno’s back. “Ms. Rita will be able to find her regardless.”
But Juno wasn’t so certain. Something didn’t make sense. It sat with him like it was lodged in the back of his throat, impossible to ignore. “Hey Vespa?”
“What?” she snapped.
“Was there a tablet anywhere in her office?”
There was a sound of ruffled papers and the scrape of a drawer opening and slamming shut. “Not that I can see.”
Juno’s stomach dropped, his mouth drier than before he’d drained that water bottle. So long as she had that tablet and everything on it, Min wouldn’t care where Juno went. Her threat still stood. But more importantly, so did her offer.
He looked up at the security camera mounted on the wall, one of hundreds that Rita had shut down when she took over the security system. But he watched as the red light flickered on, just a moment. So quick that if he had blinked, Juno might have missed it.
The spider may have fled, but her web remained.
“What are you thinking, dear detective?” Nureyev asked.
“I… I’m not sure.” Juno lied. His stomach churned. “It just feels too easy. She’s usually one step ahead of everything.”
“Not this time.” Nureyev said, conviction ringing in every word. He laced their fingers together, holding tight to Juno’s hand. “We’ll find her, I promise.”
But not before Min made their life a living hell.
It was easy to laugh at the Kanagawas. Or at least the version of themselves that they presented on screen: silly, over the top, and without a shred of common sense between them. But they were still one of Mars’ most infamous crime families for a reason.
Juno tightened his grip on the blaster. If Min had that tablet, then she was seconds away from broadcasting everything she had on Nureyev and Slip Jackson. Once that information was out there? Not even Rita would be able to bring it back.
The Solar planets couldn't care less about Brahma, and they both knew it. Min wouldn’t waste time with the authorities. Oh no, she’d sensationalize every detail. Nureyev’s story was something the media could really sink their teeth into: tragic freedom fighter or terrifying terrorist, you decide.
His name and face would be everywhere.
Juno was going to be sick.
“Love?” Nureyev asked, “Are you alright?”
“Y-yeah.” Juno cleared his throat to hide the way it cracked. “Just tired, I guess.”
“Me as well, I must confess.” This close, Juno could see the purple stain of dark circles through Nureyev’s heavy handed concealer. They dragged at the corner of his eyes, fatigue weighing them down. Visible proof of the stress Juno had piled on top of everything else he was dealing with. “As soon as we’re back to the ship, I want to pull you into bed and sleep for a week.”
“Sounds great,” Juno said weakly.
Nureyev struggled to sleep even at the best of times. That was probably why he rarely stopped moving long enough to try. Juno had known it was his debt keeping him awake, of course. But now that he understood what was really going on? It was a miracle Nureyev ever slept at all.
And Juno could make it stop. All of it. He could help lift that weight from Nureyev’s shoulders. Or he could make it a thousand times worse.
That’s what it all came down to, wasn’t it? Juno could either help, or see just how much more weight Nureyev could carry before he was crushed underneath it.
Guess it really wasn’t that hard of a decision, was it?
“Alright, that’s quite enough dilly dallying I think,” Buddy said, brushing imaginary dirt from her dress. “The sooner we can get the ship fixed and be off this planet, the happier I will be.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Nureyev said.
Juno looked down at the blaster in his trembling hand. It was already locked to stun. But he pressed the dial all the same, needing that certainty. The other’s were already moving- heading to Vespa and Jet’s location. But Juno stayed rooted in place. The edge of the dial cut deep into his thumb.
“Keep up, Darling.” Buddy called over her shoulder. “I’d rather not have to tangle with the HCPD out the door.”
“Juno?”
At the sight of the blaster, Nureyev’s eyes went wide. He drew his knife, ready to fight without question whatever foe Juno was aiming at.
But there was no one there.
Slick with sweat, Juno’s hands slid over the grip of his blaster. But his aim was true. Unwavering, he pointed it at people who had risked everything to save him. The captain who had made him a part of her family. The man who loved Juno with everything he had. Wouldn’t his mother be proud. Had it hurt this much when she pointed a gun at her kid?
“Tell Rita she’s fired.”
He pulled the trigger.