Chapter Text
Somehow, between the two of them, Elliot and Chase have hammered the Z-Team into some kind of functional shape. The sheer concentrated cranky granddad energy seems to keep the chaos just barely on the rails. Sometimes it almost feels like some kind of messed up summer camp, since they're in SDN Transitional Housing, too. Mandy just hopes the environment doesn't set him back, because she has not been able to get him placed anywhere else. Chase is muttering dire prognostications about that very thing at her elbow as they climb the stairs to the men's floor of the unit that's housing Z-Team on their way back to being respectable citizens.
Blazer has made sure to be there for Blueknife's arrival, because it's always good for new Phoenix Program inductees to have someone that they can think of as 'on their side' at delicate moments. Also, Z-Team have been instructed not to overwhelm their new colleague as he tries to settle in and are probably going to need help with that. Help, not a foot broken off up their collective ass. Hopefully.
"I swear, if these deviants bother my boy..." Chase grumbles, hauling himself up two flights of stairs rather than use the elevator for 'one good goddamn floor.'
"We'll work it out," Blazer says, helping him up the last few steps as he glares at her.
This also a good occasion for a kind of soft surprise inspection, of at least her own people and the building at a glance. Really, this is the part she wishes she could show the public, sometimes. People think they know all about the people in the Phoenix Program, and Blazer doesn't want to minimize their very real crimes, it's just... people who think someone like Flambae is only capable of destruction would be surprised to see how well-kept his little room is, and how genuinely happy he is to show her his new rug, rescued from a dumpster and lovingly repaired by hand.
"Totally taking this with me to real-people housing," he says, which for him is only about a month away, if he behaves himself.
"You should," Blazer says. "You did a wonderful job on this fringe." It's almost not fair, how well Flambae responds to praise, but he really has done a good job. And it's best to keep him in a good mood, since apparently he lost those fingers in a fight with Blueknife. He has declared himself willing to let bygones be bygones with surprising philosophy, literally just shrugging and saying, "shit happens," but still.
Right on cue, she gets an arrival text from Elliot, and zips downstairs to meet him and... well, calling him 'Blueknife' constantly probably isn't good for him, they'll have to figure that out. She carries Chase, who doesn't complain at all, for probably the first time ever. The transport is an unnmarked black van, of course. Elliot is masked, and Blueknife has his full suit back on. It must be a spare, the other had been covered in Duskwing's blood. Elliot hustles his nephew inside and gets him signed in at the office.
"Your personal effects should be here in an hour," he says, "and we're working on an exemption to Beef. Good job getting codependent with a dog under twenty-five pounds."
"You're welcome," he mutters, and then blinks in surprise at the sight of Blazer.
"Hi! Just thought I should help you get settled in," she says, and gives Chase, who is hanging back, a gentle push forward. She can tell Blueknife doesn't recognize him, and ouch. But he just goes over and glares up at all that menace.
"Just gonna vanish like a bitch, huh? Didn't think anybody might be worried about you?"
"...holy shit. Chase!?"
"Yeah, it's me. What, Elliot didn't tell you?"
"He said, 'accelerated aging', not 'Chase is Black Einstein now'!"
And they hug, and Blazer swallows around the lump in her throat and studies the ceiling tiles for a while. Chase says something about, "You know I didn't like, know, right?" and Robert says that he knows, and then Chase is explaining the house rules and that he's stuck with the goddamn deviants that are the Z-Team, but that they're supposed to back the fuck off, at least for today.
"Men's floor is upstairs, kid," he says, turning toward the stairs, "so let's get going."
"Grandfather clause for ADA?" Blueknife asks.
"No, I'm just not using the elevator for one goddamn floor while I've got breath in my body!" Chase snaps, and Blueknife actually laughs, just a little.
"Jesus, Unc," he mutters, "I always knew you were gonna be the worst old person."
"Elliot's working on it, trust me," Chase says, and even at his pace, soon they're upstairs and in Blueknife's empty room. It's not much bigger than a prison cell, but there's a generous window with no bars, the bed is definitely better, and the walls are a soft peach rather than any kind of depressing institutional grey.
"You gotta share a shitter with these animals, I'm sorry," Chase says, "but one of 'em is gay, at least. This chintzy-ass closet is about as good as a cardboard box but you don't own shit, anyway, so it doesn't matter."
"Don't rag on the kid," Elliot says, "he works hard."
"There's no shame in being broke, damn!" Chase snaps, and the two of them descend into squabbling like the old married couple they resemble entirely too much.
"Uh, are you feeling supported by family?" Blazer asks Blueknife, and his smile as he watches his bickering uncles is a beautiful thing.
"Actually? Yeah."