Chapter Text
The rain outside stopped.
Feinberg waited just by the front door, listening to the sporadic plop of lingering raindrops dripping from the rooftops onto the pavement. The air was humid and chilling, the loitering rain driving the temperature to drop against the pale moonlight. His gaze drifted blankly down to his own distorted reflection in a dark puddle, his mind already racing miles away from the warmth of the tavern.
–ding ding ding
Followed by the soft, familiar chime of bells, was Fruit’s steady and grounding footsteps. He tossed a quick wave of goodbye over his shoulder to Couri, who was still wrapping things up inside, before stepping out into the cool air and turning to Fein, who was leaning quietly against the brick wall. Fruit raised a single eyebrow, an obvious questioning look.
What do you want to talk about?
Fein pushed off the wall, standing straight as he pulled his coat tighter around his frame to shelter from the shivering cold left behind by the rain.
“A walk?”
Fruit furrowed his brow for a fleeting second before smoothing it out with a nod.
“Sure.”
They stepped into the midnight silence. At this hour, not a single soul stirred on the streets. The shops lining both sides of the avenue were shuttered and dark, illuminated only by the intermittent glow of overhead streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement.
Their wet footsteps echoed hollowly in the empty corridors.
As they walked, Fein could sense the nervous energy coiling tightly inside Fruit. The server’s eyes began darting uncontrollably between Fein and the dark alleyways, his stride uneven and frantic, his fingers instinctively grazing the hem of his coat and his tied-back hair.
As they rounded a corner, both men opened their mouths at the exact same time.
“I’m sorry–”
“I wanted to ask–”
They froze, staring at each other for a beat before a sudden, lighthearted laughter broke free, instantly blowing away the rigid tension stiffening their frames. Fein extended a hand, gesturing for Fruit to take the lead.
“Um. I’m sorry about pulling Couri into it tonight.” Fruit began, his gaze dropping briefly to the pavement. “I know you said you had it under control, but…that guy looked really scary.”
“Mime?”
“Yeah.”
Fruit took a deep breath, his fingers grazing against the fabric of his jacket instinctively. “And you looked like you were a second away from snapping his neck. So I told Couri, I knew he’d find a way to intervene. Either way, I want to apologize if I overstepped or caused you trouble.”
Fein lowered his gaze to look down at the server.
Fruit was visibly nervous, lacking even the courage to meet his eyes. Instead, his gaze drifted downward, tracking the distorted reflections shimmering in the puddles along the wet street. His fingers were gripping the edge of his jacket so tightly that his knuckles turned white, making him look less like a seasoned waiter and more like a guilty child bracing himself for a reprimand.
The hot, fiery spike of frustration burning inside Fein sputtered out. He knew, deep down, Fruit was just trying to look out for him. The younger man always possessed a sharp, reliable instinct, and looking at him now, Fein realized it was well past the time he actually trusted it.
“It’s fine. I’m not angry.” Fein replied smoothly, the lingering edge of annoyance died in his chest as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “You were just trying to help. Beside…”
Fein tilted his head, a wry, bitter shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. “The argument was getting really heated. So I don’t blame you for pulling the fire alarm.”
Fruit let out a shaky, relieved breath, his shoulders finally dropping an inch.
“Thanks.”
The two of them slipped back to a comfortable silence, the rhythmic slap of their boots against the wet pavement filling the quiet air. Just as Fein opened his mouth to pivot the conversation toward the camera, Fruit spoke first.
“Are you married?”
What?
Fein blinked, his brain momentarily short-circuiting under the sheer absurdity of that sentence. What in the hell is that question?
“No?”
“Oh. I thought he was your ex-husband or something.”
Fein blinked, now even more confused.
“Why…would you think that?”
“Your ring.”
Fruit answered causally, tossing out the observation as if he were commenting on the weather. But the words hit Fein like a physical blow, freezing him dead in the tracks.
“His ring is the same as yours.”
Shit.
Panic surged through his veins, but years of syndicate training forced it down instantly, locking it behind a mask of outward calm while his mind raced to find a reasonable alibi.
That silver ring inset with polished lapis lazuli wasn’t just ordinary jewelry, but a token of high-ranking identity within Warden. Every operative above the rank of Guardian wore an identical piece. Craved into the inner rim of the lapis was their individual code name, hidden in plain sight. Twisting the center bezel, and the identity revealed itself; close it back up, and it looked like nothing more than an eccentric fashion accessory.
How in the hell did Fruit manage to catch that?
“It’s just a symbol of friendship.” Fein lied smoothly, his thumb instinctively brushing the cold metal inside his coat pocket. "We bought them when we graduated high school.”
“That’s cute.” Fruit nodded, taking the explanation at face value as he shoved his own hands into his pocket. “Didn’t expect you would do such a thing.”
Fein let out a dry huff, deciding it was time to steer the conversation away from his jewelry before Fruit’s terrifyingly sharp observational skills dug any deeper.
Who would have guessed that a simple bar server has instincts keener than a tack and eyes sharper than a hawk?
“Anyways, let’s talk about something more pressing.” Fein started, his voice dropping as he narrowed his eyes at the lime-haired man.
“Did you see those cameras in the bar?”
Fruit went quiet. The causal, breezy posture he had been holding stiffened just a fraction, the playful edge evaporating from his features as a guarded shutter came down over his eyes.
“You saw them too?” Fruit asked, his voice losing its usual bounce.
“Just one.” Fein muttered, adjusting his collar against the damp night air. “Behind the counter, tucked away on the syrup shelf.”
“Oh, man. There were definitely more than one. At least from what I stumbled across.”
Fein’s brow furrowed. “How many?”
“Five, at least. Scattered around the entire tavern, from the underside of the corner seats to the rafters back room.” Fruit listed as his stride slowed. “Not only cameras, but also microphones–”
Fein stopped dead in his tracks. “-Microphones?”
“Yeah.” Fruit confirmed, stepping closer under the dim amber glow of the overhead streetlamp. “I didn’t want to mess with them, but I’m pretty confident. I found two wired up, one stuck under table four and another hidden in the light right above the front entrance”
Fruit paused, his eyes darting cautiously around the empty street before locking back to Fein, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Do you think Couri placed them?”
“...There’s a high chance.”
Fein admitted quietly, nodding his head slightly and slowly. “I didn’t ask him about it, but if neither you nor I planted those…then he’s the only other person with complete access to those locations.”
“Why though?” Fruit asked, his brow furrowing as he stopped next to Fein. "Security? That seems a bit overboard for a neighborhood joint like HBG.”
“I’m not sure either. That’s why I want you to help me figure it out.”
Fruit blinked, pointing a thumb at his own chest.
“Me?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you familiar with tech and cybersecurity?”
“Uhh…you can say that, sure.” Fruit muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with an uncharacteristic awkwardness. “But knowing how a system works and breaking into a network are two entirely different ballgames, Fein.”
“Is it possible to hack inside the camera?” Fein pressed, ignoring his hesitation. “To intercept the feed and track where the data flows?”
Fruit threw his hands up in disbelief, a sharp laugh escaping his lips.
“What? Hacking isn’t just some movie magic where you type a few keys and say ‘I’m in’!” Fruit hissed, his voice rising in incredulity. “We don’t even know if those cameras and bugs are transmitting continuously. If they are recording 24/7 on a secure loop, the second we try to wire it, the admin level alert goes off and we’re toasted."
He didn’t stop there, his hands flying up to tick off the mounting obstacles.
“Besides, when are we supposed to find the time? While we’re working a shift? There’s no way. And Couri had the master keys to the front entrance, we can’t just bust in during closing time.”
Fruit took another breath, crossing his arms with a tense scowl. “Not to mention it’s practically illegal to hack into someone else’s surveillance network without permission. Are you trying to get me arrested??”
“Okay, okay. Relax bro. It’s just a suggestion.”
Fein offered a placating smile, raising his hands in a mock surrender while maintaining a causal tone. “So there’s no way?”
Fruit let out a heavy breath, wiping a hand down his face. “I mean, I’m also super uncomfortable with half a dozen lenses staring at my back while I pour drinks, but I’m not risking prison or my career for a suicide mission.”
“How about just tracking where the data flows?” Fein offered softly, stepping a fraction closer. “I just want to know who is watching.”
That made Fruit paused. He chewed the inside of his cheek, his gaze drifting to the damp pavement as the gears in his head turned.
“That's…a bit easier.” Fruit muttered, “At least it’s passive. But the issue of timing and equipment remains.”
Fein didn’t hesitate. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a low, earnest register that brooked no argument.
“What do you need?” He asked in genuine sincerity. “Give me the requirements, and I’ll secure cover.”
Fruit blinked, taken back by the sudden shift from causal banter to absolute dead seriousness. He blinked again, realizing Fein wasn’t about to drop this, he let out a long, accepting sigh.
“Well, first of all, time.” Fruit said, ticking a finger off in the cold air. “I need at least ten uninterrupted minutes near the router to hook up a diagnostic tap, pull the traffic packets, and trace the outgoing ip address. The actual decryption can be done later in private, but I need a solid window to harvest the initial data.”
He held up a second finger. “Second, a clean location. I need a dead zone, somewhere off the lens sweep. We can’t risk getting caught red-handed if those spycams were truly actively recording every minute.“
Fruit dropped his head, letting out a self-deprecating sigh as he averted Fein’s gaze.
“Lastly…I’m going to be completely honest.” Fruit murmured, casting a nervous glance down the empty street. “Silver is lightyears better than me at this kind of deep-dive tech work. I’m usually the field guy, you know? I know enough to run a basic packet sniffer and type a few routing commands, but that’s basically my limit. If we hit any sort of firewall or intrusion resistance, especially considering how fancy those cams were, it’s lowkey gg for us.”
Fein didn’t blink. Ten minutes, a hidden dead zone, and a glaring skill gap.
Fruit was right, at least about the surface logistics. Pulling this off inside the bar was near impossible. Couri had the master keys, functioning as the first to arrive and the last to leave. Inside, they had no leverage, no secure dead zones, and a terrifying margin of error if they hit counter intrusion that Fruit wasn’t equipped to bypass. It looked like a textbook dead mission.
But Fein wasn’t someone who would give up easily. The mental wheels inside his head ran in full capacity as he thought of a solution. Think, Feinberg. Think outside the box.
–Wait… Outside?
“What if we don’t need to do it inside the server room?”
“What?” Fruit stared at him, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “Are you even listening to me? We need physical access to the local router–”
“If those cameras are transmitting data out of the building, they have to route through somewhere,” Fein cut in, his mind racing ahead. ”They’re IP-based, feeding a remote receiver. That means they have to aggregate through a local relay point. A hardline junction box. We can tap in from there.”
Fruit’s mouth parted slightly. “That’s…also profoundly, massively illegal?”
“Is it technically possible? Just answer me that.”
“Well, yes. But–”
“Good.” Fein interrupted again, a calculated edge sliding into his voice. “I know a main terminal box servicing this entire block. Tucked away in the alleyway behind the tavern. It’s isolated, completely out of line with any cameras, and it’s entirely dead quiet after three in the morning.”
Fruit’s jaw tightened. “That alley junction? Are you insane? It’s hardwired straight into the city grid! Tapping that without tripping a regional circuit breaker is–”
“-Child’s play if you know the bypass codes,” Fein finished, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, sharp certainty.
Fruit swallowed hard. The causal bartender mask was completely gone now, replaced by the stark realization that the quiet, weary guy that wiped down counters was harboring a terrifying depth when pushed into a corner.
“You…you know the bypass codes?” Fruit asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Let’s just say I have some connections to the city’s corporate security.” Fein lied without missing a beat, keeping his true syndicate ties beneath a half-truth. He reached out, giving Fruit’s shoulder a firm, grounding squeeze. “You take commissions on the side, right? Just think of this as a high-tier gig. Name your price, I’ll cover it.”
Fruit looked at him, his eyes darting frantically across Fein’s face, searching for a joke, a bluff, or any sign of hesitation. Finding none, a slow, nervous laugh broke through his lips.
“I’m not taking suicide runs, Fein! This shit is denfinity fucking illegal!”
“It’s only a crime if you get caught.” Fein smirked, ignoring Fruit’s baffled expression entirely. “Come on. Don’t act like you’ve never skirted the law to prove a point.”
“You are out of your absolute mind.”
“You said it yourself, you know how to run the packets. It’s low risk, passive, and mutually beneficial for both of us.”
“You...”
Fruit hesitated, his hands twitching nervously against the hem of his jacket as the gears ran in full capacity in his head. The risk was astronomical, a razor edge between cutting ties clean or slipping into a trap from which there was no return. Yet, the creeping dread of being watched 24/7 by an unknown entity was worse. It was a lose-lose situation, either take a desperate gamble to clear the haze, or risk being slowly dragged down into the corporate abyss.
Fuck it. When was life ever anything but a gamble?
“Fine.” He conceded, his voice dropping into a low, resolute murmur. “But I can’t fly blind on this. I need to consult with Silver, run some diagnostics, and do a quick reconnaissance of the alley junction beforehand.”
“Okay.” Fein said, stepping back and pulling his hands off Fruit’s shoulder, barely suppressing the victorious, smug smile on his face. “When can you give me an answer?”
“Give me three days.”
“No, that’s too long. Tell me by tomorrow.”
“You. are. unsavable.”
Fruit rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, running a hand down his face as he let out a dramatic, long suffering groan. “FINE. Tomorrow it is.”
“You’re the best.”
“I fucking hate you.”
Fruit shot him one final, venomous glare, though the sharp edge of panic had entirely melted into bitter resignation. He pulled his coat tighter around his neck, turned on his heel, and stalked off down damp pavement, throwing a lighthearted curse over his shoulder.
“I hope you get robbed on your way home!”
Fein watched him go until the lime-haired server’s disgruntled muttering was swallowed whole by the shadows of the empty avenue. A soft, genuine breath of laughter escaped him, his head shaking slightly as he slipped his hands back into his pockets and turned toward his own quarters.
You too, Fruit. You too.