Work Text:
Turbo really had through he was doing the right thing by the Jocks. In the beginning anyway. They were scared, they were confused and they needed a leader who would tell them what to do, get them through this.
That had been at the start, and they settled into a new normal as quickly and as fuss-free as teenagers could do anything. And then they had had something to protect. A society that was clinging to stability by the tips of its fingernails, but a society that kept everyone inside it safe, and secure in the knowledge that the next day would follow on the same as this one.
And anyone who threatened what they’d built had to be put down. For everybody’s safety.
Because Turbo doesn’t realise he’s done the wrong thing, doesn’t notice he’s gone too far until Wesley leaves. And by that time, it’s too late. He can’t change. Because at the beginning the Jocks had just beens scared kids, and now they’re tough and resilient and they know their place on the world. And they needed a leader, and he is their leader, it’s his job to look after them, and what they need most is consistency. Security.
So Turbo provided that. He kept on doing what he was doing, even when it meant that Wesley left him for what he’d become. Because it wasn’t about him, it was about the Jocks, and Turbo had known since he was a kid that it wasn’t really important what he wanted for himself, so long as the other kids were being looked after. He was a secondary concern at best, and Wesley leaving him, him getting his heart broken, he just pushed it to the back of his mind, the same way he did for every time his dad did the same.
The Jocks ended up betraying him anyway.
He probably should have seen that coming. No one ever wanted to be around him long.
********************
Sometimes people seem to forget that just because Turbo can’t speak, that doesn’t mean that he can’t hear. They say all kinds of things about him; which wouldn’t bother him so much, except that they say all kinds of things about Wesley too, by association. And that just won’t do, so he smacks the side of his fist against the shutters that keep him locked inside the toy shop, and he grunts his displeasure when he hears it, and they look at him like he’s a wild and pitiable animal; a lion rattling it’s steel cage, like the ones that used to be kept in zoos before people decided that animals had rights. And Turbo is ok with that, as long as it gets them to shut up about Wesley.
********************
The first words Angelica ever says to him are “don’t kill Wesley.”
Turbo had been vaguely aware of her from the time that she spent selling slime at his school, but they never actually interacted. Although he would occasionally indulge with Wesley when it was the easiest way to get him to smile, drugs were never really Turbo’s thing. His dad always said they were for the weak, and even though he knows intellectually that that’s just some judgemental boomer shit, Turbo could never bear to disappoint him and use anything regularly.
So “don’t kill Wesley” are the first words Angelica ever says to him, and Turbo has a moment to be indignant that she would think that he would ever hurt him before she continues. “But he told me you don’t like to write because you’re not a good speller.” She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a phone in a solar charging case. Waves it in his face. “Obviously you can’t use it to text or anything, because there’s no way to pay the connection fee. Post-apocalypse, and we’re still being fucked over by late-stage capitalism. But it has autocorrect, and no one bothers to spell their texts properly anyway. Unless they’re grandparents or in their mid-to-late 20s, and they’re all ghoulies or dead now, so it’s not like they’re in a place to judge.” Angelica laughs, but it’s clearly forced, and she’s rambling, that is painfully obvious.
But Turbo looks into her eyes, and he doesn’t see fear. Perhaps, more, wariness. Acknowledgement of danger. Because Turbo promised Wesley that he that he wouldn’t hurt any of the Daybreakers, and even though he’s not about to go full pacifist any time soon because someone still needs to protect Wesley, Angelica is not under any sort of threat from him. Her worry is more personal, he can sense it. That she’s scared that he will take Wesley away from what they have built here, and he can respect that.
It had always bothered him that the Jocks had been afraid of him, even though he knows that that it was the only thing that kept their fragile society together. Even Wesley had shied away from him in the end, and the little flash in his eyes as he pulled away led to a heavy ball of anger and shame that settled into his gut. Turbo had wished more than ever that he could be like his dad. Because he had never been bothered that Turbo had resented him, just a little. It only helped him to focus on the bigger picture.
So it endears Angelica to him, that she is only worried about how much Wesley and Turbo mean to each other. That she can see it, clear as day. That she thinks that there is a not-insignificant chance that Wesley would choose him, if it came down to it. He snatches the phone off her, rather than grunting at her to go away.
“It makes me feel stupid.” He types into the phone, and she’s right. It’s easier like this, with a smart phone having his back. “I’m not stupid.” He hands the phone back.
Angelica stares at the text for long enough that Turbo starts to feel restless, keyed up for a fight. And then: “you know?” Angelica says softly. “Pretty recently I primed and launched a missile. And I don’t know anything about football, so.” She pauses, and Turbo leans forward a little. She shurgs. “We’ve all got our own thing.”
And Turbo finds himself smiling he first real smile he’s given anyone but Wesley in what feels like a lifetime.
********************
Turbo never uses the phone to talk to Wesley. It’s a point of pride, almost, that they can communicate so clearly without it. It makes his heart squeeze soft and slow when Wesley looks at him and just knows what’s on his mind. He doesn’t use it with the Witch, either. He’d thought about it briefly, with how often he sees her, but she talks at him and he barely even makes a sound, and why mess with a good thing? It works for them well enough.
It’s really for the rest of the tribe. Sometimes Josh, but if he’s being honest, every day that he doesn’t have to see Josh is a good day. Mainly, it’s Angelica. They have to keep the phone on the roof so it can charge, and Angelica brings it down with her every few days for a chat. She’s easy to talk to. Incredibly judgemental, but in a consistent way. Turbo knows he can trust her to actually say what she thinks, like he could with Mona. He misses her.
“Why do you have all these empty photo frames with Generic Attractive Man in them?” Angelica asks. She looks around the toy shop, where Turbo has six of the photo frames that his dad modelled for stashed. Wesley had grabbed them for him in one of his wanders through the abandoned stores. Turbo didn’t really need more than one, but it was a sweet gesture, so he keeps them around. “Is it some kind of gay thing?”
Turbo snorts out a little laugh. Sounds are easier to make through his nose, but they are unfortunately limited. “Nah.” He types back to her. “He’s my dad.”
Angelica tips her head to one side. “So it’s some kind of broken home, abandonment things?” She shrugs. “That’s a little sad, but I get it. My mom was away a lot too.”
Turbo appreciates that she’s sharing something with him, but he still feels the little stab of anger he knows so well, from when people imply he’s being less than truthful. It makes him feel like a child, small and alone in his own house, only the cleaner a few rooms away. “No.” He taps out. “He’s really my dad.”
Angelica reads it with a wry smile on her face. “Your dad was a picture frame model?”
“And an activist.” Turbo writes back. “And a-“ he wants to say philanthropist, but not even autocorrect can save him now. He deletes the “a”. “And he helped kids all around the world.”
“That’s a weird thing to lie about.” Angelica says, and Turbo yanks his arm back with a growl, holds the screen up close to his face.
“It’s not a lie!” He almost punches out into the phone. “What does everyone always think it’s a lie?” He thrusts his arm back out, the phone screen nearly smashing against the shutters.
Angelica shrugs, not intimidated. “Because it’s a weirder thing to be true.” She says, and Turbo supposes he can see the truth in that, ironic as that may be. “So, he travelled a lot?
Turbo nods, but he does not want to get into it. He knows, intellectually, how he’s supposed to feel about his dad leaving him all the time,. But he can’t quite manage it, except in his weakest moments. And he just doesn’t feel like he can explain why. “Tell me about your mom.” He types instead.