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Greaser Jones knew that by hanging out with Julian Tanner, there was a high chance that he would find himself hurtling off the side of a building. He had, in his downtime, prayed to whatever gods kept an eye on this godforsaken (hah) city that it would be a small building in low city at the very least.
Of course, there were no gods in Areo City, and he was in fact staring directly at Julian as the idea to jump out the window crossed both of their minds- two brain cells hitting the corner of the metaphorical TV at once.
The mechs behind him shift, gears turning as the first one out of the elevator charges up his cannon and aims at Julian, firing a shot just to the left of him. It shifts again, bringing its other arm down to crush him but the man was just too fast as he slings an arm around Greaser, pulling him into a run at the window.
Greaser covers his head as Julian plows through the glass, shards flying as they leap from the skyscraper, beginning their plummet of 100ft to the pavement below. Greaser’s scream cuts out as he pulls open his bag and dives into it, Julian hot on his heels as they close it behind them- a bag of holding, large enough to easily accommodate the both of them. Julian wraps his arms around Greaser and their velocity slows just slightly.
“Ohmygod-” Greaser laughs, grabbing Julian’s face. “Bro- can I kiss you? No homo, that was just cool as shit.”
“Yeah man.” Julian responds, and the two share a quick bro-kiss. Just as homies.
Then the bag hits the ground, jostling the contents inside. Julian’s slowing ability helped cushion the impact a lot, and Greaser leans back and cackles. “Take THAT, Orin! Sick fool thought he had us!”
Julian holds his hand up for a high five, triumphant, when three loud crashes come from outside of the bag. The two freeze.
“The robots followed us.” Julian whispers, eyes wide.
“Yep.” Greaser laughs nervously. “If they break this bag we get transported to the Astral Plane. And I don’t know how to get back from the Astral Plane.”
“I don’t even want to know what that is.” Julian groans.
Greaser shakes his head, placing a hand on Julian’s shoulder and muttering an incantation. “There. That should let you tank some damage- let me just level the playing field a little-” He sticks his hand outside of the bag, squinting and casting another spell- ‘Grease’, his favorite.
One of the three mechs topple over, but the others manage to keep their footing, now with a new target in sight. Before Greaser can realize, the mech swings its blade arm down, slicing cleanly through his hand.
He pulls his arm to his chest, sucking in a deep, strained breath. Greaser stares down at his rapidly bleeding wound, shock quickly setting in as his skin pales and his head spins.
“Greaser- holy shit.” Julian stares down at his nub. He reaches out to try and close the wound as a motorcycle growls nearby, jostling the both of them as it gets picked up. “Hold on, Greaser, we’re getting out of here.”
With that he climbs out of the bag, letting a fresh gust of air in. Greaser fights the urge to throw up, the combination of the air and watching High City rush by as they zip through making his vision spotty.
After some rustling, Connor climbs into the bag, clamming up immediately at the sight of Greaser. “Jamie-”
Jamie whimpers as Connor glances around the inside of the bag, grabbing Jamie’s medical kit and pulling out a thick roll of gauze. Connor concentrates as he starts to wrap the stump of his arm, packing it tightly. “It’s okay. Julian’s bringing you to his uh- his guy, I guess. I kinda drove a motorcycle with Gabi- we didn’t crash, thankfully.” Connor rambles, trying to keep Jamie conscious as their eyelids start to droop. “Come on, keep hanging on.”
“I jack off with this hand.” Jamie whines, sluggishly flailing the stump around. “I don’t have a hand to- to jerk it with anymore.”
“I- well, I’m sure you can figure something out, Jamie.” Connor blinks tears from his eyes, watching as blood starts to seep through the wrappings. “We’ll figure it out after this is all over, mkay?”
Jamie mumbles something, his eyes rolling back into his head. Connor pulls his body close to his chest, pressing a kiss to his head as they race onwards to Julian’s mechanic.
Connor carries Jamie out of the bag when they arrive, rushing after Julian as he opens the door to the mechanic shop. It was certainly neater than Jamie’s shop, ran by an older looking man with a beard who looked shocked and somewhat annoyed at the intrusion.
“Hey-” Julian starts, looking slightly awkward. “Sorry I didn’t call- my friend-”
The man glances at Connor and Greaser, raising an eyebrow and beckoning them into the back of the shop, clearing off a table. Connor lays Greaser down on the table, smoothing his hair back from his sweat covered forehead. He could vaguely hear Julian talking to the man- Anthony- in the background, just focused on Greaser’s weak breaths as the mechanic got to work.
–
It took a while. Jamie faded in and out of consciousness until he was given something to keep him down- a pained grimace stuck on his face even in sleep. Julian helped finally staunch the bleeding as Anthony worked on piecing together a new hand, the two working in tandem like it was familiar.
They worked into the late night, finally calling it quits around 2am to get some food. Connor opted to stay behind, giving his keys to Gabi so she could get into Greaser’s shop and grab them all clothes.
He pulls a stool up alongside the table Jamie was on, gently carding his fingers through their hair, steadying them as he tosses in his sleep. After a moment, Jamie’s eyes blink open, darting wildly around the shop. They go to push himself into a sitting position but cries out as they irritate his injury.
“Hey, shh. Lay back, it’s ok. You’re safe.” Connor gently guides him back down. “Do you need anything? Water? Blankets?”
Jamie groans, smacking at Connor’s hands with his good arm. “Fuck. I thought today was just a fucked up dream. Fuck.”
Connor rests his hands in his lap, unsure of what to do. “Yeah. I’m really sorry. I should’ve gone up instead.”
“No. If you were up there, we wouldn’t have escaped as easily.” Jamie stares at the stump of his hand, then sighs. “Fuck. I should’ve just casted from the bag, huh?”
”I- I guess?” Connor sighs. “I don’t- I couldn’t really see what happened, but it looked like that was the best choice you could’ve made.”
“The best choice in a series of bad decisions.” Jamie mumbles to themself. “Whatever. I can just- I can put another gun in this hand or something. Built in screwdriver or something. Fuck. I’m sorry, Connor, you shouldn’t have to- to be here.” Jamie turns away, tears burning in the corners of his eyes.
Connor hesitantly rests a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, not pulling away as the man stiffens. “I want to be here, Jamie. Can’t you see that? I’m always here. I am.”
Jamie blinks furiously, but tears roll down his face. “Shut up. You don’t mean that.”
“I do- how much more do I have to prove it?” Connor takes Jamie’s other hand in his, squeezing the prosthetic gently. “I haven’t left unless you asked me. Even when you’re- well, cruel. Even when you’re hurtling out of buildings with Julian- which was I mean- crazy. It was crazy, but you did it anyway. Because you’re Greaser Jones. You’re cool in a way that I don’t think I can ever be.” Connor’s blubbering at this point, his own tears rolling down his face. “Just- just believe me when I say I care. I care about you and your cause, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Jamie doesn’t say anything. He pulls his hand from Connor’s and wipes at his face, smearing around blood, sweat, and his own tears. His normally somewhat golden skin was sickly and pallid, and he leans over the other side of the table to throw up into a bucket.
Connor moves to hold his hair back, rubbing circles into his back. He pulls a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at Jamie’s mouth, gently guiding him back to a laying position when he stops heaving.
Jamie clings to him like an anchor, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. Footsteps and the sound of a door opening and closing, as well as the sounds of takeout bags rustling alert them both to the return of Julian and Anthony.
Julian is the first to come into the back room, setting a bag from the closest diner next to Connor. “How’s he holding up?”
“He’s in a lot of pain.” Connor mumbles.
“I’ll get him something for that. You should sleep, though.” Julian pats his back. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“I’m not leaving him.” He doesn’t look up at Julian, just continuing to stroke Greaser’s hair.
Julian hums thoughtfully, but heads instead to where Anthony was working on the replacement. “Sure, man. But make sure to eat.”
“Yeah. I will.”