Chapter Text
Spinning.
Everything was spinning.
Prescott sat up and groaned in pain, his head thumping. He opened his eyes groggily, his vision slightly blurry. He tried to take note of his surroundings; rusty bars in front of him, gray grimy looking walls around him. He was still in the same clothes he was in while working at the Floatyard…
‘That’s it! The Floatyard!’ Prescott thought. That's where he was before. All his memories came back to him in a flash; his confrontation with Mickey, Oswald and Gus, his attack on them, the Mad Doc showing up.. But what happened after that? His mind was a blur.
Prescott shakily stood up, his head pulsing with near unbearable pain. He used his right arm to support himself while he tried to regain his balance.
“Well, look who’s finally awake again.”
Prescott yelped and looked up. On the other side of the bars stood the one and only Big Bad Pete; the original Pete, as he called himself. He was tapping his foot and swinging his keys around his index finger.
“Heh, you sure were sayin’ some odd nonsense earlier.” He chuckled to himself.
“W-wha-?” Prescott croaked, his throat dry. He must’ve been asleep for a while for his voice to be this messed up.
“I gotta say, attackin’ Mickey and Oswald wasn’t yer smartest idea. Not that you’ve e’er had any bright ideas…”
Prescott grumbled in annoyance, before acknowledging the fact that he was clearly in a jail cell.
“Where am I?” Prescott asked, looking around.
“Welcome to’da city hall. Or as dem’ normies call it, Mean Street’s prison.”
‘The Mad Doc.’
Prescott’s mind twitched at Doc’s mentioning. Something wasn’t right. No, no! He never meant for everything to end up like this! Doc had promised him that he would succeed! Prescott’s chest heaved, and his mind raced. He knew this could be fixed, he just knew it! He isn’t the villain here, it's…
“I need to see Gus.” Prescott’s head whipped up. Pete scoffed and raised his eyebrows.
“You ain’t seein him unless he visits ya. From all I heard, you’re gonna be locked up in’ere a while. But ey, I’ve seen what’cha can do, and so’ve my friends. We might just borrow ya later for a lil’ plan of our own..” He chuckled deeply.
Pete strolled away, swinging his keys around. Prescott felt uneasy at the bizarre comment, and tried to brush it off even though it felt like a subtle threat.
‘No! Gus will never visit me after everything that’s happened. I’ve got to get out of here…’
He whipped his head around until he noticed a vent on the ceiling. He turned back towards the bars, listening out for Pete. His footsteps had stopped and Prescott heard the clicking of buttons before Pete started talking.
“Yea, he’s here. Well no, I can’t get the lil guy out yet, he jus’ got here. Oh, quit your yappin, I’ll get ‘em out when I can! Whatever. Anyways, how’re the others? Yeah, I figured…”
Pete’s voice faded out. He was clearly on the phone, and it sounded like he’d walked outside. Hopefully his call would be long enough for Prescott to break out.
Prescott had helped design and construct lots of buildings in Mean Street with the other gremlins long ago, and knew gremlin architecture like the back of his hand. Any sort of lock built by gremlins would be easy for him to crack.
He walked forward to the door and crouched down, examining the lock.
‘Yep. Just as I thought.’
The lock was a typical gremlin-style vault lock, and Prescott knew how to unlock it with a simple paperclip. Reaching into his belt, he felt around until he found a small pin. It would work.
The lock dropped to the floor, making a much louder CLANG than Prescott had estimated. He quickly opened the door and looked around, noticing a window to his right. He quietly ran down the short hall and opened the window, climbing out feet-first.
He crouched down behind the building, heart racing. Anyone could see him, and easily report him back to Pete. He knew he had to be careful. But most importantly, he knew he had to find Gus.
‘How am I ever going to find him though? He’s always off with Mickey and Oswald, acting as their personal Wasteland guide or something. They could be anywhere right now!’
Prescott huffed, clenching his fists with frustration. He thought for a few moments. Who would know where they would be…?
‘...Ugh.’
He grumbled and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, there was someone he knew, someone who had been keeping up with Mickey and Oswald’s shenanigans recently. Jamface.
~
After sneaking onto a train to Mean Street North, Prescott finally found him. Jamface was working away at the windmill next to the projectors, piles of scrap metal surrounding him. Prescott couldn’t help but think how he could’ve built the windmill much better then Jamface ever could.
‘No time for pettiness. I might hate him, but he’s the best option.’
Prescott shook his head and groaned, sneaking through an alleyway to get near Jamface. When he was close enough and Jamface was busy searching for a screwdriver, he quickly sprinted behind the windmill and ducked down.
He looked around him and found a rusty can, grabbing it and swiftly tossing it towards one of the windmill’s sails and causing a few pieces of metal to fall off. Jamface yelped and almost tripped backwards, and Prescott had to hold in his laughter. As funny as it was, Prescott actually didn’t mean to hit it that hard.
Jamface flew up to the cap of the windmill, looking at the damaged sail with curiosity and mild frustration.
“Something’s wrong with the sails again? I thought I fixed them..” He mumbled to himself, hovering over to examine the damaged sail.
“Hm, my inventions wouldn’t fall apart that easily.” Prescott mumbled to himself a bit too loud.
Unfortunately, Jamface heard. He peered around the side of the windmill, and Prescott’s eyes shot up to look at him. The two made uncomfortable eye contact for a few seconds, before Jamface realized who he was looking at.
“What the- Prescott!?” Jamface stuttered, almost forgetting how to fly.
Prescott reached out and grabbed Jamface by the leg, pulling him behind the windmill and shushing him. He looked around frantically, making sure no one saw.
“Wha- Y-you’re supposed to be in prison! Get off me!” He scowled, pushing Prescott away.
“Shut- ugh, just hear me out for one second!” Prescott hissed, trying to calm him down. Jamface eventually stopped squirming and stared at Prescott with clear hatred.
Jamface’s eyes were like daggers, and his brutal glare was a reminder that Jamface hated Prescott just as much as Prescott hated Jamface. Prescott sighed, clenching his fists. He felt pathetic asking this imbecile for any sort of favor, but he needed this.
“Look, I know we’re on rough terms right now, but I need your help.”
“Are you kidding me? You are a fugitive, the most well known one in all of Wasteland! Why would I ever help you!?” Prescott grimaced. The news really did spread fast.
“Please, I never ask you for anything. I need-”
“Yeah, you never even talk to me because you never leave Ostown!”
“Oh, shut up! Whenever we did talk we just fought.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
“Don’t blame it all on me!”
“Well I do blame you! You started every argument because you just HAD to make a petty comment on every little thing I did.”
“Oh, whatever! Can we just focus?”
“I don’t care what you ask, I’m not helping you.”
“Wha- I haven’t even ask-”
“Ok, fine, what do you need?”
“Uugh, why do you act like this!? Whatever.. I just need you to tell me where-”
“No.”
Prescott’s eye twitched and his teeth clenched; he had to resist the strong urge to strangle the little twerp. He sighed and took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes at Jamface, who was sneering at him.
“Look, just.. What will it take to get you to tell me where Gus is?” Prescott urged. Jamface raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you need to know where he is? Do you want to attack him again or something!? Ew, you psycho..”
“What? No! I just- ergh, I just need to talk to him! About the Mad Doc, and how he isn’t as good as everyone thinks he is.” Prescott admitted. Jamface seemed to perk up at the name.
“You don’t trust him either?” Jamface exclaimed, his demeanor totally changing. Prescott nodded.
“Why? What happened?”
“None of your business. Just tell me where Gus is!” Jamface looked offended, and crossed his arms.
“I won’t tell you unless you tell me what you know about the Mad Doctor.” Jamface huffed. Prescott grumbled, and thought for a moment.
He concluded that telling Jamface about his experience wouldn’t hurt; in fact, it might even get some weight off his chest. As much as he hated Jamface, the two did used to be somewhat close, back when their cousin Markus was still around.
“Fine. But do you promise to tell me where he is?”
“Oui.”
~
“...Wow.”
Jamface and Prescott were both sitting on the floor, backs against the cold metal of the windmill’s base. Prescott was fidgeting with the button on his left glove, and Jamface watched.
“So you were never really.. evil?” Jamface questioned.
“I was just mad. Or no, jealous is a better word.. Jealous Gus gave you all the attention and left me to operate a pointless factory in a town no one visits.” Prescott mumbled.
Jamface nodded, acting surprisingly sympathetic towards the misunderstood gremlin.
“It doesn’t excuse what I did though, and I know that. But I know I can fix it. If I warn Gus, Mickey and Oswald of the Doc’s plan, maybe they can stop him before he does anything truly bad.” Prescott sighed. The two sat in silence for a few moments.
Jamface slowly traced circles into the dirt beneath them, glancing at Prescott a few times. Prescott, for once, sounded genuine. After him being a shut off, bitter person for so long, something about his words now sounded so real. Jamface took a risk and decided to trust him.
“...They’re in Autotopia.”
“What?”
“Mickey, Gus and Oswald.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Jamface looked at Prescott expectantly. Prescott met his gaze, seeming confused. Jamface smiled, and looked away.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just.. I don’t know. You haven’t sounded this genuine in ages. It took you getting used and manipulated to finally open up to me..” Jamface admitted. Prescott tried to hide his smile.
“I missed you.” Prescott confessed.
“I missed you too.” Jamface said. Prescott smiled.
“Y’know, thanks for trusting me. It would’ve been easy for you to just teleport away and get Pete to take me back.” Prescott admitted. Jamface shrugged.
“Honestly.. I was intrigued. I saw you being taken to prison by Pete, and I knew they couldn’t keep you in there for long. You’d obviously find a way to escape.”
“You know me too well,” Prescott smirked, standing up.
Just before Prescott left, Jamface grabbed his arm.
“Hey.”
Prescott turned around.
“What?”
“Be careful. Really. If you get recognized, people probably won’t take long to tell Pete."
Prescott nodded. Jamface stood up and brushed himself off., dusting off the dirt stuck to his dark purple clothes. He looked back at Prescott, who was peeking around the corner to make sure the coast was clear for him to make it to the Ventureland projector without being spotted.
“You might be a criminal, but you’re still my brother!” Jamface smirked. Prescott rolled his eyes and grinned while walking away.
He knew he had a lot to fix, but hearing Jamface call him his brother again made him feel amazing.
Maybe he didn’t really hate his brother… Maybe he just missed him.
“No but seriously, when this is over I’m telling everyone that you came to me for help! After all your snarky comments on how you ‘work better alone’ and then you come to me, your brother, out of all people, to ask for help! That sounds so pathetic, especially for you!”
No, he still hated him.