Dorado

A/N: Another chapter! Just as a note, I don't particularly like replying to review questions in author notes, and I don't think I'm supposed to? If you're just leaving a general review, thank you! If you've got a crushing question, direct it to: misol. tumblr. com. So far there's only been 1 reviewer, so this isn't really too big an issue...

Lisa: Haha, yes, his life has been pretty crappy so far. That’s soon to change! Or not.

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chapter four
  

          Beck rapped his knuckles against the door and stepped back. The hotel accommodations were pleasant enough, but everything was so uniform. He could hardly tell this floor apart from his own. He stared at the silver three-oh-three numbering on the wall, listening with an intent ear to the noises coming from inside the room. A few clatters and muffled curses later the door swung open.

           “Hey,” Jonathan greeted, breathing heavily. His clothes were in disarray and his shirt was half unbuttoned. Beck raised a brow.

           “Oh,” Jonathan stepped back to let Beck pass. “I was just about to take a shower…”

           “I can come back later,” Beck offered even as he stepped past Jonathan into the room. The covers on the plain queen bed were already mused and untucked. A large duffel sat open on the dresser, clothes piled haphazardly beside it.

           “Why don’t you take a seat?” Jonathan gestured toward the few chairs in the room. “I’ll just change and we can leave.”

          Beck settled into one of the bat-winged chairs. The room was furnished identical to his…except he didn’t have an extra door. He leaned slightly over the arm of the chair, trying to see through the open doorway, but the bathroom door popped open and Beck immediately straightened. Jonathan stepped out wearing only a pair of dark slacks. Without a shirt, his shoulders and chest seemed broader than Beck had originally imagined. His eyes ran over the man’s defined torso enviously. Nothing Beck ever did gave him abs that defined.

           “Oi!” Jonathan shouted towards the open doorway. “Get your clothes, you lazy arse.” He dumped a pile of cloth outside the bathroom and disappeared back inside. Beck continued staring even after Jonathan closed the door behind himself.

          What…?

          There was a faint sound of shuffling and then heavy footsteps. Mason stood in the doorway, running a hand over his short blond hair. The sleeves of the man’s hoodie were pushed up above his elbows and the bottom edges of his jeans scraped across the carpet as Mason padded over to the bathroom, bending at the waist to snatch up the clothes. As he straightened he caught sight of Beck and his face twisted into a scowl. His eyes drilled angrily into Beck’s for a few moments before he turned on his heel and stormed back to his own room, slamming the door closed.

          The man could have been as rude as he wanted to be because Beck stopped breathing as soon as their eyes met. Framed by pale lashes were the brightest blue eyes. Samantha’s eyes. Beck forced out a shaky breath.

          No, he shook his head. Samantha’s eyes were never that hateful. I’m just seeing things. Just-. Seeing things.

          Beck rubbed his hands across his jean clad thighs.

          They must be a couple if they got connected rooms. It would certainly explain why Mason doesn’t want me around. Possessive snot. He snorted. And it certainly explains why Jonathan was so out of breath and why Mason’s clothes were in his bathroom.

          Beck felt a blush creep across his cheeks at the thought. Geez, get a hold of yourself, Beck! You’re not a fucking virgin, why are you blushing

          He tugged uncomfortably at the color of his jacket; the brown corduroy fabric suddenly felt too itchy against his throat.

           “You all right there?”

          Beck jumped, not having heard Jonathan emerge from the bathroom. The older man was dressed rather formally, having donned a pale cream polo.

           “Yeah,” Beck cleared his throat. “Got a place in mind?”

           “We passed this place down the street on the way here and it looked decent so I thought we could give it a go.” Jonathan shuffled through the items on the dresser, gathering his wallet and cell.

          Beck stood and followed him to the door, brushing a hand down his tee and jacket. They paused by the door that led to Mason’s room and Jonathan gave it a few harsh knocks. It abruptly swung open and Mason caught Jonathan’s wrist before his knuckles could come in contact with his face, much to Beck’s disappointment.

           “Sorry,” Jonathan said absently and turned to open his room door. “We all ready?”

           “Yes, Mum,” Mason grumbled, pushing roughly past Beck to step into the hallway. Jonathan shot Beck an apologetic look when Mason was turned away and Beck offered back a small grimace. How he could put up with the blonde, much less date him, was beyond Beck.

          It was a short walk to the restaurant which, to Beck’s surprise, was actually a small pub. He slid into the booth across from the other two men, shooting wary glances around the bar. It was characteristically dim and shady figures huddled over liquor at the bar. Beck picked up the menu and tried to ignore the stares in their direction. Jonathan, however, didn’t seem to notice and grinned widely at both of them.

           “Not bad, huh?” He said, raising a hand and gesturing at a waitress. She bustled over, giving them all what she probably assumed was a seductive look.

           “What’ll you have, boys?”

          Beck shifted away when she leaned over, exposing her cleavage.

           “Classic burger and beer, thanks,” he handed her the menu. She gave him another once over before turning to Mason and Jonathan.

           “Steak and potatoes and… a scotch ale.”

           “Make that two,” Mason decided and slid his menu across the stained surface of the wooden table. The waitress gave them a wink, walking away with a sway in her hips. Beck snorted under his breath when Mason leered after her.

           Mason turned to glare at him but Jonathan cut in before he could bite out a cutting remark.

           “So, Beck,” he leaned back as the waitress placed their drinks in front of them. “Where are you from?”

          Beck took a sip of the cold beer and frowned at the bland taste. “The States.”

           “That makes sense,” Jonathan agreed. “Your accent is…different.”

          Mason snorted into his ale.

           “The both of you are from around here?”

           “France, actually. But we’ve spent the past few years here.”

          They lapsed into an awkward silence. The waitress returned shortly with their meals, dropping the plates haphazardly onto the table.

           “Enjoy,” she waggled her fingers at Mason.

          Beck picked up a fry and popped it into his mouth. “What are you guys here for?”

           “The film,” Mason grunted around a mouthful of meat.

          He rolled his eyes. Thank You, Mr. Obvious.

           “Actor. Star. Whatever you want,” Jonathan’s light brown eyes crinkled in amusement as he shoveled some potato into his mouth. Beck took a bite from his own burger.

           “Camera guy,” he returned when he’d swallowed.

          Jonathan’s face lit up in surprise. “Really? Same as this grouchy guy.” He elbowed Mason gently and the man glared back.

          Beck’s stomach sunk a little at the thought of being stuck with the short-tempered man for an extended period of time, but he brushed it away. It’s not like he was much better company.

          Jonathan sliced through his steak and speared the meat with his fork. “We’ve actually just come straight from Australia.”

          The burger paused halfway to his mouth. “Really?” he said, interested. “What’s it like down there?”

           “Half of it is exactly as they say: charred and desolate. The rest is actually pretty much the same if you ignore the heat spikes.”

          Beck reached for the catsup jar and upended it over his plate. “Vacation?”

          Mason suddenly burst into laughter. “Are you serious?” he chortled. “You’re an idiot. No one goes anywhere for vacation anymore unless they’re interested in seeing burned up buildings and gigantic craters, which they can see right from the comfort of their own home.”

          Shocked, Jonathan lowered his fork and knife. “Mason,-.”

          Beck held up a hand. “Don’t worry; it’s obvious his diaper hasn’t been changed yet.”

          The table shook when Mason slammed his fists down onto it. “What?”

           “Whoa, all right, no need to get riled up,” Jonathan intervened, casting a wary glance toward the other patrons. A few had gotten to their feet and many were watching them in blatant interest, no doubt hoping to join a bar fight.

          Beck pushed his nearly-finished plate away, no longer hungry. Taking a long gulp of beer, he turned towards Mason. “My apologies,” he said, but his words were thick with sarcasm and Mason grit his teeth in anger.

           “Accepted,” he spat. The other customers turned away, grumbling under their breaths in disappointment.

  
&
  

          The sun had barely risen when Beck shuffled into the lobby. Cynthia was already there, flitting about from person to person and giving greetings. Beck maneuvered his way through the relatively large crowd, recognizing a few faces but steering clear of both them and Cynthia. Jonathan and Mason weren’t around, to his relief. He didn’t need to see the grumpy man anymore than necessary.

           “All right, everybody,” Cynthia called out nearby. “If I could have your attention please!”

           The large crowd slowly quieted down and all eyes turned toward the slight woman.”

           “Thank you. Now, the general schedule for the next few months is fairly simple. We’re going to stay here in Europe for the next three weeks and then we’re all going to take a flight over to the Yukon. How long we’re going to stay there is still undecided, but it should be only a few weeks and then we’re right back here to finish filming.”

           “Why don’t we wait until the end to go to Canada? Wouldn’t that be easier?” a voice called out. Out of the corner of his eye Beck saw two familiar figures edge into the room. They paused before beginning to slowly make their way towards Beck.

          Shit… he trained his eyes on Cynthia and pretended not to see the two approach.

           “No,” she said. “I’m hoping to get some shots of the scenery just as spring is ending, so we can’t put it off till the end.” The crowd broke into excited chatter.

          Cynthia clapped her hands loudly. “People! I’m almost done, so shut up!”

           “Hey,” a voice said beside him and Beck stiffened. He stared straight forward as though he hadn’t heard Mason speak.

           “Now I’m going to tell all of you a little bit about the film, because I’m pretty sure only a handful of people in this room have actually read the script and summary sheet.”

          That’s true.

           “The title of the film is ‘The Land of the Midnight Sun’.” Beck snorted rather loudly at this, but Cynthia made no move to acknowledge it. “If you didn’t know that by now, I’m not sure why I hired you. It’s a basic story: guy meets gal, guy does something stupid, guy loses gal, and the rest of the film is sad. Any questions?”

          No one moved.

           “Great! I want set crew over there, sound guys over there, and the rest of you over there,” she demanded, gesturing wildly. “Butler, Moore, Carson, and Slater! I want you guys over here with me.”

          Beck followed her grey swinging braid to a far corner of the hotel lobby, tugging at the edge of his dark long sleeve. Jonathan and Mason trailed shortly behind him, taking their time.

           “Hurry up, you slow-arse twats!” Cynthia grouched and crossed her arms. “Let’s get through this quick ‘cause I’ve still got to talk to all those other groups. Since there’s only four of you I’ll introduce all of you real quick.”

          She pointed towards Jonathan. “This is Jonathan Butler. He’ll be our star actor for this film.”

           “And this,” Cynthia waved vaguely at a brown-haired girl. “Is Joy Slater. She’ll be the main actress.” The woman popped her gum and gave them a wave while twirling one finger in her wavy hair. Cynthia rolled her eyes and turned away.

           “Here’s Beck Carson, one of our two best camera men, and Mason Moore, the other.” They all murmured general greetings and Cynthia grinned.

           “Fantastic. This whole thing is going to be done old-school. I don’t want fabricated sets, so we’re going to be traveling to a lot of already existing structures and natural spots. Now get acquainted while I brief the other idiots.” With that, she wandered off towards another group. Beck turned to offer the new woman a greeting but suddenly Jonathan was in his way.

           “Ms. Slater? Jonathan Butler. Charmed,” the man grasped her fingers and pressed a kiss to Joy’s knuckles. She giggled and twirled her hair faster.

          Oh God, I’m going to have to spend months with these people.

           “Beck?”

           “Yeah?” he grunted, not bothering to turn around.

          Mason sighed. “I’m sorry for acting like a complete arse yesterday. I get into a shitty mood after a really long flight and no sleep. But I didn’t mean to…you know.”

          Beck shot him a sidelong glance; he was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and staring down at his shoes.

           “Did Jonathan put you up to this?” Beck asked after a pause. Mason ducked his neck further and muttered an embarrassed, “Yeah.”

          He hurried to explain himself. “But I really mean it. I’m not apologizing just because Jonathan told me to, but I’m actu-.”

           “It’s O.K.,” Beck held up a hand. “I understand. I get like that too sometimes.”

          Mason looked up and gave him a blinding grin. His eyes shone brightly with laughter and Beck blinked, stunned. A small pain in his chest, he stared speechlessly until Mason’s grin fell and was replaced by concern.

           “Are you all right?” He reached out a hand to Beck, who jerked back in alarm.

           “Oh, I, uh,” Beck flustered, feeling guilty as Mason drew back. “Sorry, startled me.”

          Mason smiled. “That’s all right. I get like that too sometimes.”

          Beck offered him a weak smile. The man wasn’t too
bad after a full night’s sleep.

           “All right!”

          They both turned towards the center of the room where Cynthia stood with her hands on her hips.

           “Let’s get filming!”

  

          There were about fifteen people packed into the rusty van, not including equipment. Beck could barely breathe as he was squished between two strangers, one of which desperately needed a breath mint. They rode for sixty agonizing minutes. Beck was grateful that it was still winter, because the summer heat would have baked them all to a crisp amidst the unpleasant body odors. When the van finally came to a stop and the door slid open, Beck had to resist the urge to fight his way out.

          Oh, wow… He slung his bag over his shoulder and marveled at the sight of the train. It was old, probably from years before the Pulses, but looked to be in good condition if not a little rusty. Beck trudged his way through the high weeds, making his way toward the makeshift camp set up in a small clearing. His van was one of the last to arrive and he realized with an unpleasant start that his camera was the only one left unpacked. Beck chucked his bag under a folding table and kneeled in front of the large crate.

          Who the hell thought it’d be funny to make
these things annoying as hell? The lid was lined with multiple pressure locks, all of which had to be pressed and twisted before they would release. Beck grumbled under his breath and started working, turning locks as quickly as possible.

          Halfway through the locks, a shadow fell over him.

           “Hurry up, slowpoke!” Mason teased, his own camera already perched on his shoulder. He held the mount in his hand. Beck raised his head and glared before looking around. Most of the crew was moving towards the train and Beck cursed, fumbling with the last few locks before ripping off the lid. To an empty crate.

           “Oh, right,” Mason said. “I unpacked your cam and put in the train cabin.”

          Beck stared at him for a few moments. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

          He shrugged. “I try. Come on, don’t wanna be late on our first day.”

          Beck stood and followed Mason, pausing briefly to brush away the dirt from his knees. They joined the congregating crowd, pushing their way past the others. Cynthia stood in the open cabin doorway, casting a surveying glance across the group, smiling when her eyes landed on Beck and Mason.

           “Now that we’re all here, I’ll give a quick summary of what we’re doing. We’ve got two trucks,” she pointed towards the front of the train where two pick-ups were roped to the cabin. “They’re going to be pulling the train, ‘cause this piece of shit doesn’t work anymore. We’ve got a few overhead cams for shots of the train and the rest are going to be inside with me. We’ll take a break at noon and probably head back to the city before dinner. Any questions? Actually, I don’t care. Get going!” The crowd broke apart.

           “You two, hurry up,” she said to Mason and him, gesturing for them to follow her as she disappeared into the cabin. Mason turned towards Beck and raised a brow before jogging up the steps.

          The train interior was also in great condition. Beck would’ve mistaken it for a functioning train; the fabric of the seats was only a little worn and the windows were smooth and clear of grime. His camera, a black matte plastic monster, was already on one of the red seats, mounted. Beck wiggled sideways through the small leg space and kneeled onto the seat beside it.

          At least it’s unpacked. All of the dials and switches were turned to their maximum levels and Beck frowned, resetting them. Is he a child? Obnoxious fuck.

          He popped off the lens cap and pressed his cheek against the bottom ridge, peering through. The view was hazy, so he reached forward and turned the dial slowly until the blur came into focus. It was Jonathan sitting in an aisle seat, waving a hand at the camera with a cheeky grin. Beck snorted and pulled back with a reluctant smile. He hadn’t noticed the man when he’d gotten onto the train.

          There was a loud metal rattle as Cynthia wheeled a cart in from a connected cabin.

           “Who’s got the scene board?” she called, typing furiously on the multiple laptops she’d just wheeled in. A small girl flounced by, trailed by a few of the other extras. They settled themselves into the seats, all with various degrees of boredom etched into their expressions.

          Cynthia looked up from the monitors to turn towards the door. “Heather!” There was a silent pause and Cynthia cursed. “Useless girl,” she grumbled, pulling at the end of her braid as she picked up a walkie-talkie.

           “Are you guys ready?” A warbled confirmation filtered back. “Start whenever.” Cynthia clicked off the sound and clipped the walkie-talkie to her belt.

          The train came to life, jerking roughly as a loud metallic screech filled the air. Beck braced a hand against the seat and gripped the camera mount to keep it in place. He could see Mason leaning against the wall at the other end of cabin, eye already pressed against the viewfinder. Beck followed suit, popping out the small LCD monitor before peering into the camera. He trained the lens on cabin doorway and pressed the small red button to begin recording.

           “And…action!”

          Joy appeared in the doorway, clutching a small handbag, and glanced around the cabin looking for an open seat. The train swayed as she made her way up the aisle, her high heels clicking loudly against the white tile floor. Beck focused the camera on Jonathan, zooming in slightly. The older man sat in a relaxed pose, his hands folded comfortably across his torso while his feet where tucked under the seat in front of him. The cabin wobbled and Joy lost her balance, tumbling into a man’s lap. She blushed and quickly pushed herself upright, apologizing quickly before continuing on her way. The handbag was clenched tightly in her hand. Beck caught himself before he could snort out loud.

          She stepped into view of his camera and he quickly shifted a few settings, not wanting her form to blur. The sway of her hips was mesmerizing, however, as she zeroed in on Jonathan.

           “Cut!”

          They all turned to stare at Cynthia. She had one had on her hip and another covering her eyes.

          That can’t be good. Beck quietly pressed a button on the camera to pause recording.

           “Slater-. Joy,” Cynthia corrected herself. “You’re being too direct. You’re supposed to be shy and uncomfortable, not seductive. Let’s try it again, from the beginning.”

          Joy huffed and stalked back to the passageway.

           “Action!” Cynthia barked.

  

          By the sixth cut, Beck was leaning against the seat and trying to ignore the burn in his thighs.

           “It’s still wrong! You need to walk slower and more hesitantly. I shouldn’t have to tell you this many times!”

          Beck pinched the bridge of his nose. The constant rocking was making him nauseous.

          If she can’t even get the first scene right, we’ll end up filming late everyday.

           “I’m trying. I’ve done everything you said but you still don’t like it! How’s that my fault?” Joy said angrily, bracing her hands on a seat.

          The walkie-talkie crackled loudly as Cynthia brought it to her lips. “Slow it down, guys,” she ordered. Sighing, she dropped her arm back down to her side. “We’re gonna stop now for a lunch break. There’re bagged meals for you guys in the trucks, so head up there when this fuckin’ metal worm stops. You’ve got an hour; don’t stray too far.”

          The train came to a gradual stop and Beck stood slowly while trying to rub some feelings back into his legs. A few seats away, Jonathan stretched his arms above his head, his suit and vest riding up to reveal a strip of tan flesh. Beck shook his head, lifting the camera off of its mount and laying it down onto the seat. His own skin must look sickly compared to Jonathan’s.

          Maybe I should try tanning more, he thought, edging sideways into the aisle. Beck nodded absently at Mason as he passed him on the way to the stairs.

          The sun was at its highest point in the sky and Beck could feel a sheen of sweat forming on the back of his neck even as the bitter cold wind chilled him. Winter was a fucked up season, but thankfully spring was approaching. He tugged at his collar as he approached one of the pick-up trucks. Their frames were a faded blue and rusting at the edges, but looked fairly durable.

          A small line was forming at the back, where a woman was standing at the edge of the trunk, handing out bags. Beck fell into line, waiting patiently for it to move.

           “Here you go,” she said, handing him a plastic bag with a smile. He turned away, surprised at its weight, and looked for a secluded place to eat. Tiny groups were clustered about the field nearby and Beck weaved his way through, trying to ignore the curious stares and whispers. He trudged past a few other trucks and vans.

          Maybe I can just sit behind one of these. He banished the thought. No need to have someone walk over to their van only to find him sitting against it alone.

          The ground ahead sloped gently upwards and he climbed over it. There were a few shrubs dotting the land, but dry yellow grass stretched on and on as far as he could see. An old tree bare of most of its leaves stood by the edge of the slope. Beck sank down against it, glad for the small shade.

          He sat cross-legged and propped the bag up against his leg. Not bad, he mused, going through the food. There was a sandwich, bottled water, and an apple that actually looked fresh. He tore off the plastic sandwich covering and pulled out a wedge. The liquid cheese didn’t look very promising but he took a bite anyway.

          It clung to the roof of his mouth and he coughed, spitting the mouthful out. “Ugh,” he groaned. The taste of rotten cheese was still on his tongue. He opened the water bottle and took a swig, rinsing his mouth before spitting that out too.

           “That bad, huh?”

          Jonathan dropped down next to him, holding an identical bag. Not far behind was Mason, who sat down on his other side.

           “You’re awful hard to find, you know that? It wouldn’t kill you to actually sit with the rest of us,” Jonathan scolded. He opened his bag and took out the bottle, ignoring the sandwich completely.

          Beck rubbed the edge of his coat gently over the apple. “Actually, it would.” He took a large bite of the apple and chewed thoughtfully. The train and crew were still visible from his seat and he watched the people swarm around it like bees.

          Busy, mindless bees. They seemed cheerful enough, if the faint laughter that reached his ears was any indication. He ran a thumb along the edge of his jaw and frowned at the feel of rough stubble. One of those rare times that I actually need to shave, I guess.

          Beck looked over at Mason, who was already wolfing down the last of his sandwich. There was already the beginning of a five o’ clock shadow forming along the sharp edges of his face. Popping the last bit of bread into his mouth, Mason licked his fingers and glanced up, meeting Beck’s eyes.

          Almost immediately Beck turned away, not wanting a repeat of the last time he looked into his eyes.
           “Are you going to finish that?”

          Beck glanced back at Mason before handing him his untouched sandwich. “I don’t know how you can stomach that, but help yourself.”

          Jonathan laughed. “Might as well have mine, too.” He tossed the pack at Mason who caught it with a gleeful smile.

           “Aw, thanks. You guys are too good to me.”

          Beck wiped a hand over his mouth. “Hope you die,” he said in a nonchalant tone. Beside him, Jonathan chuckled.

           “What do you guys think of the movie so far?”

          Mason took a vicious bite out of a sandwich and glared half-heartedly at Beck.

           “Boring,” Beck replied. He dropped the apple core into the plastic bag.

           “If that woman,” Mason swallowed his mouthful. “Keeps fucking up the scene, I’ll put on a wig and play her part instead. And I’d do it better.”

           “So… you make a better woman than an actual woman?” Beck laughed loudly as he ducked Mason’s punch. “You said it, not me.”

          They sat in comfortable silence while Mason grumbled over each bite.

          Jonathan shifted slightly. “You should laugh more,” he said, eyes searching his face. “It’s nice.” Beck could feel the tips of his ears burn.

          Mason growled beside them. “Come on, guys! Not while I’m around.”

          Right. Jealous boyfriend. “Er…sure,” he said awkwardly and turned back to face the train. There was still plenty of time before they had to go back.

           “You know, I think I’ve seen her somewhere,” Beck said, trying to redirect the conversation. Mason perked up.

           “Who?”

          Beck pointed towards the brunette actress that stood by one of the pick-ups. She was surrounded by a group of men and seemed to be telling a story. A dull one, no doubt. “She just…looks familiar.”

           “You probably saw her in an older movie, when she was just a kid. She’s only a few years older than you two, at most,” Jonathan explained, peeling off the skin of his orange. “She was in…Space Cowboys, I think it was called.”

          Mason burst into laughter. “That sounds like a porno!”

           “Oh God, keep your nasty thoughts to yourself,” Beck complained, but he couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.

  
&
  

          He stepped out of the bathroom with his arms stretched out above his head. A long, hot shower was exactly what he needed.

          Beck rubbed the white towel over his hair, trying to dry the locks before they could curl into a hideous mess. He dropped the towel from around his waist and stepped into a pair of dark boxers. By the end of the afternoon, they had only managed to film three scenes in total. The actress had thrown a handful of tantrums and the fifth time she stormed off set Beck was wandering why Cynthia had bothered to hire the woman at all. Her talent certainly didn’t seem worth the effort. He had been sent out to fetch her a few times and each time she either cursed him to hell or tried to grope him.

          If he was going to have to deal with her tomorrow then he needed as much rest as he could get, but he knew he couldn’t put off calling George any longer. Beck sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over to pull a large case from under it. Every MH-6 member had been handed an identical case before they departed and he hadn’t gotten a chance since then to see what had been packed. He pressed both palms of his hands against the side of the case, waiting for the embedded scanner to read his prints. After a moment the case popped open with a soft click and Beck lifted the lid slowly.

           “Damn,” he said under his breath. One side of the case was lined with various caliber firearms, ammo, and gadgets that he wasn’t quite sure how to use. There was also a thin laptop sitting snugly in its plastic mold. Beck pried it out and flipped it open, pressing the small circle on the side. As the screen lit up, he turned back to the case and pulled out a tiny drive and plugged it into the side of the computer. The image turned into static and he sat back, waiting. After a few moments of nothing, he looked down at himself.

          Maybe I should put on a shirt- the screen flickered and stretched before George’s face suddenly came into view.

           “Took you long enough! I thought you’d died already,” the man said and then took in Beck’s naked chest. “Or maybe you were getting laid?”

          Beck sighed, a pang in his chest. “George,-.”

           “I know,” the older man interrupted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

          He waved the apology aside. “That’s all right.”

          There was a brief pause. “How’ve you been? Are you eating enough?”

          Beck nodded. “Decent, I guess. The food’s all right. Think you can brief me on what I’m doing here?”

          George sighed and ran a hand through his hair, musing the small ponytail it was held in.

           “Your job is to track the Micol supply and find out where the hell KING’s hidden the equipment. We could only slip in so many agents, so you’re alone on this. I’ll try to give you as much info as I can get, but I think you’ll do fine on your own.”

          Beck raised a brow. “What are the other members doing?”

           “Some of them are looking for the cure and others are just looking for KING in general. But don’t get too close to any of them.”

           “Of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to do anything that might be beneficial.”

          George snorted. “By all means, be friendly with them. Just don’t say anything about your jobs. We have no idea if we’re being watched by KING members, so it’d be best if we avoided these situations all together. Hell, you might even be working with some KING agents.”

          His stomach flipped at the idea. “Any tips for now?” Beck asked, trying to ignore the feeling.

          Sure thing.” George shuffled through a few papers on his desk. “Here we go. Don’t write this down,” he warned and Beck nodded, albeit with a rather sarcastic look.

           “This is Victor Macias, suspected key member of KING and is said to be in charge of handling the Micol. He works in the Prell United Banking building.” George held up a picture. “Get a good look at him, ‘cause we want you to tail him and see where he goes.” Beck’s eyes scanned across the picture, picking up small details and filing them away for future reference. He nodded after a moment and George lowered his hand.

           “We’ve also set up a fake identity for you to use. You’re name is Jeremy Stanton, born and bred in the southern state of Texas. You work at a law firm, Grimm and Terry-.”

          Beck snorted.

           “-and you travel a lot for the companies that have enlisted your legal help. On the flip side, you’re also a low profile dealer here in the states, known by name but not by face.”

           “That’s…,” Beck scraped a nail across his lower lip. “Not believable.”

          George rolled his eyes. “No, it’s your job to
make it believable. You’ll get a package by tomorrow morning with a few fake business cards and some other crap you’ll need.”

           “Roger.”

           “Well, I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve got another call waiting. Give me an update when you’ve got some info, all right?”

           “Sure thing, boss.” He gave the man a mock salute and unplugged the chip. George managed a disgruntled expression before his face was replaced by static.

          Strangely enough, there really was a package waiting for Beck in the morning. The envelope was thin enough to have been slipped under his door at night. Slightly unnerved, he unbent the metal prongs and peered inside.

           “Fancy,” he muttered, reaching in and pulling out a card. JEREMY STANTON, LAWYER was printed neatly on thick, creamy stock. He dropped it back in and shoved the whole thing under the bed, not bothering to read through the other useless papers. All he needed right now was some breakfast. His stomach growled in agreement. Casting one last glance around the room to make sure he had left nothing incriminating in plain view, Beck stepped out of the room and pressed a button. The small ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign lit up by his door and he walked away, satisfied. He could always call for fresh sheets and towels later.

          A buffet breakfast was something Beck quickly learned to appreciate. He could eat his fill of however many things he liked, but finding an empty table was always a trick. Today he had arrived early enough to have his choice of the lot. Laden with two plates piled high with food, Beck sat down at a small, round table in its own secluded alcove. It would be hard for others to spot him here and it had a great view of the garden outside.

          Beck had barely made his way through half a plate before one full of fruit was dropped down next to his.

           “Mind if I sit with you?” without waiting for an answer, Cynthia slid into the chair next to his. “Didn’t take you for an early riser, Carson,” she commented, swirling her red drink. Beck had the sneaking suspicion that it was a Bloody Mary.

           “I’m not.” He scooped up a forkful of egg.

          There are twenty other empty tables and she has to sit with me. He chewed the eggs carefully, hoping she wouldn’t say anything else.

           “I’d like some input,” she said around a mouthful of strawberry.

          Hope is a shitty thing.

           “What do you think of the film so far?”

          Beck shoveled some more eggs into his mouth, trying to buy some time. What the hell was he supposed to tell her? That he thought it sucked and he’d rather be back home getting so drunk he forgot how to speak? He swallowed.

           “The whole story seems rather…morose and depressing.”

          Fuck, that was blunt.

           “I thought you were trying to revive the movie industry, not completely kill it off.”

          Fucking HELL, are you trying to get yourself fired? Beck wanted to bury his head in the dirt and never show his face again. To his surprise, however, Cynthia only laughed.

           “Oh, I completely agree,” she said, eating a few grapes.

          Beck looked up from his plate, confused. “Then…?”

           “No story has a happy ending, Carson.”

          Jonathan and Mason chose then to make their entrance. “Good morning,” they chorused, but Beck only nodded in return while Cynthia chose to ignore them all together. Mason shot a dirty look at the back of her head and went to side on the other side of Beck while Jonathan took the last seat beside Cynthia.

           “Sure there are,” Beck argued, very aware that they now had an audience. “What about all those fairy tales? Sleeping Beauty? Snow White?”

          Mason snorted beside him, muttering, “What the hell have you been watching?” Beck ignored him.

           “Well,” Cynthia chuckled, “that’s true if you follow what’s generally accepted as an ‘ending’.”

          He stared at her. “I don’t…what?”

          She set her fork down and leaned forward. “In a book or a movie, we always follow the story until after the climax or last battle, where the hero has won, he’s got the girl and everyone is happy. But are they dead?”

          Beck leaned away slightly. “No…?”

           “Exactly. The story continues beyond the screen or the page, continues where we can’t see it. Each story is its own real world, with real people and real events. Maybe when the credits are rolling for us, the world for them is still moving. The guy loses the girl, both age, marry the wrong people, and die unhappy. The villain thwarts the hero in their next battle. But we never see it, because our view is cut short right after the happy ‘ending’.” She raised her hands and imitated the quotes. “That’s what I want to show people.”

          They all stared at her in shock, unsure of what to say until Mason broke the silence.

           “You’re a very depressing woman, you know that?”

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A/N: What do you think? Please leave a review! Thanks!