fic: (AV Dustverse) Hanging on the Edge of Destruction

[astro_noms]

Hanging on the Edge of Destruction (2,479 words)
Fandom: Atomic Vaudeville
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Mentions of slavery.
Characters: Alex Porter, Titus Casey
Summary: Dustverse AU. Titus really needs to do a better job of staying out of trouble.

Title from Tina Turner's "One of the Living." Cut text from Mad Max Beyond the Thunderdome. For the "slavery" square of my really old origfic_bingo card. I have two cards, and I'm not going to request any new ones until I get at least the most basic bingo on both of them. *resolve face* Many thanks to scarimonious for looking it over.

Atomic Vaudeville master post


The second time Titus sees Alex, he's practically naked, handcuffed, and about to be sold to the highest bidder. The auctioneer's patter fades into white noise and Titus bites his lip to stop himself from trying to set the man on fire with his brain. His body is still tingling from the shock his collar gave him the first time he'd tried. His heart pounds in his ears and the freshly tattooed mark on his arm throbs with each beat.

There is a cry of protest from one of the people who'd been bidding on him and Titus looks up just in time to meet Alex's amused gaze. Even though she's already seen him naked, it's more than embarrassing, and when her gaze sweeps over him from head to toe, he flushes hotly.

The other bidders try to outdo each other and finally Alex is the winner. The auctioneer brings down the gavel and calls an end to the sale.

"Sold, to Miss Apocalypse! She must see something special in him, folks. She did not want to let him slip away. Whatever it is, I hope you get your money's worth." The suggestive grin the man wears blooms into all-out laughter that spreads through the room. Alex gets to her feet and smiles and she crosses to the front.

"That's for me to know and you to wonder about. Have him brought to my room," she says, not giving Titus another look. "And tell Gabriel I'll be in touch to settle accounts as soon as he gets back.

"As you wish, milady," the auctioneer bows.

One of the attendants herds Titus off the stage and through a twisted maze of corridors. When he realizes they're not heading back to the room he'd been held in before, he turns to his escort.

"What about my things? I want my stuff back, my clothes, the rest of my gear."

"Don't think what she has in mind for you will require clothes, Sparky," the attendant says, shoving him forward. "Not with the way she was looking at you."

People stare at Titus as he passes and he can't really say he's surprised. It's not his lack of clothes drawing their attention—mostly naked people are hardly a rarity in Gabe's compound. What's got them curious is the collar around his neck. He's seen his share of them—used his share of them in his days of working for eLUCIDate. Back in the city, they were common use on prisoners, but he'd been under the impression that people in the zones regarded them as a torture device and abhorred their use. Now that he's felt the effects of one on himself, he understands the terrified reactions of the prisoners and is inclined to agree with them completely.

His escort yanks him back to a door he's walked past and pounds his fist on the door. When it swings open and Alex appears in the doorway, the goon shoves Titus forward.

"Your merchandise, delivered as ordered," he grunts.

Alex looks Titus over and turns to the goon. "Why isn't he dressed? You didn't find him wandering the desert like that," she waves a hand at the flimsy open-sided tunic Titus is wearing.

"Didn't think you'd care about that," the goon mutters.

"Why don't you let me worry about the thinking," Alex tells him. "Please retrieve his belongings, all of them, including whatever may have already been divided as spoils. I'm sure you'll be able to find everything that was taken?"

The goon frowns. "How will you know it's all there? He could try to make trouble, tell you all sorts of things are missing."

"I'm sure he wouldn't do that," Alex smiles sweetly at Titus, patting his cheek. "If he knows what's good for him," she adds, arching an eyebrow.

The goon laughs. "He wouldn't know what's good for him if it bit him," he says. "Dunno why you'd want him in the first place. Been nothing but trouble from the start."

"I like trouble," Alex says, stepping aside and motioning Titus inside. "Let's say… no more than an hour to round up all his things? We'll wait right here."

The goon grunts and shrugs. "Suit yourself," he says, and turns to leave.

Alex clears her throat. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She holds out her hand and the goon pats his pockets before coming up with a small chip. He places it in Alex's hand, looking over her shoulder at Titus.

"You wanna be careful with that one," he says. "We had to knock him out before we could put the collar on him."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alex tells him and shuts the door in his face.

"Alex," Titus steps forward when she turns to him, and then catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror, which makes him freeze in his tracks. "Thank you," he says, forcing himself not to fidget with the paper-thin fabric of the pseudo tunic.

"I couldn't let these vultures get their hands on you," she says. "They probably took one look at that collar and saw visions of money and power, all thanks to your brain." She reaches up to the collar and runs her finger over it. "Can't say it's the best look for you, but I suppose I can understand the appeal of having someone like you for a leashed pet." She slips a finger under the collar and tugs, pulling Titus forward. Glancing down, she laughs before releasing him. "Apparently that's not an idea you're entirely opposed to yourself."

Titus stumbles away from her, cursing his dick and its inappropriate reactions. There's not much he can do to cover up, given the skimpiness of the tunic, and the best he can do is sit in an armchair and put a cushion over his lap. Once he's able to look up without feeling completely mortified, he reaches up to the collar.

"Could you, uh…" He nods in her direction.

"Oh! Of course, sorry." She pulls out the chip out of her pocket and comes towards him. Perching on the arm of the armchair, she reaches out for him.

"Turn your head this way." She puts her hand on his head and pushes it to the side. With his neck exposed, she slides the key into the slot in the collar and pulls back as the safety catches disengage.

With the collar loose, Titus reaches up to remove it, wincing as it pulls away from the marks left from the punishing shock.

Alex hisses and gets to her feet. She fetches her bag and comes back with a medkit. Titus holds still as she cleans the sore spots and puts some sort of salve on them.

"That should help you heal faster," she says. "Provided you stay out of trouble. Which, if I recall correctly, was what I told you to do last time. Seems you don't listen so well."

She picks up the collar from where Titus dropped it. "If they had this on you, that means you're… What can you do?"

“I’ll show you.” Titus gets to his feet and holds out his hand.. Alex looks it over and pops out the key and pockets it before giving him the collar.

"We've got a guy, he's kind of a wiz with electronics. He's been trying to figure out the collars, how they work, hoping to work out some sort of universal key. Maybe this will come in handy."

"You don't need the collar?" Titus looks around the room. "I can probably find something else for a demonstration."

"It’s not the collar that’s important," Alex says, shaking her head. "He's got a dozen of 'em already, but only a couple of keys. There's only so much he can do with them before they burn out, so we all keep an eye out for them when we can."

Titus throws the collar into a metal trashcan and stretches his hand over it, flexing his fingers. At first, nothing noticeable happens, but then the gleaming surface of the collar warps and blackens. A few seconds later, the whole thing melts into slag and then bursts into flame. Titus makes the fire blaze higher, shooting up out of the trashcan in a pillar or flame, then sweeps his hand through it, scooping a pit of it into his palm.

"Amazing," Alex breathes. "That must feel incredible."

"It does," Titus says, making the flame dance over his skin, jumping from finger to finger and then covering his hand like a glove. "For a while, anyway. If I try to do too much, or too fast, it can have unpleasant side-effects." The fire gathers into a single flame in the middle of his palm and he closes his fingers over it, snuffing it out.

Before either one of them can say anything else, someone pounds on the door.

"Looks like your things are here," Alex says. She unzips her jacket and pulls off her shirt, throwing them both on the floor. When Titus gives her a puzzled look, she grins. "They think I bought you for a specific reason. Let's not give them cause to think otherwise."

Titus nods, and heads for the bed. He rips the tunic off his shoulders and pulls the blanket off the bed, then sprawls on the mattress. He gives Alex a come hither look, and gets a raised eyebrow in response, but doesn't let it faze him. Alex opens the door only wide enough to talk to whoever is there, but the bed is in direct line of sight of the door, so he's clearly visible to the smirking goon. The man holds out a bundle of clothes, a motorcycle helmet, and the satchel Titus had on him when they took him.

"Is this everything?" Alex asks. The goon nods, and Alex clucks her tongue at him. "And the motorcycle? What happened to that?"

"It was destroyed in the fight," the goon says, and Titus gives her a slight nod when Alex glances back at him. Satisfied, Alex turns to the goon and gives him a sunny smile.

"Thank you for your assistance," she tells him, and closes the door in his face again.

"He's gonna get mad if you keep doing that."

"He won't remember I did that five minutes from now," Alex says, tossing his clothes onto the bed. "Get dressed, we need to get going. There might be some people upset I snagged you from under their nose. I've seen lesser auctions end in bloodshed."

Titus gets dressed as quickly as he can and rummages through his bag.

"You got everything?"

"Yeah," Titus nods. He holds up his raygun. "Even this," he adds.

"Don't put that on yet," Alex says. "They might frown on an armed slave strolling through the compound."

Titus frowns. "Is that what I am, then? Your slave?"

"As long as we're in Gabe's territory, yeah, sorry," Alex tells him. "As soon as we're out of here, you can go your own way."

"I have no transport," Titus says, kneeling down to fasten the buckles on his boots. "Got any ideas?"

"I can drop you off at a service station on the border. They'll probably have something you can pick up relatively cheap."

Titus nods, and once they're both ready, Alex gives him her bag in addition to his satchel, and checks the weapon holstered on her hip. Satisfied, she opens the door and leads Titus towards the exit.

Once the compound shrinks to a glow on the horizon behind them, Alex pulls the car over. "OK, decision time," she says. "I can give you a ride to the station, but I've got to be on my way soon. They're waiting for these back home," she points at the crates of supplies in the back.

"The station it is, I guess," Titus shrugs. He doesn't have much to trade for a ride, but he can probably manage something that'll get him back on the road again. "They have a place I can sleep for the night?"

"Yeah," Alex nods. "I'm sure they'll be able to set you up with something." She starts the car again, and lets it idle for a moment, flexing her hands on the steering wheel. "You need to get that taken care of," she says.

"What?"

"The tattoo they put on you," she says, nodding to where he's rubbing his arm through his jacket. "Any traders who don't know you sees that, you'll be fair game. I'll give you a name."

"Nah," Titus shakes his head. "I got it," he says. It takes a bit of twisting around, but he gets his jacket off and rolls up his sleeve to expose the tattoo. The mark is small, but definitely recognizable, and the skin around it is livid where he's rubbed it raw. He grabs the handle above the door and braces himself, then holds up his other hand and takes a deep breath.

Alex grabs his wrist and pulls back instantly, hissing. "Whoa, what the hell are you doing?" She examines her hand, and Titus winces when he sees the reddened skin of her palm. "What the fuck, Titus?"

"I'm gonna burn it off," he says, gritting his teeth. "I can take it outside if you need me to," he adds, reaching for the door handle.

"Shut the fuck up," Alex snaps, pulling the car back on the road. "I can't believe you! Why can't you just ask for help, like a normal person?"

"I'm not a normal person," Titus reminds her. "I can't just ride up to people and ask them for help. Not with everything I've done. Not with who I've been."

"We've all done bad things," Alex says. "We've all had to learn to live with those things. Making yourself a martyr because you think that's the only way to atone is a guaranteed one way ticket to the grave, Titus. You won't survive alone in this world."

They sit in silence for a while, until Titus clears his throat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home," she says. "I know a guy who'll cover that up for you, no burning yourself necessary."

"You do this often? Bring home strays?"

"Only those I like," Alex grins. "Relax. Nobody's going to make you stay if you don't want to. But we've got better food and softer beds than the service station, and I think you'll enjoy the company more, too. And if you decide you want to leave, we've got a pretty big motor pool, you'll probably be able to make a trade for something."

"I don't have anything," Titus says. "Haven't exactly had the opportunity to acquire much in the way of tradable possessions."

"You can work it off somehow," Alex says. "I'm sure Dirk will be willing to let you trade for sexual favors or something."


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