Chapter Text
mission 0025
These boring missions are the worst – in and out with a couple of stolen documents or eavesdropped intel – but they're especially intolerable when Joseph doesn't get to be a part of the action. He's been parked on the street and waiting for Caesar for 20 minutes and while he's only five minutes late, that can sometimes be a big deal – especially when your partner is as punctual as Joseph’s.
Joseph twiddles his thumbs some more, but that only occupies him for a few seconds before he lets out a heavy sigh. God damn it, he's taking forever. He digs out his communicator from his front pocket and switches to Caesar’s channel, then listens for the tone of the static to change. When it does, he whispers, “Hey, gimme an update.”
The communication abruptly ends and that can mean one of two things: 1) Caesar is pissed or 2) Caesar is in trouble.
Shit.
Joseph switches to HQ and waits again; this time, he's met with Speedwagon asking, “Everything alright, Jojo?”
“Yeah, on my end,” he says, leaning back in his seat and watching the entrance of the gala out of the corner of his eye, “Caesar hasn't sent a distress signal to you, has he?”
“No. Is there reason to worry?” Joseph can hear Speedwagon shuffle with some papers, evidently checking their dossier.
“I don't know yet. I haven't heard anything. I did try to contact him, but either he or someone else hung up pretty much instantly.”
“It looks like he's a few minutes late.” Speedwagon mumbles thoughtfully before clearing his throat. “Give him another minute before investigating for yourself. You dressed formally as requested, correct?”
Joseph looks down at his faded jeans and battered leather jacket. He sort of assumed it would go fine.
“No.”
There's a slight pause before Speedwagon inhales then exhales, loud and exasperated. “Why did you n–”
“It's fine!” Joseph interrupts, attempting to smooth over his frustration by denying that he's made it that much harder to go unnoticed. “I'll pretend I'm someone's drunk and disorderly brother to explain the clothes. It's fine.”
“Jojo, that is the opposite–”
“Well, gotta go! Bye!” Joseph switches off the communicator before Speedwagon can get in another word and huffs. Whatever. He has another minute before he has to worry about that. He's about to twiddle his thumbs again when he notices a police officer approaching the car and unfortunately, depending on whose payroll he's on, it could either be nothing or something that would further complicate what should have been a boring, routine mission.
When the officer taps his nightstick on the passenger side window, Joseph is all too happy to roll it down and greet him with a cheerful and unsuspicious, “Good evening, officer!”
“Young man, are you aware you've been parked here for the better part of a half hour? I’m sure you've got the little old ladies up in their apartments all scared,” the policeman drawls, leaning in the car just enough to take a look around. “You got plans to leave?”
“In a few minutes,” Joseph says, hopefully in truth, before he full-on lies, “I'm just waiting for my girlfriend to leave her fancy party, but she's being slow.”
The officer clicks his tongue, sizing him up, before he withdraws from the car. “OK, well, you better be gone by the next time I come around.”
“Understood, sir! Thank you, sir!” Joseph says brightly and the cop just gives him the raise of an eyebrow before he walks off to resume his rounds.
Joseph looks down at his watch to check the time and if he needs to make a very special appearance tonight, but suddenly, there’s some shouting in the distance and Joseph looks back up only to see a pair of shoes careening toward him as someone dives into the car through the still-open passenger window, shouting, “Drive, idiot!"
Joseph, fortunately quick on his feet, does as he's told. Peeling out of his parking spot, he speeds down the road as Caesar adjusts his position to actually sit in the passenger seat and begins to load his pistol. “Hey, I was just going to check on you! How did it go?”
Caesar glares at him as he forces the cartridge in. “It was going great before you commed me, asshole.”
“Oh,” Joseph mutters, taking a sharp right toward the industrial district, “is that why you hung up?”
“Yes, that’s absolutely why I hung up,” Caesar mocks, looking through the back window as another set of headlights gains on them quick. Now, Joseph can hear the slight breathlessness in his voice from his escape. Oops. “I was saying my goodbyes and it would have gone off without a hitch, but my watch signaled your call. You knew to comm my earpiece this time, you–”
Joseph kills the lights and takes another sharp turn into the mouth of an alley in an attempt to lose them – and disrupt Caesar, who groans out of frustration once he's thrown against Joseph’s shoulder – but within a block, he sees the other half of the plan didn't work.
“I thought Intelligence fixed that!” Joseph turns the lights back on and picks up speed, hoping to try something else. Caesar, on the other hand, reaches down and pulls a small, flat grenade out of his sock garter.
“No. Not yet. Which is why we reminded you before I went inside that–” Caesar forces out from between gritted teeth until a gunshot blows out their back window. Others might be alarmed, but outside of the slight jump, they're both unfazed. If it wasn't a Saturday night, it could have been mistaken for an average Tuesday. “Go back to the surface streets.”
Narrowly avoiding a dumpster, Joseph turns at the first available opportunity and the car bounces as he drives over the curb, then cuts right to avoid hitting an oncoming car. Caesar, as usual, does not appreciate the less than smooth ride, sparing enough time for a disgruntled huff. Traffic allows them to gain some distance, but within a moment, they're being pursued again and the precious yards they had quickly dwindle.
“Just drive,” Caesar advises, leaning out the passenger side window. He's in a prime position to get his head blown off, but Caesar is always quick, efficient, and accurate; their pursuers’ front right tire is blown out within a second and they swerve unsteadily only to clip a neighboring car and lose control – then slam right into the fender of a delivery truck. Caesar, as the type to add insult to injury, also shoots out the back tire that’s still visible.
As they gain distance, Caesar watches like a hawk through the passenger mirror and Joseph keeps driving, eyes searching for any police cars that may have followed after their very suspicious departure and reckless chase. After a mile or so, Caesar releases the breath he had been holding and makes the call to Speedwagon that they're in the clear.
Joseph just chuckles to himself while Caesar tightly explains why it all went south, then he ignores the pointed glare focused in his direction.
He’ll get over it. He always does.