B A D L A N D E R

—— it’s dangerous to go alone !  take this !!

JUDE DE LA CRUZ a.k.a BADLANDER. no loyalty, no gods, no masters.                         a dependent rp blog for @londonfalling-rpg

bio. / pinterest. / about. / visuals. / headcanons. template. / art.

➜ open starter for anyone!

In some random room in the houses of parliament. How your character ended up here with August is up to you! I do feel a bit sorry for them tho <3

tw: bomb threat and august being august

“Not much of a safe room, is it?” August scoffed, as he watched the Thames flow just outside the window he was leant against. “Pop a sniper somewhere,” he gestured vaguely to the other side of the riverbank, “Over there, and BAM, they’d JFK me before the door was even closed and locked.” Seriously, he’d expected a bit more protection, considering he was the Prime Minister, and someone had called in a bomb threat on the houses of parliament. Cooped up here with a bunch of civilians was practically demeaning for someone of his stature. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Talk about inflation for the next few hours? 

The room was a stark, featureless space with one window and a single, flimsy door. A table and a few chairs had been haphazardly arranged in the center, and a small TV was mounted on the wall. The room was cramped with only three people in it. Himself, his one security detail who had accompanied him to the loo and then this poor civilian who probably hadn’t expected to end up locked up with the PM and the man dedicated to holding his cock while he pissed. 

This was not how he planned to spend his afternoon, cooped up in this jailcell of a room as everyone shat themselves over some silly 6-th former’s prank call. “Give me my phone back,” he demanded from his security detail, who had confiscated both their phones and turned them off, for ‘extra safety’. “I need to call my wife,” August lied. Really, he just wanted to open Candy Crush and avoid having to talk to the stranger next to him.

Ugh, how the fuck did they get here? What cosmic fucking joke looked at Jude de la Cruz this morning and went, yeah. Time to get locked in a small box with the PM and one very constipated looking security detail.

Jude’s knee had been bouncing incessantly since the man had demanded his cell, and had nearly taken Jude’s hand off to claim it. Jude wasn’t necessarily worried about that; it was their personal cell, on which zero business was conducted because they weren’t a flipping idiot. What Jude was worried about was the way the guy kept staring at them like they might warrant further searching, because that would be a problem. Jude had been dropping off a box of files from his uncle’s firm in the well-tailored but itchy suit Lydia had helped him buy, and in the process had nicked a USB stick off of someone’s desk with the deft-fingered skills Robbie had helped him hone.

So, the last thing Jude wanted was some two-ton looking security grunt burning holes in them with his eyes while the USB with god-knows-what on it was burning a hole in their pocket. Still, Jude was nothing if not unreasonably cocky in the presence of cops and cop-adjacent figures of authority — something Colin Blackwood was well aware of, and Jude hoped that somewhere, the old man’s ears were burning.

“I think your tito is correct, loathe as I might be to admit it.” Lydia shrugged, “I’m all for down with the establishment, but I’d also like you to be employed and to have others respect you, even though it’s ridiculous that respect is earned sometimes by how one is dressed.” Another shrug. “If you ever want, I can always put in a good word for you at the BBC - not sure I have the power to get people hired, but I have been told I have a nice smile and I may have also been told that I am good at getting what I want, so…”

“You don’t have to buy me anything. I like hanging out with you, Jude.” She made a face. “More than like, actually, you and Sonny are my most favorite people in the world, so…” Lydia made a half-skip toward the entrance, spinning around to smile at her friend. “Though I guess I wouldn’t say no to a pair of vintage boots.” She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open. “You first. My favorite people always get to go first, so…” 

Respect. Jude almost laughed; he’d never felt respected by adults his entire life, and that attitude tended to inform a little too much of his devil-may-care attitude with those he worked alongside — both above and below board. They hadn’t done much to earn his respect, so why should he care about earning theirs?

… except the obvious, of course. He needed the employment. So with a sigh in quiet contrast to Lydia’s enthusiasm, he followed her to the entrance and let her hold the door as he stepped inside, shaking his head and grinning. “You’re a sap, Lyds.” And as much as he might try and argue it, Jude found it impossibly endearing.

Jack: Do I sound like I'm joking?

Jack: Can you do it or not?

Jude: ofc i can but the guy is basiclly govt

Jack: Get your shit together and give me everything you have on him

Jack: *attachment sent*

Jack: And make it snappy or you'll be in the Thames with your burner

Jude: is that who i thikn it is bc wtf my dude

“This is, like. The last place I want to go,” Jude declared -- not for the first time this afternoon, and definitely not for the last. Arms folded over their chest, they slid Lydia a wince. “But tito said I can’t show up for work with any more dress pants with holes in ‘em.” Jude doesn’t need that job at the public defenders anymore, not technically and not monetarily, but every now and then there was a database or a handful of files that was crucial to his actual work. And not the streaming.

Jack: Looks like you're losing your touch

Jack: It'd be a shame if you've outgrown your usefulness

Jude: hey yo i just woke up can u just tell me what u want and stop vagueing liek a disney villain

Jack: You owe me a big fucking explanation, shortcake

Jack: Several explanations actually

Jack: I hope you have your excuses ready and your affairs in order

where: one man’s trash when: nap time with: @b4d14nd3r​

Working out of One Man’s Trash is hardly a convenient arrangement. Maybe it was a good fit for Eliza, maybe she liked being surrounded with piles of stolen bric-a-brac because it reminded her of her long-past glory days, but as far as Javier’s concerned? It’s mostly junk, and it’s in his way.

Still, he pushes into the building, ready for another few hours of meetings and strategizing, only to realise that not only is Sonny notably absent, but that there is somebody else in here somewhere. Following the sounds of laboured breathing, Javier moves quietly between the shelves, his hand on the grip of the pistol concealed beneath his suit jacket. He isn’t sure who he’s expecting to find concealed behind the counter, but it certainly isn’t a pink-haired youth who is apparently asleep. Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, he delivers a swift kick to the stranger’s sneaker to wake them up. “Long day?” He asks, tone friendly enough, though his smile carries a distinctive edge.

.

“Ugh,” Jude blurted out eloquently as something hit their shoe, rocked out of a deep sleep — who knew why, but naps behind the counter of One Man’s were some of the best they ever had — and took a couple long seconds to blink the sleep from their eyes. “Th’fuck,” they slurred, not actually bothering to get up, though at least squirming backwards so their back was leaning against the wall and their feet weren’t quite as close to… this stranger.

Too sleepy yet to wrack their brain properly about who this could be, Jude just made a face that it wasn’t Sonny. “Help’s stepped out for a minute. I don’t work here.”

“Fuck indeed,” he echoed the sentiment with a bitter mirth not quite present in his friend’s own delivery. Kohl-rimmed eyes lingered on Jude’s form, on the angles formed as they tilted their head to the sky, and the way the cityscape reflected off of them to create a soft diffusion of light like a pink-hued halo. Rather candidly, and likely a byproduct of the cross-fade starting to take effect in his brain, Sonny grinned, “I should’ve brought my camera. You look–” Inhale, exhale. “—too good to ruin it by gettin’ worried over my own…shenanigans.”

He shrugged at the silliness of the thought. Where Sonny’s shenanigans ended, Jude’s began, and vice versa. The world might see the Caine siblings as inexorably linked, but in the deepest sense of what the trio was truly comprised of — wouldn’t that title instead be better suited to the two who shared a secret as readily as a joint on a rooftop, as manicures and Mario Kart, as inside jokes and knowing glances? Sonny shrugged again, a half-bemused chuckle accompanying another small exhale of smoke as the other nudged his thigh.

“Well, half the reason I keep you ‘round is for the thrill of it all,” he joked in response, words bearing a certain truth — not solely in the sense of fending off any trouble that came their way, but simply because that Jude was a thrill. Beyond friendly flights of fancy, they offered something Sonny’s life seemed naturally inclined to reject: stability. Stability in the form of someone to look forward to, to even occasionally come home to, to lean against and trust even with that which was most hidden from the rest of the world. Whatever existed between them was indeed a thrill, the kind that demanded to be protected if only for its sheer rarity. 

Before he could speak more on it, they were back on about Lydia — and when his sister was the topic of conversation, all other considerations fell momentarily by the wayside. “‘Too much’? How about eight days a week?” A beat, filled by a nervous chuckle, gaze clouded with a hint of reluctance. “I didn’t realize we were playing Truth of Dare, but seeing as I’ve lazily worked my way around a truth, that means you get a dare.” Those were hardly the rules, and they both knew it, but his assertion carried the undercurrent of a simple plea. “Dare you to distract me from the inevitability of my sister hating me when she finds out.”

.

Jude didn’t shrink under Sonny’s gaze like they might those of others, but there was an inevitable, curious tilt to their head when Sonny paused, and then a borderline embarrassing air of surprise when he finished the thought. Something twisted in Jude’s stomach, something they failed to understand and subsequently ignored when Sonny continued. The teasing was easier to make heads or tails of, which said a little more about Jude than they were comfortable admitting. There was a lot about this exchange they felt that they were more comfortable not admitting.

Accepting the joint back as the world’s edges started to soften around them, Jude frowned knowingly at Sonny’s words. Eight days a week, or: roughly as often as Jude himself worried about the same thing. For Jude, though, the same worry overlapped with Sonny; obviously his best friend wasn’t about to leave him for having a darker side few others got to see, but in Jude’s mind, there were plenty of other reasons to be left.

Sonny just had to find one. And Lydia, well. Could be that she just had to find out what the two of them were.

“I’m not much of a distraction without a controller in my hands,” Jude figured with a wry smile, eyes on Sonny as they took a smaller, more careful drag, holding the curls of smoke deep in their lungs. One leg started to swing idly, a habitual tic indicative of but not limited to nerves. When Jude exhaled, they shook their head gently. “Why do you think she could ever hate you, Sam?” they murmured, glancing over the planes of Sonny’s face, softened by the creeping high. Why do you think anyone could ever hate you?

A sauna cascaded from the wolf’s mouth, scented by raw meat that had been aged from stomach acid, something like a pack of sirloin that had been left outside in the summer, forgotten to be put away for safe-keeping. Jude could have created a new layer, a top-note to dab behind the ears that might at any minute be ripped right off their head.

“Yeah? Don’t know shit about it?” Blue eyes caught brown, fur coat in between them, a leash separating life and death. “Doesn’t make you much use, does it?” Another humid breath wafted around Jude’s neck, smothering it like a hand ready to grip onto it. “‘less that smell is all the shit you’re spewing.” Lying was a dangerous game; not helping finding out who was was even worse. “Which is it? Or should we have a go at heads or tails to sort it out?”

.

The wolf huffed out a wet, heavy breath, and Jude’s own breath stuttered and then held, cheeks barely rounded as he waited for the warmth and the smell — far worse than any dog breath he’d smelled before — pass. It was an exceptionally fucking distracting way to try and hold a conversation, but if Malachi wanted the truth out of them, Jude certainly didn’t feel in any position to lie. At this point, they didn’t think they could spin a decent lie if they wanted to. And hopefully Malachi believed that.

“No! No,” Jude replied hurriedly, not about to leave his wolf-snack status up to pure chance. The Emperor would be the sort of man to flip a coin and decide whether to feed someone to a wild animal, wouldn’t he. “I’m serious, I don’t know anything. But I’m working on it,” he added, since truth kept him alive in the short-term but usefulness would be what provided job security. And life security. “Everyone wants to know who dropped that bombshell, of course I’m workin’ on it. But no one drops something like that without seriously coverin’ their tracks, unless they’re an absolute fuckin’ idiot.”

Jude swallowed hard, managing to tear his gaze from the wolf to meet Malachi’s eyes, willing himself to continue and his words to stay steady. “But trust me, I’m workin’ on it.”

“Toffee shouldn’t hurt your teeth. You should see your dentist,”  Thomas could easily guess why toffee would hurt Mr Cotton Candy, but it wasn’t precisely his problem. “Anyhow, I didn’t come here to lecture you about shit,” he bit on the side of his tongue and turned on his heels to face the counter and order himself a drink to get that taste out of his mouth. “It’s a shame they don’t allow people to take pictures in here,” it must have been his fourth time complaining about it already. The place was beautiful, and it was a shame it was owned by a bunch of snakes.

“Yeah well, I can say the same about me. I’m not sure I could ever entertain people like you do.” He couldn’t and shouldn’t. First of all because he couldn’t be a public figure and do his side job, and second of all, because he didn’t want to bring happiness and joy into the hearts of people, which felt like a dick move, but really, was just him being realistic. He didn’t want to spend his whole time having to deliver and with people expecting him to be just that. He knew that if he’d not known Jude before he’d seen his Twitch channel, he’d probably would have expected this of him. “The most difficult thing I can cook? Ahem, I don’t know man. I suppose there’s this dish my father taught me to make, took me a while to get the dough right.”

Jude didn’t even bother to suppress the eyeroll when Thomas mentioned the dentist, but there wasn’t much point in arguing — both because Thomas was right, and because he moved on. Jude considered his statement as he craned his neck back, peering up towards the high ceiling and then letting his eyes wander along the ornate decorations and furnishing. Much like Thomas, he had to admit the Red Rose was gorgeous. Not his aesthetic by any stretch, but a classy mixture of traditional and modern that was difficult to pull off well.

Thomas pulled his attention back and Jude likewise swiveled towards the bar, considering their own drink order. “People are a lot easier to entertain than you think. Half the time all you gotta do is talk about the stuff you’re passionate about, and they’re on board. And you’ve got things you’re passionate about.” Jude ordered a whiskey sour, then tilted their head at Thomas.

how did u get this #?

did someone give it to u?

i don’t meet up w ppl i don’t already kno.

And yet, there Jude was, at the meeting place — because the truth of it was, they did know Colin.

Jude, perhaps surprisingly, had a talent for memorizing numbers. Danilo hadn’t wanted to give them a cellphone until they were older, some bunk about screen-time and privacy as a tween ( as if Jude wouldn’t end up far and beyond the other end of the spectrum as far as electronics usage went ); Jude had memorized all the phone numbers they’d needed, instead. No little book, no slip of paper. Danilo’s cell, his work, the school, even a couple of friends’ numbers.

Jude had a cellphone by the time he and Colin Blackwood met in the most unfortuitous of circumstances, but Jude still liked to memorize numbers. They had more than enough phones to warrant it, so they didn’t have to plug a contact list into every single one. But that meant when Colin’s number flashed across the screen of one of Jude’s burners, they had to stare at it for a long moment to remember why it was familiar — like seeing a coworker at the grocery store. Something well-known but in an unexpected context.

As they continued to text Colin didn’t let on if he knew it was Jude, but the informant had sneaking suspicions. They could’ve tried to misdirect or ghost, but figured if Colin had half the idea in his brain, he wouldn’t give up. So, there Jude was, in a coat a size too big for them and ripped jeans that didn’t really do much against the chill December wind, one knee bouncing furiously with nerves where they sat on the park bench, waiting, feeling exposed.

“That’s not something to be proud of,” Jack deadpanned, fixing Jude with a brief, unimpressed stare. “And I have to disagree. You’re real fucking good at being a pain in the ass.” They did have their uses when it came to information acquisition and relay — not even Jack could deny that, even if he didn’t always entirely agree with their methods. But dealing with Jude felt very much like getting stuck with supervising first year police cadets in as much as they tested his patience to the brink and back.

Taking another deep drag of the cigarette to thoroughly remove the last hints of that disgustingly sweet odour, Jack rolled his eyes. “Watch your tone pipsqueak. You’re useful for now, but things change. I have enough shit on you to buy you a one-way ticket to the most uncomfortable hotel room you’ve ever been in.” An exaggeration perhaps, but not entirely off mark. While his superiors hadn’t exactly been briefed of this working relationship he’d set up with Jude in the traditional sense, Jack wasn’t above bending the tape a little bit to achieve his goals — of which the main one, at the moment, consisted of finding out just how much cash he could squeeze out of the likes of the Liddells before busting them and throwing away the key.

“So listen closely, Strawberry Shortcake. I want everything you have on the leak and who’s behind it. I don’t care how deep you have to dig or how dirty your hands get, just make sure you get me something useful. There’s a lot of cash waiting for you on the other side.”

As Jack defaulted so quickly to threats, Jude couldn’t help but wonder if he was an only child — that was the kind of energy such knee-jerk snippishness gave off from such low-grade teasing, but it wasn’t like Jude was one to talk. They were an only child, too, maybe a step removed even from that when they had never known their parents. They wondered if Jack knew his parents.

All this was to say, Jude felt neither terribly concerned nor terribly offended, only half-raising their eyebrows when Jack threatened with a cell. Exposing them was a challenge some of their clientele frequently fell back on, often enough that it’d ceased to ruffle Jude’s feathers anymore. There were a couple of reasons Jude doubted anyone would ever pin him with significant jail time, between Danilo and a certain other card up his sleeve in law enforcement, but those were nuclear options. Last resorts. Jude wasn’t going to be stupid enough as to push his luck when he knew those bridges were too delicate to burn twice.

So, Jude let it go and focused on Jack’s sort-of request, sort-of demand, turning it over in his head as he took another, smaller puff of sweet-flavored smoke. “Think y’all can outbid a Liddell?” he wondered conversationally, even as he kept his tone quiet — they might’ve found an isolated corner, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. And he was a healthy amount of paranoid. “Because mate, I can’t even tell you how many people are in the market for that info. You’re not even the first to ask me tonight.” Jude said so merely as a point of fact, not a challenge nor an attempt to garner any more of Jack’s threats. He’d already been threatened enough this evening.