Chapter Text
Force Majeure
Prologue
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Force majeure
(/ˌfɔːrs/ fors, /ˌfɔərs mɑːˈʒɜːr/ mah-zhur, or /məˈʒɜːr/ mə-zhur; French pronunciation: [fɔʁs maʒœʁ]) –
or vis major (Latin) – meaning "superior force", also known as cas fortuit (French) or casus fortuitus (Latin)
"chance occurrence, unavoidable accident"
Ten years ago
They didn't normally try to lift cars like the one being valet parked at the beyond-exclusive-restaurant, but Uncle had been watching it for weeks.
"That's the same one," he muttered, tucking the small binoculars back inside his coat and pulling out a pack of cloves and a lighter.
"We aren't going to try and take it here, are we?" Twitch's eyes darted about rapidly.
"No," he shook his head. "This one is going to come to us. And quit your worrying," he narrowed his eyes at the wiry, fidgeting man. "I know what I'm doing."
Twitch knew better than to argue.
Uncle drew the last cigarette out between clamped teeth before crumpling the package and tossing it carelessly behind him. His old zippo spit sparks at the dark until its flame glowed through cupped hands and curled smoke. Eerie light bled through his fingers, only to be swallowed by the darkness the second Uncle snapped the lighter shut and shoved it back into the recesses of his coat.
Earthy smoke hung heavy in the alley as he continued to carefully consider the valet lot, even though the proposed target was now well out of sight.
"I don't know what business the guy has," he finally said, studying the cigarette as he rolled it between his fingers, "but he's been in our end of town regularly for the last two months."
"Did you check with the local ladies?" Twitch snorted, patting down his jacket until he found the old metal tin with his ever-present stash of unfiltereds. He lit up, sucked down about a third of the cigarette to ash, and held the air in his lungs for a five count before expelling the smoke on an addict's sigh. His nervous energy temporarily banked, his thin, nimble fingers drummed a slightly less harried tattoo on the side of his leg.
"I checked," Uncle flicked his ash to the side. "Hasn't been going to see any of them. Can't figure out who he's going to see. Doesn't change that it's not smart to drive an expensive car like that around our turf, much less park it unprotected. Practically an invitation, if you ask me."
"Or a set up," Twitch's narrow, rodent features pinched into a frown. "What if it's a trap? Like, the car is bait."
Uncle shrugged.
"Then we just gotta be fast. Half-pint here can wire it up quick, can't you?"
He turned to her, and gave her an encouraging smile.
She half nodded, and he winked at her. "'Atta girl. We'll show Twitch there's nothing to worry about."
Uncle was a patient and cunning man. He had been jacking cars for years, and knew that this job was far more complicated than just stealing an expensive car. Cars like that belonged to people with lots of money. The police didn't answer many calls in their neighborhood, but they'd come in droves if someone who could afford a car like that was on the other end of the line.
The success of this job depended on him getting back to a shop quickly, and avoiding any route that could be blocked by the police. Luckily, the neighborhood was a labyrinthine network of poorly lit streets, and Uncle knew it better than anybody.
He watched and waited, biding his time.
Two weeks later, he made his move.
"Wait here," Uncle told her, stuffing something into his pocket, pulling the stocking over his face, and his hood over his head. "I'll let you know when to come out."
She nodded. As Uncle and Twitch slunk through the shadows, she stayed hidden, listening to the sounds of a dark, wet, Konoha night. The rain bordered on freezing, and there was a decided bite in the air. A shiver raced through her, and she tightened her coat around herself.
"I don't like this, Papa," she thought, trying to ignore the growing lump of lead in her stomach. "Maybe…maybe I'll stop helping Uncle after this. Tell him I'm too scared or something."
Uncle and Twitch were on different sides of the street, and with a nod from Uncle, Twitch sidled up to the car and tried the door.
Locked, of course.
Twitch was not a particularly brave or clever person, but he was an absolute rock star with locks and alarms. He pulled a long, thin wire from inside his coat, and quickly went to work on the door.
The rain began to fall harder, and she crouched farther into the shelter of Papa's long, weatherproof coat.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something wasn't right.
With inhuman speed and deadly precision, a figure darted out from the darkness, grabbing Twitch from behind and slamming him against the car. She clamped hands over her mouth to muffle her involuntary gasp of surprise. Twitch's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he stammered incoherently at whoever was hidden by the upturned collar of the trench coat.
"Can't find your keys?" the larger man asked menacingly. "I know I hate when that happens."
Twitch twisted in the man's grip, his wits finally catching up to him.
"No…! No..I… Boss – HELP!" he cried out, and the other man looked up sharply.
"Not alone? You're smarter than you look." He gave Twitch a swift punch to the gut, and the thief doubled over, clutching his stomach with a groan. He then focused on a patch of darkness with the keen, predatory eyes of a hawk.
"So there you are," he let Twitch slide to the ground into a worthless heap. "Going to come out, or going to run away?" he called out. "Bet your friend here will be more than happy to tell me anything I want to know about you."
The man's eyes widened, and he ducked just in time to avoid the bullet that sliced the air to zing off of the car. Cover blown, Uncle abandoned his hiding place and raced through the shadows, the slap-splash of footsteps swallowed by a low rumble of thunder. Lighting flashed, temporarily dispelling the darkness and giving both men clear sight of the other. The other man jumped up and aimed with his own gun – or was it Twitch's? – his jaw a line of hard resolve. He fired his shots in confident, rapid succession, whereas Uncle was running and firing wide.
Uncle shot out the back window of the car, and the other man had to duck to avoid the spray of glass, but came up returning fire. Uncle was almost to her hiding place, and she tried to disappear behind the old oil drum that doubled as a fire barrel for the homeless on cold nights. He cut across behind her, but instead of shouting instructions, or dragging her away to escape, he darted behind her barrel for cover, shoving her into the light of the street as a distraction before changing direction. She instinctively dropped to the ground, even before the bullet grazed her arm. The other man – realizing what had happened, bit out a curse and started to move toward her.
Uncle fired one last shot over his shoulder and fled.
The man dropped to one knee, with a sharp cry.
Dizzy, she stumbled to her feet, dimly registering the fading cadence of Uncle's retreat.
Crimson was beginning to blossom through the man's trenchcoat.
That dispelled any confusion or dizziness.
She sprinted to the car unsurprised to find Twitch long gone. Jumping in through the broken rear window, she unlocked the car, yanked up a floor mat, and used it to shove as much glass off of the back seat as possible. Satisfied, she wrestled her long coat off and spread it out on the seat.
She then hurried back to the man and tugged furiously on his uninjured side, draping his arm around her shoulders, and heaving with all of her might.
Yanking him to his feet, she staggered with him to the car, and sat him down on the edge of the back seat.
"Keys," she demanded.
"You….you want my wallet, too?" he rasped out.
"I don't want to take the time to hotwire this thing; I have to get you to the hospital," she bit out. "Keys!"
"Pocket," he looked to his coat, keeping his arms close to his chest.
She wrapped thin, cold fingers around the keys, leaving everything else in his pockets alone.
"Stay upright if you can," she ordered, helping him in the car. "And hold on."
"Can you drive?" he asked, incredulously.
"Of course," she scoffed. She closed the door, yanked open the driver's side door, jumped in, adjusted the seat, buckled up, revved the engine, and peeled out like the devil himself was at her heels.
"You can't have a license," the man said, his pallor quickly going gray.
"I don't," she admitted, taking a sharp turn expertly.
"But you said-!"
"You asked if I can drive," she snapped. "The answer is yes. Now just sit back, be quiet, and don't die!"
Something like amusement crossed his pained features.
"Whatever you say, Captain."