quentin-flores-blog - Tumblr blog

[quentin-flores-blog]

angelo-sorrentino:

“Figured.” He answered with a sigh, letting his gaze fall to the ground for a few moments as he shook his head at the idea that once again, his beautiful city - a city they’d already lost far too many people to - was caught in a battle that he didn’t want to fight. A battle that didn’t have a reasonable meaning behind. Pointless bloodshed, if he had to call it something. 

Accepting the offered bottle with a small nod of his head, the hacker was quick to crack off the cap, letting the bottle cap roll between his fingers absently as the man gave a short huff of irritable amusement. “Absolutely not…” He responded quickly, raising his brow slightly as he met Quentin’s gaze, taking a sip from his own beer before he continued. “Need a hell of a lot more of this for that, man…” After all, a single six pack sure as hell wasn’t going to distract either of them much from the bullshit that surrounded them in this moment. Split down the middle? Three beers wasn’t going to give either of them much of a buzz - unless Quentin was the biggest light weight he knew - and he wasn’t. 

Letting the silence that had grown between the pair last a few moments longer - filled only with the quiet sips of beer and eerie background noises coming from the violence around them - Angelo finally shifted, glancing again to Quentin as he finally lobbed the bottle cap towards the trashcan. “You ever think they get tired of it?” He asked quietly, not reacting much as the cap fell into the trash without a hitch. “…The killing… the bullshit? You’d think after so many years you’d just get fed up, or something….” Translation; after so many years he was fed up - and honestly, Angelo couldn’t believe that everyone out there right now still had the will to fight. To end each other’s lives based on petty rivalries and misunderstandings - the actual same shit they were fighting about for hundreds of years. “..I mean, it’s gotta get old eventually, right…” 

Quentin listened silently to Angelo’s words, not meeting his gaze at first. Part of him was surprised that the other hacker would confide in him this way. He knew Angelo was different, and this was one instance which proved Quentin’s intuition right. There was hope for this Cessation; not all of them were bat shit crazy. He wanted to tell Angelo exactly what he thought---that he knew the psychos they were involved with would never change, that the mindless blood thirst would never abate. He had dealt with his fair share of criminals in the states, but none could compare to the pure evil which raged out of control here---and he hoped they never would. “I think it’s hopeless to think they’d ever change,” he finally replied in an even tone. He weighed his words carefully before he continued. “If it’s all they’ve ever known, then I don’t believe they’d want to give it up so easily. It’s gone on too long for either to just set their guns down and trust that the other gang won’t shoot them down the moment they’ve turned their backs.” Any hope of peace had died away long ago, and it would be folly to hope for a different outcome. He shook his head. “They won’t stop until the other side is wiped out. Even after centuries of this bullshit, they haven’t learned that neither is going down. It’s just an endless cycle of idiotic murders.”

He sighed heavily, sinking a bit lower in his chair. His gaze was fixed in the direction of the monitors, but his tired eyes were glazed. Everything blurred as he thought of home. His real home. Even when he managed to escape to the safety of the states, he knew the madness here would never leave him. Not entirely. Like a ghost, it would haunt him the rest of his days. It was a disease, a plague that swept through Rome and trapped all who lived here. There was no escaping the madness, and this was what he wished to relay to Angelo. But the man before him was still a Cessation, still one of them in the end, and Quentin---ever wary of all around him---stayed those thoughts from being spoken aloud this time. “I think it’s good to keep your own mind, though...and not get sucked up in all the crazy. It’s says something for the kind of person you are.” His gaze flickered to Angelo, gauging his reaction to his genuine words.

[quentin-flores-blog]

angelo-sorrentino:

He really should have left when Ava’s time as the leader of the Cessations was over. Angelo had only ever joined the gang because of family - working as a contract killer when he was younger, and going full time as a hacker when Ava had become the leader, but he’d almost never agreed with the group’s stances. He hated his work as a contract killer, and never agreed with the blood shed this gang spread. The news with what had been going on regarding the president certainly hadn’t surprised him - but he couldn’t say he was happy about it either. Regardless, he knew of one person who might share his views on the shit storm that was spiraling around them. 

Slipping inside a familiar set up, Angelo closed the door to Quentin’s office behind him, hefting up both a six pack - compliments of the illegal stash from his good friend in Switzerland - and one of the homemade explosives the hacker knew the other hacker was responsible for. “…Returning your..present, and offering you one of my own.” He spoke, placing both beside the other man along the desk, as his eyes traveled over the back of the other’s screen for a moment, as if he could only imagine what was being shown on the other side. “…How’s it looking out there…” 

A raised eyebrow was the only response he gave his fellow-hacker for a few moments. Angelo never failed to surprise him, a mystery which Quentin had yet to solve. Rather than pry and question why the explosive had been brought back to its maker, he scrubbed at the stubble along his jaw and returned his gaze to the monitors. “About as pretty as you can imagine,” he replied, disgust filtering through his voice. Images of violence played out before him as if a Spielberg film were being shown on the screens; however, the fact that it was real life---that those explosions were caused by his own hand, technically---rendered the action joyless. Nothing was impressive about the brutality out there.

Quentin glanced away from the images again and found his attention drawn to the welcome sight of the beer which Angelo had placed there.  It was a wonder he had not torn into them the moment they had been brought into his office, parched as he was for a good drink. He reached over to take two from the case, twisting the top off of one. “Thanks,” he offered, handing the other bottle to Angelo. “Although I’m wondering if this’ll be a big-enough distraction from those nut jobs out there.” He tipped the bottle back, willing his mind to turn even a little fuzzy asap.

[quentin-flores-blog]

------- He wanted nothing more than to barricade himself in his office and drown himself in busy work and whiskey. However, the hacker had been ordered to keep security cameras up and running despite the city’s blackout. He had provided the Cessations who stepped out into the chaos with an assortment of small arms and explosives. The fact that they had all been made by Quentin’s own hand made it all the more frustrating---he did not wish to kill people out there who, ironically, would no sooner kill him than ask him for the time of day. None of this was his fight; it had never been his war. He only fought to survive.

With a huffed sigh, he sank lower into his desk chair. Green eyes followed the blips and movement on the monitors, keeping automatic track of potential threats to the Cessations who stalked the streets in search of hostages. He did not even flinch as he saw one of them shoot down a victim at point-blank range. Another weary sigh left his parted lips and he looked away as the Cess kicked the stilled body in a fit of rage. They needed serious help. The worst part was that Quentin found himself wondering whether their madness had captured him by now, whether it would always follow him for the rest of life.

He rubbed blearily at his eyes, squinting at another monitor and shooting a quick glance at the door as someone knocked quietly.

“Door’s open,” he called, propping his chin on his fist and fighting back a yawn.

[quentin-flores-blog]

laika-the-girl:

Laika nodded. “Honesty is not always my forte, but I try.” She frowned. “I find I can read faces well enough, and in any case, I can take care of myself.”

The fact that she was being straightforward was refreshing, but Quentin nevertheless proceeded with caution. “That’s something I wouldn’t doubt. I don’t think you would be here if any of that were false… Sounds like you fit in just fine around here.” Whether that was a good or a bad thing, he did not say, but at least she would not be helpless in the dangerous city.

[quentin-flores-blog]

jimtrook:

Jim gestured at the bartender. “When you’re new you need to be a bit aggressive with friendship.”

“Didn’t realize we were that far yet, but alright…” Quentin glanced over at the man seated beside him at the bar. Slightly wary of his enthusiasm, he decided to play along for a time. “You got a name at least?”

[quentin-flores-blog]

laika-the-girl:

“I am sorry.” Laika said. “I cannot offer to pay for the repairs.” Laika hadn’t scoped out anyone fully in the city yet, so she hadn’t started making much money. “I could have done a lot worse to your face.”

He shook his head, unwilling to even consider making her pay for an easily replaceable phone. “I appreciate the honesty,” Quentin frowned momentarily at her last statement. “I’d be careful who I say that to, though. Most people end up taking it to heart, and that’s when the real drama happens.”

[quentin-flores-blog]

dottore-bellardi:

Bella stands there, facing the taller man with tired annoyance written all over their face. For someone who had made a career of emergency and clinical care, Giancarlo Bellardi had a patience to match their shot height. Crossing their arms, the doctor merely considers their options but zeroes on what was first. “I want you,” They say again, repeating themselves slower this time. “To remove every weapon you have on your body, if you are carrying any and put them in any of those lockers.” They point at the wall taken by lockers by the clinic’s entrance. “Of course, that is.” A pause. “If you want me to check that shoulder, there will be no weapons in my ambulatory.” Bella’s voice is stern and serious, the bright blue eyes icy-looking from behind the glasses on their nose - they know having short stature and looking perpetually sleep-deprived didn’t really made them look like anything but frail but everyone was wrong. Bella was a lot of things, fragile was not one of them. 

One eyebrow arched and his lips parted in vague surprise. The doctor may as well have ordered Quentin to strip down or hack off his own arm, so vital were his weapons. Granted, he could still hold his own in a physical altercation, but gazing down at the smaller man before him, Quentin chided himself for being so paranoid. This appointment was only a checkup—not that it had been his initial decision. The worsening bruise which wrapped around his shoulder was an obvious indicator that the recent dislocation had not been properly tended to. Last week’s secret Skype call with his concerned wife in the States ended with Mary demanding her husband get his shoulder cared for by a medical professional. Even the SWAT officer-turned-hacker could not deny that it was too serious to ignore, so there he found himself, fighting not to back out now and take his weapons with him. He silently withdrew the handful he carried on his person before placing them one by one in an empty locker. “Happy?” he spread his arms, brow furrowed as he faced the doctor empty-handed.

[quentin-flores-blog]

danique-pieters:

Danique’s eyes widened slightly for only a moment. She had never expected him to willingly cooperate with her, much less give her the information she asked for. “Thank you.” No threats, no empty promises, no arrests: it was refreshing. If she did not know better, she would think him noble. Hell, she would even offer him a position working for the police. She had backups of most the files that can be deleted. She needed to know who knew what and who was in her system. “I don’t suppose that there is a security measure that you could recommend?” It was risky as he might know the backdoor into the system should she take his advise, but someone already was in.

He understood the risk of working so openly with a member of the police force. Some would say it was a death wish, but Quentin felt more comfortable working with them than with the gang. He was reminded of his past, of his honest life working on a SWAT team. Even as a hacker, he now had more leeway, more incentive to work with the officer seated before him. If they found out info on the gang through him, he knew he could prove himself innocent. No one could bury their past, even if the Cess had tried to bury his. “I’d suggest letting me install a private security system on your device—one that I created myself. Anyone who tries to gain unauthorized access will be immediately identified and the police will be alerted to their location. If they try to hide their tracks, you or I will be able pinpoint them on our end within seconds. No need to grant me access to any of your files, you won’t have any second thoughts about your safety. It’s up to you.”

[quentin-flores-blog]

angelo-sorrentino:

“Well it wouldn’t be suicide if it was done right.” Though they both knew the chances of doing anything of the sort without being caught was slim to fucking none. “…Keeping tabs on Shitlord Supreme, making sure he doesn’t have plans to fuck us over, prevent another Ricardo incident… Any of those could be considered the ‘real job’, I guess.” 

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Quentin replied dryly, not even glancing at a clock. “Have to go for a break.” He raised his eyebrows in Angelo’s direction, “I personally don’t think said shitlord will make any moves in the next twenty minutes.”

[quentin-flores-blog]

jimtrook:

“Can I get you a beer instead?”

"That’s something even sober me can’t say ‘no’ to."

[quentin-flores-blog]

everett---blackwood:

“Get out of my way,” Everett repeated, raising a brow and nodding toward the door the man was in front of, “You’re literally in everyone’s way.” 

Quentin glanced over her shoulder at the empty walkway, one eyebrow slightly quirked. “Newsflash. You’re not ‘everyone.’”

[quentin-flores-blog]

danieludinov:

“I need to get past. Can you move?”

“You’re not going to pull a muscle saying ‘please,’ man,” Quentin grumbled, nonetheless shifting aside to give the other man more space.

[quentin-flores-blog]

"...I'm not too concerned about that. I can help you, sure---just give me five minutes and you'll have a name and location." The hacker was well aware that it was too late to play a game of ignorance. She knew who he was, or at least what he did, and he was not about to waste both their time. Quentin also refrained from stating the many ways he could remain off the police radar, with or without this particular officer's help. Better for her to believe she had the upper hand throughout the process, just in case he needed to make himself scarce at any moment’s notice.

Originally posted by jessica-bones-winchester

“I want you to tell me who erased my files. I know you know. I could make sure that you are removed as a suspect for your cooperation.”

[quentin-flores-blog]

With a nod of thanks, Quentin’s brow creased in genuine confusion at the woman’s polite words. “Guess it could have been worse.” Although the phone’s screen was cracked, he knew it was a simple fix. The information stored within the phone was more important. “You could have done this to my face,” he joked casually, indicating the device in his hand.

Laika bent down and picked up the phone, handing it back to the man. “We share the blame, I’m sure.” 

[quentin-flores-blog]

"Right. Well, whatever you meant, I'm going to have to pass on both of those."

Originally posted by frozen-delight

“No, sorry, I should have been more clear. A blowjob is a drink.”

[quentin-flores-blog]

"I don't remember ever saying I couldn't. I'm just not suicidal." Quentin scribbled in his notes, not looking up as he asked, "What’s the real job here, man...?"

Originally posted by subcas

“Relax, it was a joke… Figure if you actually knew how to get past the Presidential firewalls, and security we would have done it by now.” 

[quentin-flores-blog]

“Good thing I’m not a nun, but I’d google first before repeating things like that. Even to an American, it sounds pretty suggestive.”

“You’ve never heard of that before?”

“Just something I heard an American tourist saying.”