Where Do You Think I Learned How to Drive, the DMV? / big hero 6

 

Metadata

Fandom: Big Hero 6, Disney
Sites: AO3, FF.net

Summary

When the group gets in a tight pinch, Gogo calls on some old friends.

 

They were in a little bit of trouble.

They were surrounded on all sides by hordes of psychopathic black market electronic dealers armed with switchblades, flame throwers, and all other sorts of nasty weapons that were most certainly not Age Appropriate. Oh, and all of their suit functions were forcibly shut down by a controlled EMP blast directed by said psychopathic black market electronic dealers.

Okay, maybe they were in a lot of trouble.

Hiro Hamada was a genius, but sometimes, he forgot that he was just 14 years old. He was a pubescent boy who had been born and raised in a technologically advanced metropolis, who had never experienced a single blackout due to the sophisticated backup mechanisms in the underbelly of the city, who had never thought of implementing resistant circuitry to shield against hostile electromagnetic forces.

And now, without Hiro Hamada's suits, the gang was just an average handful of college students whose brilliant minds were about to be crushed to tiny pieces.

"Guys," Hiro mumbled. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"None of us expected a Grade 5 EMP, Hiro," said Honey Lemon, sweetly but sadly. "It's not your fault."

"Man, this is weird," said Fred. "I never thought we'd actually die."

Wasabi sighed. "Tadashi, do you happen to have a plan?"

Tadashi had a very empty, sorrowful look in his eyes—something that spoke of racing cogs and gears beset with too many obstacles to form something coherent. He was clearly pushing himself for an invention, to no avail.

The group fell into silence, none knowing what to say.

Then Gogo Tomago stepped forward, the edges of her silhouette flaring to life beneath the streetlights.

"Looks like we have no choice," she murmured.

"Gogo, stay back—" Tadashi began, but was cut off by the loud BANG of Gogo flinging her helmet against the ground. Confusion flickered across the faces of their opponents as Gogo drew herself upward, eyes hard.

"Leave now," Gogo said clearly, "and you can keep your lives."

A pause.

Then the dealers burst into raucous laughter.

"Did you hear that?" sang their leader, practically crying. "Keep our lives! Pipsqueak thinks she can take us on!"

"What an adorable little midget," mocked another dealer. "Can we keep her?"

But Gogo didn't back down. Gogo didn't even look fazed. She only smiled quietly—something symmetrical that brimmed with confidence, as if she had already known their answer.

"Good," she said softly. "I've been wanting to break some fingers."

And she tore off her jacket, throwing something into the air. For the very first time, Hiro caught a glimpse of her bare arms—or, more specifically, the twining pattern of ink that snaked around her bicep. It was most certainly a tattoo, and most certainly not one acquired at the local beauty parlor.

Then the air exploded with blinding light from whatever Gogo had tossed and everyone threw themselves to the ground, yelling.

"She lit a signal!"

"The pipsqueak's a Wolf!"

"W-we need to get out, now!"

The painful light finally extinguished. Hiro peeked upward with one eye, but the entire area was so heavily covered with smoke that he could barely see his own hands. He crouched downward and listened intently, grateful for the helmet that blocked the smoke from his nostrils.

There was eerie silence for a moment—then the deafening shriek of tires squealing against the ground tore into Hiro's eardrums, followed by a loud, clear voice.

"Black Iris speaking to the crib! Five, two, and two behind the corners!"

It took Hiro a moment to realize that the voice was Gogo's.

Gogo, who had a gang tattoo on her arm.

Gogo, who carried around a signaling flashbang.

Gogo, who was an incredible driver, extremely agile, particularly on—

"—wheels," whispered Tadashi's voice by Hiro's ear. "Gogo is...

But before either of them could finish their thoughts, the air erupted in gunfire, followed by screams of agony. Tadashi quickly pulled Hiro behind the nearest pile of rubble.

"Long time no see, Black Iris," said an unfamiliar voice, loud and jaunty. "How goes school?"

"I'm learning a lot, actually," said Gogo curtly.

A patch of gunfire. An answering scream. "Yeah, I can see that. Cornered by a bunch of these prissies, Iris? You coulda wiped 'em with a hand and foot tied behind your back... in the old days."

"I don't use dismembering wires anymore, Rider," Gogo said.

"Leaves a mess, I'll give ya that." More gunfire. "Didn't think you'd call the calvary, though... Miss Civilian."

Something whirs, something crunches. "I have people to take care of."

"Digging them out?"

"More or less. Will you cover me?"

" 'Course. No Wolf leaves another behind."

"Cute, Rider, and totally false."

"Fine. There's a pretty cute lady with you. Grab me her number."

"You haven't changed a bit, I see."

"What? Excuse me, woman, I actually asked this time."

"Hm. That's true. So, you'll cover me?"

"Number. Tonight, by 7 PM. Or your right hand's gonna go."

"Be nice to her, Flynn Rider, or you'll be missing more than just your right hand."

And then, as if out of nowhere, Gogo lunged over the rubble and squatted next to a speechless Tadashi and Hiro.

"Stay here. Right here. I'm grabbing a ride to get us out."

And she vanished. Well, not actually, but she lunged between obstacles like a nimble panther until the smoke enveloped her form.

Hiro looked at Tadashi.

Tadashi looked at Hiro.

"What," said Hiro.

That evening, six people were crowded in a discrete corner of the Lucky Cat after hours. One was seated on a chair. The other five were surrounding said figure with varying expressions and body postures, but each gaze was fixed on an intricate tattoo depicting a howling wolf.

"You know, I'm getting a flashback to when we first learned that Fred was rich," said Hiro.

"I think this is a little more shocking," said Wasabi faintly. "And by a little more shocking, I mean a lot more shocking."

"Yeah, I didn't have a tattoo," said Fred wonderingly.

Tadashi sighed. "Guys, let's let her explain herself. I mean, if you want to, Gogo."

"Want to?" screeched Wasabi. "She's a Wolf! We could have angry guys knocking on our doorstep any day now! They'll—they'll break our fingers or cut off our ears!"

"Khan fazed that out five years ago," Gogo said drily. "The only thing that can be amputated are fingers. Three of each hand max."

Wasabi threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, yeah, that's a relief."

"Please, Gogo, tell us what's going on," Honey Lemon begged. "We're really thankful that you saved us, but—we're really confused."

Gogo sighed roughly, shuffling a hand through her hair. "What is there to explain? I'm a Wolf. I was born in the Family, raised as one of them. Was their mechanic before I could go out on the field, ended up being pretty talented at it."

She paused. They waited. She didn't say more.

"That's it?" said Hiro, aghast.

"How did you get into San Fransokyo?" Tadashi asked gently. "I don't remember seeing you at the showcase."

Gogo looked at him and smirked. It wasn't a happy smirk, but a smirk with a tinge of guilt.

"Wolves don't play by the rules," she said.

The entire group seemed to shrink back at this.

"See what I mean?" Wasabi peeped, terrified.

"They won't hurt you." Gogo folded her arms, suddenly looking exhausted. "I parted on good terms. Didn't burn any bridges. It's why they helped us."

The group stared at her for a moment, clearly attempting to vocalize the slew of questions that had just bombarded them—but that was when Gogo's phone chose to ring. Gogo glanced at the screen and sighed, drawing herself to her feet.

"Sorry. Gotta take this one."

She slipped out the door, letting it shut softly behind her.

A pause.

Fred leapt onto the chair that Gogo had just vacated, hunched over its rim with a wide-eyed look of madness.

"Here's some food for thought," he said in a low voice that was probably supposed to sound sinister, but just sounded nasally. "How high was Gogo on the ladder?"

"What do you mean?" Honey asked.

"Don't you know how the mafia works? If you're just another hitman, you can't leave without get hunted down yourself. No, no. To leave on good terms—you need influence." Fred's mouth spread into a manic grin. "Didn't you see how they obeyed her orders without question? Even if they did a little bargaining here and there, in the end, they respected her call."

"So, what exactly are you saying?" Tadashi said.

"I'm saying," said Fred, "that we are friends with a miniature mafia boss."

Silence.

"That's ridiculous, Fred," Hiro laughed. "A mafia boss? Even a small-time one—Gogo?!"

Even Wasabi, who expected the worst out of every possible situation, shook his head. "Yeah, that's just not happening, dude," he said. "Maybe she had good connections with the higher ups, but there's no way that she was a mafia boss herself."

"You think?" said Fred, disappointed.

"It's a fun thought, Freddie," Honey said sweetly, "but not very likely."

"Aww," said Fred. "Alright."

In the back alley of the Lucky Cat, a figure paced back and forth in the shadows, speaking rapidly into a phone.

"No. You don't need to take further action."

Silence.

"Yes. I'm certain that they're not fake friends planted by a rival clan. You think I misplace my brain like you misplace your gun?"

Silence.

"Don't Godmother me. I'm retired."

Silence.

"I told you that I wanted to be a civvy for real. I'm sticking to it."

Silence.

"Well, if they think that's favoritism, they can stick a cork in it. I'm going back to normal life. Bye. Oh, but—thanks for sending the boys today. Got us out of a pinch."

Silence.

"Statues are expensive and I'm certainly not erecting one in honor of you. Good night."

The phone shut with a definitive click.

"Brothers," the figure muttered, and stormed back into the Lucky Cat, throwing her black jacket over her shoulders.


Author’s Note

was i the only one who thought of this upon first seeing that car driving scene.