Hidden Assets
Summary: The Dreadnoks are known far and wide for being brutish, violent and stupid. Well, two out of three in the case of one particular outlaw biker.
A/N: Another story from the Christmas giveaway; Lovelykitta provided the opening and closing lines for this story, and asked for something featuring the Dreadnoks. She wanted something silly, but it turned into more of a character piece instead. Thanks to Amykay73 for the beta.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Seriously, do you think if I owned the rights to anything related to this I'd have to resort to fanfic?
"For the last time ... you don't color those pink!" Buzzer snatched the highlighter from Torch's hand, tossed it across the room and knocked a pinkish stack of hundred dollar bills to the floor. "You're defacing the currency! Are you bloomin' stupid or what?"
"What?" Torch growled. "I didn't do nothin' to the faces. I only colored the hair."
"More like gave ol' Ben some hair," Ripper added hopefully. "He's a bit bare on top, he is."
"I meant ... uh, cor!" Buzzer wanted to slap the idiots, but he held himself back. Torch and Ripper were his mates from way back, not because he cared a whit for them, but because they were reliably dumb. That meant they were easy to manipulate – and never realized they were being used, an essential requirement to Buzzer's continued breathing. Over the years, those traits had allowed him to become the de facto second in command of the Dreadnoks.
A rather significant drawback of the arrangement was the fact he had to deal with their stupidity on a daily basis.
"These are supposed to be for Zarana's birthday," Ripper continued in a confused tone, as if his statement explained everything.
"Right," Torch said, "that's why we were making them pink. For her. They match her hair now. They're more, uh, more, uh, you know fun and stuff for a birthday ..."
"Digestive," Ripper whispered.
"That's the word!"
"It's festive you moron," Buzzer muttered to himself, forcing the venom out of his voice when he continued. "I know they're for her ruddy birthday."
Zarana! God, how he hated that woman. He'd been with Zartan and the Dreadnoks forever, establishing his reputation over the years, and then his pink-haired freak of a little sister showed up out of nowhere, and suddenly she was Zartan's right-hand ma ... woman!
The Dreadnoks, taking orders from a foul-tempered, foul-mouthed chit!
Oh, how he'd loved watching her having her arse kicked back on Cobra Island. The obnoxious harpy had picked a fight with that lady Joe – not even the one who knew how to fight – and ended up getting stomped right good. Not that he'd shown his pleasure; Zartan was bloody sensitive where his family was concerned, and Zandar, well, his little brother had a way of being there, unseen but listening. No, he'd pretended to be cheering her on, all the while he'd secretly delighted in the fight.
To his dismay, it ended before Zarana got thoroughly smashed, but afterwards she'd been an even more unbearable battle-ax. Monkeywrench had tried to cheer her up after she came out of surgery to have her teeth put back in her mouth, telling her that he'd seen the lady Joe wearing a band-aid on her face, and Zarana had used her own IV pole to break his jaw!
Buzzer scratched himself as he thought about that, slightly disturbed for some reason, but he didn't dwell on it.
No, she'd been on a right tear ever since then, and Road Pig got the idea of throwing her a surprise birthday party to cheer her up. Dreadnoks throwing a birthday party for a stupid slag! And Zartan thought it was brilliant! The idea was enough to make him sick – except he'd turned the deal to his advantage.
On the way back from Cobra Island, they'd run through Mexico, knocking over banks, which, frankly, had been a daft idea given the current exchange rates. But they had lucked out pinching an armored car on the Texas border. While the others were busy grabbing the sacks of loot, he'd quietly slipped a few parcels of paper away. Let the biddy have the cash, and he'd be happy with what he got.
But giving her all the money wasn't enough! He and the other Dreadnoks were stuck getting their lair ready for a birthday party! It was enough to turn his stomach, watching Thrasher and Monkeywrench scrape some of the more historic stains off the floors. Zartan and Zandar were out forcing a baker to make them a gigantic chocolate-covered donut cake, and he and the other Dreadnoks were in charge of wrapping her bloody presents.
Although, he had to admit the pink highlighter did give the bills a bit of a nice, bloody look.
"She'll like them," Torch continued, his bravado kicking in as he noticed the rest of the Dreadnoks staring at him.
Ah, now a fight. That would be more sportin' than wrapping money for the troll-headed slug.
"It's pink. She's a girl, ain't she?" Ripper called out, rubbing his fist in anticipation of the upcoming brawl. Like the other Dreadnoks, he didn't care about sides, just that someone would soon throw the first punch.
"Who knows?"
Everyone turned slowly to stare at Thrasher, the potential fight momentarily forgotten. The obnoxious – even by Dreadnoks' lack-of-standards – punk didn't back down. "Well, who knows, right? That whole family is a bunch of disguise artists. Do you doubt Zartan could pass as a chick?"
Buzzer stared at the fool for a moment, but he didn't say anything; he'd seen the questioning looks on the faces of the other bikers. They were actually considering the idea. In a few hours, they might even reach a decision.
Well, well, now. This might be something he could use – if he played his cards right. The Dreadnoks didn't give a damn about society's views on anything, but they did care about someone making fools of them. If he could make them believe Zarana was really a guy, he could turn them against her, er, him. Monkeywrench in particular would be easy to sway; he'd gladly believe his jaw was broken by a guy dressed like a gal rather than by a gal.
Except – even one of the other Dreadnoks would eventually make the connection that "he" hadn't been able to take out the lady Joe. Eh, he'd deal with that if it ever came up. They wouldn't expect much from a guy who dressed like a girl, after all.
Of course, they hadn't been with him on that one particular ride. Buzzer shifted himself unconsciously as he recalled that group of singers he'd run into outside of Alice Springs. "Felicia" had given his nads a good kickin', just 'cause he called one of "her" friends old and ugly. You'd think a guy would appreciate the fact he made for an ugly woman, but not with those … singers.
No, they didn't know about that incident and he could bring them around to his way of thinking. Zartan wouldn't have any choice if the Dreadnoks didn't trust her, uh, him. He'd have to send Zarana off. Let her run those get-rich schemes she liked so much, and keep her away from the Dreadnoks. Yeah, he could even convince Zartan that would be a better deal for her, er, him.
Yes, this was something he needed to pursue ...
"Yeah, but wouldn' that mean Road Pig, is, uh, you know, it mean he was, uh," Torch started, looking around nervously to make sure the massive loon wasn't around. When he spoke again, it was in an urgent whisper. "They sleep together, and, uh, well, even if he didn' notice Zarana was a guy, Donald woulda."
Damn!
Dreadnoks didn't scare easily, but anyone who waved a cinderblock on a length of metal pipe like other people swung a flyswatter was someone you didn't anger, especially when the guy was certifiable. None of them were going to risk even thinking that Road Pig was light in the biker boots, let alone acting on it.
Road Pig was the biggest obstacle to Buzzer's desire to get rid of Zarana. Both of his personalities were sappily in love with the pink-haired shrew, and he'd do anything for her. Right now, the nutter was out stealing a load of those mushy teddy bears Zarana loved so much. Buzzer tilted his head as he wondered what she did with them after she got done running them through the shredder.
Giving his head a shake, he frowned angrily. Zartan knew Road Pig was completely devoted to his sister, and it meant his position in the Dreadnoks was unquestionable. Buzzer didn't believe Zarana actually cared for either Road Pig or Donald, but she had the brains to keep her walking insurance policy out of any potentially lethal situations.
Maybe he should try poisoning Donald's chocolate donuts one day. Would Zartan believe you could get botulism that way?
Probably not. Oh, well, so much for that idea. Back to the ruddy matter at hand.
Buzzer picked up some of the colored bills and whistled to get everyone's attention. "Don't mess up the money. She can't spend them if you mark them up. Think about that for a minute."
All the Dreadnoks stared at him for a long time, their faces gradually registering shock as the consequences finally sank into their brains.
"And what will Road Pig do if she can't spend it?" he added wickedly, taking satisfaction in the terrified expressions before him. Misery loved company, and he was in the mood to spread it around.
"He would most likely ..."
"Just rob another armored car ..."
Buzzer snapped around at the unexpected voices, snarling at the appearance of Xamot and Tomax. The Dreadnoks with more advanced survival instincts started looking for the Crimson Guards; there was no way those two would sneak into the Dreadnok's lair in the Everglades without backup.
"And get her some more money," they added together, and Buzzer forced himself not to shudder.
He hated those two, almost as much as he did Zarana. Cobra bleedin' Commander acted like they were something special, just 'cause they stole money for Cobra using corporate fronts. Like that took any talent!
"If you're looking for Zartan, he ain't here," Buzzer spat at them.
"We know," they said together.
Buzzer gritted his teeth; he would never admit it, but those two freaked him out – the way they finished each other's sentences and talked at the same time. It weren't natural!
"What do you want, then? We're busy."
"Planning a surprise party?" they sneered together, each of them picking up a deformed animal balloon and popping it.
"What of it?" Torch demanded, his surly mood covering the embarrassment all the Dreadnoks felt.
"Oh, we were just in the neighborhood," one of them said; he never could keep them straight.
"And we decided to stop in to visit."
"And you expect us to believe that?" Buzzer said with a short laugh.
"Too true. In fact, we've decided to undertake some ethnography."
Buzzer stopped short.
"To observe the gemeinschaft of your group firsthand."
His eyes darted from one twin to the other, his palms sweating.
"Ah, but now that you know, have we introduced a Hawthorne effect?"
They didn't know; there was no frickin' way they could know.
"What's all that?" Ripper asked cautiously. The Twins represented Cobra, and Zartan liked Cobra's pay. Zartan wouldn't like it if they did something to jeopardize that money, and none of the Dreadnoks wanted to be the one to answer to their boss if that happened.
The twin with the scar turned to look at Ripper, adjusting his tie in the process, and his brother mimicked his motions exactly. "Oh, we recently read an interesting academic paper."
"Well, honestly, it took a rather immature view on capitalism."
"Frankly, it read like the ranting of a boy who hadn't addressed his daddy issues."
"It was the dissertation of one Richard Blinken-Smythe," they said, both of them turning to smile at Buzzer.
He rushed across the room, his heart pounding in his chest as he pulled them out of the room. "The rest of you lot get this stuff ready for Zarana's party. I'll deal with these two."
"A rather sad story, that of Professor Blinken-Smythe," the scarred twin started as Buzzer closed the door.
"He went to Australia to study biker gangs and was never heard from again."
"His colleagues at Cambridge believe his anticipatory socialization was lacking."
"And that he ran afoul of the bikers he wished to study."
"Although, we think it's fairer to say the bikers ran afoul of you, Dr. Blinken-Smythe," they said, both of them walking to a nearby table, pulling out matching handkerchiefs and dusting the surface before hopping up on it.
"Bugger off, you bleedin' fops," Buzzer said in a low voice that wouldn't carry into the next room.
"Though, we must say, you have mastered the argot of the biker culture."
"What are you two going on about?" he demanded in the angriest tone he could pull off. Listening carefully, he heard the roar of "candy mint" and the sounds of the resulting fight from the other side of the door. The rest of the Dreadnoks were too distracted now to think about what the Twins had said, much to his relief.
"Come now, Professor," one said.
"What do your colleagues think of 'snitches' or 'spies'?" the other continued.
"Especially one who was a 'toff'?" they said. In perfect synchronization, each crossed his left leg over his right, resting his hands on top.
"Do you really want them to find out ..."
"That you are in fact ..."
"That particular Dick?" they asked with oily smiles.
Buzzer clenched his fists, ready to beat the pulp out of both of the plonkers. He stopped though when their smiles deepened, and both flipped backwards over the table in an acrobatic move that made him reconsider their fighting abilities. They weren't the type to get dirty, preferring to use their Crimson Guards for that, but they weren't pushovers. And they probably had some of their red-suited gunmen all around.
If nothing else, they had contingency plans. Somewhere, they had his secret written down, and it would get out if they didn't come back.
"That money's for Zarana. Zartan knows it, too. You ain't getting a cut," he said in defiance.
"I think if you examine the manifests ..."
"You'll find that – in fact – the money ..."
"Belongs to us," they said.
Oh, bloody hell! What were the odds that they'd pinched something from Extensive Enterprises? But the twins wouldn't waste their time for something like simple extortion for a cut of that haul, would they?
"You got insurance. The armored truck car company will pay you," he said.
"For the cash, yes."
"But we all know that wasn't the most important item in the truck."
"We want the bearer bonds back, Buzzer," they said in a deadly quiet tone.
He swallowed before he could stop the action. The ruddy flops had to know how unnatural their speech patterns were and did it on purpose. "What bonds?"
Both sighed simultaneously. "Now is not the time for games."
"The bonds were not in the remains of the truck," said the scarred one.
"Zarana would have recognized them for what they were."
"As would have Zartan. Possibly even Zandar."
They came over the table easily with another flip Buzzer wouldn't have believed if he hadn't seen it; how could anyone do that in a freakin' suit?
"The other Dreadnoks would have no clue as to their value. But you, Dr. Blinken-Smythe, as the only son of a high-ranking official in the Bank of England, know exactly what a bearer bond is."
"You were there."
"The bonds are gone."
"We know you have them," they said as they walked towards him.
"Are you trying to blackmail me?" he challenged, stalling for time as he considered his options.
"We want you to work for us, don't we, Tomax?" said the one with the scar.
"Quite true, Xamot."
Buzzer blinked slowly. "Huh?"
Tomax approached on his left, leaning in close. "You chafe under Zartan's charismatic authority."
Xamot leaned in from the right. "You believe your superior intellect is taken for granted."
"However, family is important to Zartan, more so than even power or money."
"Zarana is, for all intents and purposes, his clear second-in-command."
Buzzer tried to turn as they walked behind him. Xamot, he thought, was now on his left.
"You have no hope of progressing further in the Dreadnok chain of command."
"Unless you marry Zarana."
The twins paused in front of him. "An option we strongly suggest you do not pursue if you value your health."
"You have to be daft," Buzzer said slowly, his brow wrinkled in thought. Him? Working for them? But ... but they had a point. His future with the Dreadnoks was taking orders from a nasty slip of a girl.
"We can give you that which you desire," the twins said together as they sat back down on the tabletop.
"Respect."
"Authority."
"Power."
"Your own personal grape soda fountain."
"All the chocolate donuts you could eat."
Buzzer glowered at them, sure the last two offers had been made sarcastically. "What, me work at Extensive ..."
"Of course not," the twins chorused together, their shoulders lifting in choreographed laughter.
"A man of your unique abilities..."
"And temperament ..."
"Requires a more flexible work environment..."
"Consider yourself an independent contractor …"
"Who would never have to plan a party for someone you detest."
"You would report directly to us, and only to us."
"If the need arises, you would even have your own ..."
"Staff," they said together. "Of considerably more intelligence than your current associates."
Buzzer rubbed his jaw as he stared at them. He'd once naively believed that outlaw bikers were victims of society, forced into their position by the uncaring machinations of the bourgeoisie. But he had learned the truth – they did it for the thrill. The true state of mankind was that power belonged to those who would take it and could hold it. All of society's rules and mores were there to try to inhibit that natural state. Religion, laws, regulations, ethics – all of it tried to pervert man's natural inclinations.
The Crimson Twins represented everything he hated about society – capitalism, industry, everything done legally, but still robbing others blind, and all the while society considered their positions respectable.
But they were offering him more than he'd ever get from Zartan, and he always put his own priorities first.
"And if I say 'no'?" he asked cautiously. "You gonna rat me out?"
"Of course not," they said together.
"Information is power."
"Why waste power on petty revenge?"
"It's not profitable," they said, giving Buzzer a taunting look.
"However," Xamot said, taking out his handkerchief and passing it to Tomax, who took it and sneezed.
"Thank you, brother," he said, calmly holding it over and giving it back to Xamot.
"Don't mention it, brother."
Buzzer took a step back, his hackles rising at the improbability of the scene. There was no way he knew his brother was going to sneeze. It had to be a bleedin' act; they planned it out before they got here.
"As Xamot was saying, you will give us our bonds back …"
"Or the fact that Dr. Blinken-Smythe is still alive will become common knowledge."
Both twins leaned forward. "And there are plenty of people who will pay for that information."
Buzzer started to dare them, but they both cocked their heads and watched him carefully, further unnerving him.
Let them tell! He wasn't a nancy-boy in a university office anymore. He could take care of himself against anyone who'd want to settle old scores. All he had to tell the other Dreadnoks was the twins were trying to get a share of the loot, and they wouldn't take anything they said seriously.
But the loot was the issue, wasn't it?
Zartan knew they pinched the truck for Zarana. He'd probably think the bonds were supposed to be his sister's. And Road Pig, well, there was no doubt that both Road Pig and Donald would pound him to a bloody pulp for not giving them to his neon-topped lovey-dovey.
And if Zartan started wondering how many other times he'd skimmed a little off the top of robberies, well, the boss wasn't one to listen to how much diamond-embedded chainsaw blades cost, not that Buzzer ever bothered to buy them. No, Zartan might decide he had to repay the money – as alligator feed.
"All right," he said, swearing as he walked into what was once the shack's kitchen. He lifted out the burner from the rusted out stove and pulled out two bundles. Turning around, he jumped back when he found the twins right behind him. How they hell? Even the other Dreadnoks didn't know all the boards that squeaked.
"Here you go," he growled, throwing a parcel to each brother.
"Now, now," Tomax said as he started to flip through the papers in his possession.
"Come work for us, and you'll be more than compensated for the value of these bonds," said Xamot, mirroring his brother's motions.
"Right," Buzzer snarled, but he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He hated the matching twits, but they worked on a bigger scale than the Dreadnoks. Skimming off one of their operations would get him a bigger haul than years under Zartan. And when you got right down to it, they were just businessmen. If he could fool Zartan all these years, these two would be pushovers.
"Right," he said again, this time more softly.
Each of the twins finished scanning their papers, put the parcel in their inner jacket pocket and crossed their arms over their chests. "We want all the bonds, Buzzer. Don't make us ask again."
He let out a startled grunt. There was no way! They hadn't seen what bonds the other had. He'd watched them the whole time – they never even looked at one another. How could they know he kept the most valuable ones out?
"That's all I got," he spat out, turning to storm out of the room, but the brothers broke out into identical gymnastic displays, each one ending up blocking an exit out of the room.
"Here," he said, retrieving the held-back bundle of documents from under a floor board and throwing it at the one in front of him. When he stepped aside, Buzzer headed to the door at a fast clip. Ripper, Torch and the others were bleedin' idiots, but these two! They were freaks! At the door, he paused long enough to spit over his shoulder.
"I'd rather work with the Dreadnoks than you!"
The End
A/N II: Buzzer really was a radical Cambridge sociology professor, according to his file card. Why they went to the trouble to create that background and never used it, I don't know, but it seemed a shame to let it go to waste. After writing this, I found out there was a Dreadnoks origin published, but the summaries I read made it sound like an incomprehensible jumble, so I didn't use any information from that.
A/N III: Zarana's fight with Lady Jaye occurred in issue #77; the story presented the fight as more of a draw than Buzzer recalls. Although, the Dreadnoks did admire the way Zarana kept pounding Jaye's boot soles with her face… And, yes, I know this probably fits the carton-verse better than the comics.