It isn't easy, being one of John Marcone's bodyguards. Hendricks is privately amazed that he's survived as long on this job as he has, given the absolutely crazy shit he's witnessed since the day Marcone gave Harry Dresden a ride home. Sometimes he thinks almost longingly of the days when he only had to worry about hits from the occasional idiot who felt that Marcone needed to be out of the picture. Mostly he doesn't – a job is a job, and his job is clear.
Even if Spike was killed brutally by a werewolf.
Even if Sullivan annoys him.
Even if Gard gives him the creeps.
Even if the job itself is getting more and more dangerous.
But Hendricks doesn't even consider the possibility of retiring, or even renegotiating his contract. He likes where he is, and his job is rarely boring these days. It's where he belongs. And so he remains, even with Marcone's other bodyguards steadily growing more… inhuman.
Fenrir Sullivan, an ever-smiling blond bear of a man.
Gard, who claims to come from the Monoc Foundation; very amusing, that.
He wonders if perhaps one of the old gods will appear on Marcone's payroll the next time he turns around. Maybe on that day he'll no longer be needed.
No. For all that Marcone has been preparing himself against what the supernatural world may throw at him, he has still kept Hendricks close at hand. He is still needed, because the mundane world will also make attempts on his employer's life. And Hendricks is there to make sure those attempts fail.
No, this isn't an attempt to garner Cujo Hendricks more fans. Really, it's not.
Standard disclaimers apply. blah blah blah, only one of these characters belongs to me, everyone else belongs to Jim, Finn Sullivan is mine and mine alone, etc etc etc.
EDIT 01-27-07: This fanfic and all characters herein, including Finn, are part of the book series' continuity. If you're looking for TV-verse, please look elsewhere. Thank you.